|Short answer: No. But you can make these funny hats|
and gowns part of your permanent wardrobe.
Photo via Wikimedia Commons.
I think scientific journalism could immediately be improved by assuming that you need at least a PhD for the job.Not surprisingly, while acknowledging the soundness of Bor's original post, many science writers took issue with this assertion. Bor did take a step back and say that he was happy to admit he'd gone too far making the PhD point. As much as I'd like to see expanded job opportunities for science PhDs, I agree that this method ain't the way to do it.
In fact, as someone who has a PhD in science but has been a writer longer than I've been a scientist, I'd argue that it might be better not to have specific training in science if you're reaching for an audience of nonscientists, depending on what your goal as a writer is. If your goal is to tell a great science story that keeps the nonscientist reading and thinking, "wow" or "I get it," then scientific training might be an anti-requisite. If your target is critique and analysis of science, then scientific training could be quite useful as long as you don't let your deep background blind you to what your readers might not understand as well as you.
Arguments like these always seem specific to the sciences. Economics looks like a jargony wasteland to me as someone little familiar with its terminology and landscape, but I can't recall seeing requirements that journalists covering the economy must have economics degrees, much less PhDs in the field. What is required to become a respected journalist extends beyond esoteric knowledge. A respected journalist builds trust with an audience and earns that respect with a track record of overall accuracy, decent writing, and a dedication to openness. Good journalists in any subject area build their hours of understanding the way they build what we used to call the Rolodex of contacts: with hard work and asking the right questions.
And it's asking the right questions that really matters. My experience has been that the closer I am to a subject scientifically speaking--i.e., when it's relevant to my field of research--the worse I am at asking the right questions about it, filling in gaps for a nonexpert, and writing about it comprehensibly and comprehensively. In fact, my worst work for the nonexpert audience has always involved my areas of scientific research. A deep understanding of a topic acquired by way of contributing to the research field has done me no favors when it comes to writing about that subject for a nonscientific audience. We are talking major suckage here.
My best work has emerged when I have a relatively limited grasp of the science--probably at the level of anyone who has completed a college physics class. I know enough to start the questions, I know enough to read a research paper and get the gist, but I don't know so much that I leave out critical questions in interviews, questions with answers that might help both a reader's understanding and my own. Possibly even as critical for writing a good piece (Slate's editorial stance notwithstanding), I end up getting great expository quotes from experts. That's not easy to do, and if your approach is one of already knowing everything and avoiding asking the "obvious" questions, you're not going to get those good quotes from good interview subjects. And that means you'll miss one of the greatest joys of journalistic writing.
Rather than being dangerous, a little knowledge can be a great tool as long as a writer uses it appropriately and has no compunction about revealing ignorance in a subject area. That's another place where having extensive training in the sciences could be an obstacle. What scientist--or formerly practicing scientist--wants to get into a conversation with a colleague or peer and show general scientific ignorance? I don't know about other people who have combined writing for a nonexpert audience and scientific training, but for me, I have to watch myself carefully in interviews. I'll sometimes find myself interpreting back to interviewees or explaining before they finish explaining, in part, I think, from reflexive need to let them know, peer to peer, that I get it. I have to stop myself, let them finish, ask the "ignorant" questions. Ego's gotta stay out of it or Ego will interfere.
Where ego and training and depth of understanding can be an asset rather than a liability is if your wheelhouse is criticism, commentary, or general opinionating. Deep expertise--whether acquired through graduate training in science or putting in 10,000 hours of journalistic effort in a topical niche--confers the necessary grounding and cachet a writer needs to build audience trust in and respect for those opinions and critiques. Without getting too starry eyed or blindly invested about it, I'd trust a critique of microbiological resistance studies from Maryn McKenna just as much as I would trust such a critique from any peer reviewer. If Deborah Blum's got something to say about the chemistry of a news story, as background or the story's focus, she gets my attention just as much as any trained chemist would--probably more so, thanks to her lyrical writing, a double treat for a science writer/reader. If Carl Zimmer pens articles about human lakes, viruses, or science-related tattoos, I'll tend to trust in what he writes because he's focused relentlessly, accurately, and gracefully on these topics for a long time. None of these writers has a graduate degree in science or even majored in science. They have instead dedicated their hours to the combined pursuit of science and writing, with wonderful results.
But in the case of critique, I'd be just as willing to rely on insights from a scientist trained in the specific field involved. Like the writers I've named above, deep scientific training qualifies scientists to critique within their subject areas. If they give up the lab bench for writing, that expertise will inevitably broaden around a core interest, and the combination of science training and hours of writing experience can take them to the level of a Blum, McKenna, Zimmer, or David Dobbs when it comes to critique and analysis in combination with reporting. But if those scientist-to-writer types are anything like me, they should stay far, far away from their dissertation topic as a writing focus unless critique is the goal.
No one's concocted a magic formula for the best combination of science training and writing when it comes to science writing for the nonexpert audience. What I do know from my own experience as a writer, which happens to bookend earning a doctorate in biology, is that having a PhD can be a hindrance as much as a help and certainly cannot be considered the sine qua non qualification for writing about science. The bottom line is that regardless of how you succeed as a science writer in building trust with your audience, your success will depend in large part on three factors: your dedication to accuracy and its pursuit, your willingness to check Ego at the door, and your focus on crafting work that reaches and resonates. No PhD required.
ETA: Back in February, journalist and now-PIO Matt Shipman also addressed what makes a good science writer. As he notes on Twitter, we agree.