Illusion of understanding

Do you ever have an 'aha' moment when someone describes to you very well how something works? Sometimes that happens to me. “I get it now!” Then I go back and try to learn/do it for myself and realize I still don't get it. I only thought I did. I still have to go back and do more work for myself to grasp the concept.

Is it okay for a science writer to impart an 'illusion of understanding' to the generalist reader? We discussed this during the science writing workshop sessions I attended last week. The illusion of understanding is going to happen either way, and it's part of the learning process.

A scientist is an expert in her field. You can throw out technical terms like mRNA and Hamiltonian paths because she has already built up the background to understand those terms.

The general public is on the opposite end. In order to understand bigger concepts, they must accept that some things exist (like mRNA and Hamiltonian paths) without knowing the mechanisms by which they work. They must accept blackboxes, or boxes that receive an input, produce an output, and cover up the mechanism behind it. A computer is an example of a blackbox. Understanding how a computer works is unnecessary if you know that typing on a keyboard (your input) will eventually result in that email you send (your output).

These blackboxes exist within language, as well, and sometimes pop up as metaphors. A metaphor is another device to give the reader an 'illusion of understanding'. “When I rang the doorbell I felt butterflies in my stomach.” Of course this statement is inaccurate, but it gives you the general gist of how I felt as I anticipated someone opening the door.

The same is true for describing scientific processes. Someone during the workshop talked about people getting on and off a train to explain the transfer of heat. It may not be a completely accurate analogy, but suddenly the concept of heat becomes more tangible.

Or take superconductors, which in theory can conduct an electric current in a loop forever. It was much easier for me to understand why a superconductor does not violate the second law of thermodynamics when I thought about pushing a block across ice with zero friction. It gave me a better grasp of the power of lossless transmission in superconductors.

Even scientists reach a level where they do not understand the concepts anymore and instead must rely on blackboxes. And it's okay for a science writer reaching a general audience to employ blackboxes and sail over technical descriptions when necessary. It's the science writer's job to impart an 'illusion of understanding' to the reader to inspire her to learn more.

Science writing in beautiful Santa Fe

My science writing mentor at UCR has raved about the Santa Fe Science Writing Workshop, and now I'm in Santa Fe to experience it for myself! I'll be blogging about my time here and reflecting about how to write well about science. I think the best part about this workshop will be getting to meet people from diverse backgrounds, not all of whom have taken a straight path towards traditional careers in science. I'm also looking forward to the group critiques of writing assignments. It will be great to gain perspective from other writers and exchange ideas.

Day 1:

My plane landed in Albuquerque after lots of turbulence from strong winds. On the ride from Albuquerque to Santa Fe the car was swaying from all the wind. Scary!

Arrived at the hotel, and in the evening met all the participants at dinner. After eating we sat around the room in a circle and a daunting icebreaker was presented to us: we would each introduce ourselves and repeat the names of everyone who had spoken before us. There were maybe 40 or 50 of us? You can imagine how the last person in the circle felt. I'm not one to memorize names, which is part of the appeal of being a physics major. No complicated biology names to memorize - if you forget an equation, just look it up in the book. But we were all able to get through everyone's names.

I was surprised that so many people were torn between choosing to pursue science or the humanities. I'm used to hearing engineers talk about how they hate writing, and English majors will talk about how they don't get along with science. Of course this is not always the case, but there were so many people in the room who had a penchant for both fields.

During introductions someone gave an analogy about the uncertainty of choosing a career path: "It's like you want the toast to land butter-side up. Except the toast is attached butter-side up to the back of a cat that's falling, and the cat is hovering in mid-air." This description is spot on.