The science of government

Abstract

John Marburger III is President Bush's discomforted chief science adviser. A physicist by training, he was once director of the prestigious Brookhaven National Laboratory on Long Island. Marburger was appointed director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy (OSTP) in the executive office of the President in 2001. After a distinguished career as a scientist-administrator, Marburger soon became a flashpoint for political dissent. OSTP, established in 1976, is supposed to advise the President on the effects of science and technology on domestic and international affairs. The good idea is that sound policy depends on sound science. But Marburger has been criticised for contributing to the unprecedented manipulation, suppression, and misrepresentation of science by the Bush administration. In particular, the Bush regime's denialist position on climate change, still so evident in Bali last week (where was Marburger's voice at Bali?) and his silence over stem-cell research has condemned America's spokesman for science to being seen as a puppet of an anti-science Republican government. In the UK, John Beddington, a distinguished population biologist, takes up his role as chief scientist to Gordon Brown's government in 2008. He takes over at a difficult moment for science policy in Britain. His predecessor, David King, spent his last few months in office settling a few old and sore scores. He took on the media, notably the BBC and the Daily Mail, for campaigning successfully against genetically modified foods. And in The Lancet, he called one respected journalist “cynical” for raising questions about a government report on obesity. King should be remembered less for his short temper with critics, and more for taking the government on over climate change—and winning. The UK public owes King a large debt of thanks for his boldness and honesty. But King's tetchiness with journalists is unlikely to build trust with the public. What will create confidence in science is a chief scientist who is prepared to listen to his critics respectfully; argue passionately and cogently; understand that democracies have the right to evaluate and debate scientific advice, not simply accept it as unchallengeable wisdom; and construct a broad network of advisers to give him as wide a base of evidence as possible to draw on. Any science adviser to government has to deal with the controversies of the day, from nanotechnology to genetic screening to science in schools. But every chief scientist should also have his or her own personal strategy. Being merely reactive to government undervalues the part science has to play in shaping our political debates. To take one pressing example: all governments have signed up to eight Millennium Development Goals, three of which are explicitly health related—on child survival, maternal mortality, and HIV, malaria, and tuberculosis. A science adviser to government should be leading the scientific response to this important political commitment. Both Marburger and King have failed to coordinate science in the service of human development. We hope Beddington will do better for the interests of the most marginalised and vulnerable peoples in Africa and Asia. But a larger question looms. In democracies, where should government find expertise? Who is an expert? The citizen or the scientist? Those trained in science may believe that science has the potential to create a more just and equitable world. The knowledge that scientists generate is certainly the most reliable information we have to guide our choices about risk and life. Yet as Harry Collins and Robert Evans write in their compelling new book, Rethinking Expertise, the reality of modern science is that expertise “takes place in narrow crevasses”. In other words, the notion of the generic expert—even the generic chief scientist—simply is not valid today. The intensive specialisation required to do good science demands intense specialists at the elbows of politicians. Government remains a long way from that ideal. So what is a government science adviser for? Marburger has said that one answer is to defend the science budget. George Bush has pointed to the importance of science in advancing America's economic competitiveness. And King emphasised the £4 billion loss to Britain's economy from the public's anxiety about genetic modification. But surely science is about more than money? Science should also be about a vision for society. To that end, the European Science Foundation's admirable strategy for medical research in Europe, published last week, emphasises the health and welfare benefits of investing in science. This European vision offers the kind of positive programme for science that Marburger and Beddington should pay heed to urgently.