Researchers found their voices during Covid. Now they must do the same for the climate.

At the time it felt like a story like no other: a story which dominated the media for months on end. But now heat domes, wild fires and wayward ocean currents are sharpening our focus on the climate crisis. So it is worth asking what lessons research communicators can learn today from the media’s response to the Covid pandemic.

2020 was the year when everything changed, and how we tell science stories was no exception. As a communications professional specialising in science, the sands began to shift for me in mid January that year.

“So, there’s this new virus in China” I said to a mathematician colleague, who is an expert in modelling epidemics. “Some journalists might want you to explain it to them. Would you be up for that?”.

Clearly, that was some understatement. Within weeks, 'experts' were back in the game (having been sidelined since 2016 when a certain politician famously declared that the public had “had enough” of them). Follow the science became the mantra. By March 2020, if you were an expert in anything from virology, immunity or epidemic modelling right through to crowd psychology and parenting, there was a slot on telly for you.

At first, the clamour was simply for anyone who could shed light on the ominous-sounding “Covid-19”. But as Spring turned to Summer, the desire for real insight intensified. And while scientists were still rapidly modelling different pandemic scenarios, they faced the same question. Should their new research be publicised now, while it’s most relevant? Or should it be publicised after it’s been peer-reviewed in several months’ time, when its relevance may have faded?

In the rush, some mistakes were made. The media had reported on scientific findings which hadn’t been peer-reviewed. Some had been unreliable, and had sown panic – such as that relating to the risk posed by the virus to children.  Some scientists were tempted out of their usual area of expertise, with patchy results. It was all understandable: the public and media were thirsty for new insights into the pandemic, and scientists were trying to help. But public trust in the science wobbled a little.

The Science Media Centre are experts in such matters, and they published a brilliant blog on this particular conundrum. They concluded that the best practice remained to wait until a paper has been peer-reviewed. There will be some exceptions of course, but generally, the traditional cautious approach is best.

When Covid-mania began to evaporate, a fertile silt remained: hundreds and hundreds of scientists had, by necessity, become seasoned media explainers. Science journalists and press officers had newly rekindled relationships. And science correspondents had bolstered prestige in their news rooms.

By 2021, other science stories were seeing the light of day. COP26 was looming into view. Climate stories gained column inches again. I was working at LSE’s Grantham Research Institute at the time, promoting its experts during the conference. We achieved a likely all-time daily high of over 1000 pieces of coverage and expanded the number of experts providing media analysis about five fold, relative to the previous COP.  At that time, there was serious demand for expert analysis.

Climate stories have danced in and out of the spotlight since then. Extreme weather events trigger peaks in coverage and excellent researchers are always ready to offer illumination. Now, COP28 is on the horizon.

And today, climate communicators face a new challenge. Many of the same sceptics who sowed fear around the European Union now have their sights set on the climate crisis. The “Net Zero Scrutiny Group” boasts supporters including Jacob Rees-Mogg, Iain Duncan Smith and Craig Macinkey. And they retain their influence. Rishi Sunak has fatefully this month watered down the UK’s Net Zero commitments.

On electric cars, anxiety-inducing articles pepper the UK media in a seemingly coordinated way. The mantra “the infrastructure is just not in place” is repeated and engrained in the general public’s consciousness. (As an EV driver, I respectfully disagree.)

Indeed, climate-doubting campaigns abound. The public in Uxbridge were not ready for London’s Ultra Low Emission Zone to reach them, and cynic-whipped fears of the Labour mayor’s planned extension cost the Party the parliamentary seat in July. This looks likely to set a dangerous precedent for politicians eager to win elections, unless people start to believe that the green transition will boost jobs and economies.

Amid such climate concerns, scientists and their communications teams face real challenges in getting traction for their climate research findings and the logical mitigating policy changes which flow from them.

So, what can climate communicators learn from Covid? I suggest this: that science has found its voice. Research institutes must prepare their climate experts for broadcast interviews. Scientists should ‘stick to their guns’ and not to be tempted outside of their own area of expertise. Press offices and media teams – amid distractions from elsewhere - should keep their eyes on readying their climate experts for public engagement, and they should prioritise promoting their research.  

We have new tools in our kit too. Social media, deftly used, opens routes to new audiences. TikTok and Instagram harbour energetic explainers of science. These people are going to be key to the future of science communication.  Social media management is a new and distinct skill. Organisations need to grow and protect their social teams. They need to give them a seat at the top table and they need to listen to their advice.

As we keep telling the important stories of science and climate, we must do it with flair and with truthfulness. If we lose trust, we lose everything. And with the climate crisis heating up, it will only become more critical that the public and governments trust what scientists tell them.