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Hi Scholar, 

Many a time, we – as authors of The Scholarly Letter – have found it difficult to articulate exactly the kind of writing we do here. While we write about scholarship, scientific research, and knowledge production, we feel our writing doesn’t quite fit neatly within the category of science communication.

Perhaps we ourselves harbour a slight reluctance to place our writing within that box. If we’re being honest, this is because the kind of science communication that dominates our contemporary media landscape gives us – for lack of a better word – the ‘ick’. 

In saying that current forms of science communication make us uncomfortable, we are not rejecting the broader aims of the endeavour. We are not against knowledge produced within academia reaching beyond it. We believe that scientific research – along with an understanding of its processes and practices – should be made available to non-scientific publics. And more than simply having access to science, the public should be engaged with it. To achieve this, what better vehicle is there than science communication?

However, we do feel – and perhaps you might too – that the way contemporary science communication is practised, and particularly the kind of content that gets communicated, does less to engage non-scientific publics than to pacify them. It treats them as passive audiences who can do little more than consume science.

It is to this end that, in this essay, we want to spend a few thousand words rethinking the kinds of engagement science communication might enable. In doing so, perhaps we are also trying – somewhat selfishly – to carve out space for ourselves within this arena.

— Written by The Critic and The Tatler

When we think of science communication today, we think of attention-grabbing, clickbait headlines about the “one factor” that will supposedly make us healthier than we ever imagined. We think of three-second hooks on TikTok and Instagram warning us about an asteroid that might hit Earth. We think of yet another “breakthrough” pathway promising immortality. It’s always this one new finding – this exciting result – that scientists have discovered, which is going to change everything for humanity.

By and large, science communication is dominated by what we might call “pop scicomm” – a mode that focuses on popularising scientific findings by emphasising novelty, urgency, and emotional appeal.

Science and media have long been entangled with each other. But in today’s algorithm-driven media landscape – where most people consume information alongside a quick hit of dopamine – the relationship between the two has taken on a very particular character.

As we know, the algorithmic consumption of online content is embedded within the attention economy, where attention is a scarce and highly contested resource. As science communication increasingly operates according to media logics, it prioritises novelty, immediacy, and emotional appeal. Sensationalised headlines, dramatic narratives of “breakthroughs,” and exaggerated claims about the transformative potential of research become mechanisms for capturing attention in highly competitive information environments. In turn, this attention is converted into various forms of value: advertising revenue, institutional visibility, research funding, and professional advancement.

Given the fast-paced attention economy we inhabit – where audiences make split-second decisions about whether to engage with content – it is no surprise that science communication has evolved to become more sensational, hype-driven, and entertainment-oriented. The amplification of exaggerated claims, the reliance on sensationalism, and the use of promotional, hyperbolic, and dramatic language to embellish scientific findings have become defining features of science communication in this media economy.

But here we stop to ask: what is this kind of science communication actually achieving?

If science communication is meant to make science accessible and meaningful to non-scientific publics, does this kind of “pop sci” really achieve that?

More importantly, should the role of science communication simply be to popularise findings through exaggerated, hyperbolic language? 

Yes, it is important to make people care about science – to spark excitement, build trust, and demonstrate its importance. But is this the only kind of engagement we want publics to have with science?

To us, the idea that the public’s role is merely to applaud scientists and say “well done” feels, quite frankly, dismissive of their potential.