IT鈥橲 NOT often that scientists and editors of major newspapers get to trade
insults. But in Britain this past week, Robert May, the Chief Scientific
Adviser, found himself described as 鈥渃ontemptibly pompous鈥� in a leading
article in one tabloid while the editor of another laid into him for his 鈥渧ulgar
contempt鈥� for her paper.
To be fair, 鈥減ompous鈥� is not the right word for May. His major crime seemed
to have been an excess of forthrightness鈥攈e had reportedly described the
content of some tabloid newspapers as 鈥渃rap鈥�.
Strangely, this heated exchange came at the launch of Britain鈥檚 Science Week.
It is a week when hundreds of museums, universities and research laboratories
from Aberdeen to Aberystwyth put on special exhibitions. Normally, it is a cosy
time when ministers and their civil servants make bland speeches and the press
says nice things about science.
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That kind of cosiness seems quite impossible at the moment. For months before
last week鈥檚 angry exchange, the British newspapers have been at war with the
scientific establishment over the environmental impact and safety of genetically
modified foods. Debate has reached the degree of savagery normally reserved for
the most emotive political issues.
On one level it is good to see science exciting some real passion as the
public tries to tackle the impact of genetic engineering. The government must
also accept that the rules have changed and that it cannot expect the public to
listen quietly. Its advisers no longer command the trust of the public.
Credibility vanished during the crisis over BSE when assurances about the safety
of eating beef turned sour. And without trust, no amount of scientific argument
is convincing.
But while a bit of passion may be welcome, the language of debate has taken a
strange turn. In several papers, the most frequently used word in any science
article seems to be 鈥淔rankenstein鈥�, whether it is Frankenstein foods,
Frankenstein crops, or this week in the The Express, 鈥淔rankenstein
bird鈥�. The F word is, of course, meant to imply that scientists are simply
creating freakish monsters out of curiosity.
That鈥檚 an insult, not just to the scientists but to the real meaning of the
Frankenstein story. When Mary Shelley completed her novel in 1817, it was not
intended as a simple attack on the hubris of scientists. Rather, it was a
terrifying tragedy of rejection: a freakish monster was cast out both by its own
creator and everyone it encountered.
杏吧原创s may indeed create some strange things but let鈥檚 not repeat Dr
Frankenstein鈥檚 error of uncaring rejection. Three-legged chicks (the
鈥淔rankenstein bird鈥�) are probably not too pretty but such research will uncover
the genes that determine how limbs develop
(see p 21) and may have enormous
consequences for dealing with genetic diseases. Why describe them as
鈥渇谤别补办蝉鈥�?
Last week, the editor of the The Express urged May to provide 鈥渇acts
rather than insults鈥�. On behalf of the much-maligned chickens, and the
discussion of science in general, let鈥檚 hope everyone including the
Express will take this advice.
Now we have the passion, let鈥檚 deal with the issues.
