Science Is Not Enough

In the summer of 2023, parts of the planet recorded heat so intense that airport runways buckled, wildfires ravaged continents, and ocean temperatures broke records not by fractions—but by degrees. Scientists, of course, were not surprised. The models had long predicted this. The data had been published. The warnings were clear. And yet…little changed.

It’s not a matter of scientific failure. Climate models, vaccine development, public health systems, and early warning technologies have all advanced with remarkable rigor. The problem lies elsewhere: in the gap between knowing and doing. Between publishing and persuading. Between peer-reviewed certainty and public indifference.

For all of our years growing up and well into the last decade trust in science and scientific institutions has been high, something most of us never really questioned.¹ Since the early response to the COVID-19 pandemic, trust in science and scientists has been declining. This rising skepticism is not just about science itself, but about how scientific findings are communicated, politicized, and used to justify policies. In April 2020, Pew Research reported that 87% of U.S. adults had “a fair amount or greater” confidence that scientists act in the public interest. By October 2023, that number had fallen to 73%. Not surprisingly, the decline in trust mirrors the increasingly partisan nature of political discourse. While left- and right-leaning respondents started at similar confidence levels in 2020, by 2023, left-leaning confidence remained near 86%, while right-leaning confidence had dropped to 61%.²

This erosion of trust in science is concerning, but it’s part of a broader pattern.

Science, small business, and the military are among the most trusted, while the federal government, political parties, Congress, organized religion, the courts, large corporations, and the media all score significantly lower—often with major partisan divides.³

So why is trust in science eroding? To answer that, we need to revisit the early days of the pandemic and look more closely at how science works.

In 2020, when COVID-19 spread rapidly across the globe, the world had few answers. Medical institutions like the CDC and WHO issued guidance based on existing playbooks: masking, distancing, and sanitizing. Scientists and pharmaceutical companies launched an unprecedented effort to develop vaccines, and within a year, safe and effective options were available at scale. It should have been a triumph of modern science. But instead of celebration, skepticism surged. Questions about vaccine safety, the duration of lockdowns, and changing guidance led to confusion, conspiracy theories, and a general erosion of public trust.

The scientific process itself played a role. Science advances by testing, questioning, and correcting. When a new finding is published, it is reviewed by other scientists (peer review). If flaws are found, more experiments are conducted, and conclusions may be revised.

In the overheated environment of the pandemic, every statement from scientists or health agencies was instantly reported and scrutinized. Partial information, evolving evidence, and frequent retractions created the impression of chaos—even when what was happening was actually science working as intended. Into this confusion stepped misinformation, bad actors, and opportunists. Distrust grew.

That distrust bled into other scientific domains—especially climate science. Climate denialists and some industries seized on the uncertainty and revision inherent in science to further their narratives. Meanwhile, political efforts have increasingly targeted the very institutions that conduct climate research. There have been well-documented attempts to reduce university research funding, close or undermine agencies like the EPA and NOAA, and silence or intimidate individual researchers. In such an environment, even well-supported science struggles to cut through the noise.

Of course, this isn’t new. In the 1540s, Copernicus developed the heliocentric model—that the Earth revolves around the Sun.⁴ At the time, this view contradicted both church doctrine and the prevailing worldview. Fearing controversy, Copernicus delayed publishing his work until just before his death. Galileo, who built telescopes and provided empirical evidence for heliocentrism, took a more public stance. He published his findings in 1632 in vernacular Italian, making them accessible to the public. A year later, he was tried for heresy by the Roman Inquisition, forced to recant, and lived the rest of his life under house arrest.⁵

Even in more recent times, scientists who speak up have faced consequences. J. Robert Oppenheimer, scientific director of the Manhattan Project, became a public advocate for international control of nuclear weapons. In the era of McCarthyism, his security clearance was revoked, and he was politically ostracized. ⁶

Rachel Carson faced similar resistance. Her 1962 book Silent Spring warned of the dangers of DDT and other pesticides.⁷ Carson held a master’s degree in zoology from Johns Hopkins University and worked for the U.S. Bureau of Fisheries for over 15 years. She was not a laboratory researcher, but she carefully reviewed toxicological research, interviewed experts, and synthesized findings into a compelling narrative. Her critics dismissed her as emotional and unqualified, yet her work was scientifically rigorous and clearly written. Silent Spring helped catalyze the modern environmental movement and led to the eventual banning of DDT and the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency.

These stories are inspiring—but rare. Most scientists today publish their findings in academic journals, where they are reviewed and debated by peers. There’s no mandate, and often no incentive, to engage the public directly. Given the fragility of research funding and the politicization of science, many are understandably cautious.

So—is science enough?

It appears not. Scientists value neutrality, objectivity, and the idea that “the data speaks for itself.” But data doesn’t speak—it must be interpreted, contextualized, and communicated.

Perhaps what we need are more scientists—or allies of science—willing to follow Rachel Carson’s example: to do careful, rigorous work and then take the extra step of translating it for the public. To build the bridge between evidence and action. To tell the story that moves people to care.

Reading

1. Krause, Nicole M, Dominique Brossard, Dietram A Scheufele, Michael A Xenos, and Keith Franke. “Trends—Americans’ Trust in Science and Scientists.” Public Opinion Quarterly 83, no. 4 (2019): 817–36. https://doi.org/10.1093/poq/nfz041.
2. Pew Research Center. Americans’ Trust in Scientists, Other Groups Declines. Washington, D.C.: Pew Research Center, February 15, 2023. https://www.pewresearch.org/science/2023/02/15/americans-trust-in-scientists-other-groups-declines/.
3. Brenan, Megan. Confidence in U.S. Institutions Still Below Historical Norms. Washington, D.C.: Gallup, July 12, 2023. https://news.gallup.com/poll/509300/confidence-institutions-below-historical-norms.aspx.
4. Copernicus, Nicolaus. On the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres. Translated by Charles Glenn Wallis. Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 1995. (Originally published 1543)
5. Galilei, Galileo. Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems. Translated by Stillman Drake. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1953. (Originally published 1632)
6. Bird, Kai, and Martin J. Sherwin. American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2005.
7. Carson, Rachel. Silent Spring. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1962.