We live in a contradictory time. Furthermore, we are dependent on science and technology for almost every aspect of our existence, from the medicine that cures illness to the communication that instantly links us to one another on opposite continents, from the power grids that light up our cities to the agricultural technologies that nourish billions. We acknowledge, at least verbally, that the transcendent issues of the 21st century – climate change, loss of biodiversity, food security, future pandemics, and even how to govern the digital age – will necessitate answers founded on scientific expertise and technological creativity.
On the other hand, however, there is a growing tension: a call for “practical” science, short-term and dealing with tangible and urgent needs, and a subsequent, unceasing wave of scepticism or even outright hostility towards the scientific process itself, its conclusions, and the institutions that represent it. To me, the two events are linked, and addressing one without considering the other is a grave strategic error. They have their roots in an inability to understand the true worth of research and a communications crisis between the scientific community and the rest of society.
Why fund the unknown? The case for investing in curiosity-driven research
Let us consider the investment in basic research – driven by the sheer disinterested curiosity to know. We’re looking at bold undertakings, like large astronomical observatories gazing backwards to the origins of the universe, high-energy physics experiments delving into the internal mechanisms of matter, or theoretical studies that examine very abstract mathematical or physical concepts, such as the nature of space-time or the existence of extra dimensions. These projects require monolithic investments in tens or hundreds of millions, sometimes billions, of dollars or euros, the best brains and the most sophisticated technologies, but their near-term “products” are articles in scholarly journals, upper-level data, and new questions rather than proprietary useful solutions or products to bring to market next quarter. This naturally causes some to ask: why spend so much money discovering dark matter or gravitational waves when we could be spending it on curing cancer, creating better batteries, or creating jobs?
An emotional justification for curiosity
Yes, indeed, the justification for basic research is not an emotional justification for curiosity for its own sake (although curiosity itself has an incalculable value for its own sake to an advanced civilisation), but on the grounds of a hardheaded and indubitable historical fact: the most revolutionary advances, those which have totally transformed the course of human civilisation and given rise to entirely new industries, have almost always followed from scientific studies which, in their day, were purely theoretical in aim with no prospective practical application.
Think of the experiments on electricity and magnetism by scientists such as Maxwell during the 19th century: pure mathematical theory that paved the way for the electrical age. Or quantum mechanics, which was developed to describe the behaviour of atoms, the foundation of all contemporary electronics, from computers to mobile phones, and of laser and medical imaging technologies. Even the World Wide Web itself, our core virtual culture, began as a requirement of CERN particle physicists to share data in a convenient way. It was not a profit-driven endeavour but a tool for core research.
The long game of discovery: why basic research matters
The key is not knowing. We cannot anticipate which string of “pure” research will provide us with the next technology revolution or the solution to a question of the future. It is like sowing a field: if you only sow what you are sure will bear fruit within a few months, you will starve later. Basic research is sowing for harvests decades, and sometimes centuries, henceforth. It requires patience, vision, and a collective act of faith in the potential of knowledge to transform lives. Deflecting enormous volumes of money away from curiosity research solely to applied research, however much the latter is required to resolve pressing problems, is equivalent to consuming the intellectual capital of the future to reap thin revenues in the short term. It is myopic and tactically damaging thought that denies the fertile land out of which the most revolutionary breakthroughs spring.
Not an ivory tower anymore
This brings us to the second but equally critical aspect of the problem: science’s interface with society. Why should increasingly broad segments of the population seemingly no longer blindly trust science when it explains unanimity on matters of global importance like global warming or vaccines’ safety? The internet has undoubtedly enabled wholesale misinformation that makes it easier to spread conspiracy theories and anti-science disinformation. But characterising the problem as a “war on misinformation” ignores internal accountability within the scientific community and how it interacts (or doesn’t interact) with the world beyond.
Science has been, or been perceived to be, in an “ivory tower” for too long. A place of expert craftsmanship and technical jargon over the heads of the uninitiated, where colleagues speak to each other, and findings come out through avenues (scholarly journals) not open to the general population. This has created distance, a sense of exclusion, and sometimes perceived condescension. When researchers do not actively and robustly try to say what they are doing, why it is worth doing, how they arrived at it, and where available knowledge’s limits and uncertainties reside, there is a vacuum created. Human nature does not appreciate a vacuum: it gets too readily filled up with other accounts, too frequently oversimplified (even when mistaken), more emotive, and at times more supportive of existing prejudice or fears.
Modern science is messy and does not always yield black-and-white answers. Advances are made in infinitesimal increments, at times followed by retractions and revisiting. Conveying this messiness, this give-and-take of thinking, that there are arguments within (about how one describes a phenomenon, not whether it is happening) is key to building trust.
More information and transparency
If science sounds like a dogmatic set of irrefutable facts handed down from above, it should be no surprise that when a new discovery is made, or a mistake is corrected, some segment of the population is made to feel cheated or led to expect that “science changes its mind” capriciously or for hidden agendas. Scientists must descend from their “tower,” be clear and clear-spoken in their speech, confront the public’s questions and fears, and acknowledge and state uncertainty when it is an integral part of the scientific process. Science communication may no longer be considered a secondary or fringe endeavour but a core duty on par with research itself.
Both domains – funding for basic research and the science-society crisis – reinforce one another in a self-reinforcing vicious circle. An unwilling public to believe in science or appreciate its long-run significance will be less inclined to strongly promote significant public funding of clean research as a wasteful exercise. If funds are limited, research focuses on short-term, utilitarian goals, further solidifying the impression that science is a technical-economic tool and not an intense human attempt to understand the world. To break this vicious circle, one should act on both sides with the same devotion.
On the other hand, policymakers and public opinion must be educated and convinced, based on sound argument and experience with the past, of the priceless nature of fundamental research as a wellspring of advancement and protection against future possibilities. Expenditure on fields now seemingly distant, like advanced quantum physics or theoretical astrophysics, is an act of foresight and not a luxury.
Rebuilding trust in science: a call for humility, dialogue, and connection
On the other hand, scientists must take it upon themselves to speak more, more openly, and more humbly. It is not a matter of exchanging results but of telling what was done, unveiling what was unknown, showing the human aspect of science, and creating a sincere exchange with society. Only by doing so can we restore the trust relationship required to make science seem not a remote and sometimes frightening presence but an integral partner in creating a better future for everyone. The future of humankind is as much in the hands of our capacity to keep pushing into the deepest unknown as in our capability to spin a bond of understanding and confidence between those who produce that knowledge and the public that is supposed to gain from it. It is an investment double-edged, in knowledge and in the bond, that we can no longer delay.
