It’s been a couple of months since I’ve sat
down to write a research blog – not so much due to lack of adventures as to
lack of time – but recently I’ve been coming across discussions in the world of
conservation that have given me some extra inspiration to share my own
experiences. One of these is a
blog written by Dr. Toby Gardner, a biologist at Cambridge University’s
Department of Zoology, in which he argues that we can’t simply hope that achieving
better dissemination of our research will suddenly make human society act in
ways that are not detrimental towards the environment. Rather, he writes, “even the most integrated approach to
studying the linked problems and solutions facing the management of
environmental resources (or any other problem) in a given region will likely
have very little impact if the people who are intended to benefit from, or be
influenced by, the work are not intimately involved in the research process
itself. Evidence on its own is not enough.”
With
my own research, I’ve been observing this trend that pushes science to have
greater impact at several different levels in Bolivia. In recent months, I’ve been invited to participate in and
facilitate such discussions at various government ministries and scientific
institutions. One of these is
Bolivia’s National Service of Protected Areas (SERNAP for its acronyms in
Spanish) current effort to develop a ‘research strategy’ for the entire
protected area system, with the aim of determining gaps in knowledge for
improving the management of the entire system. During two days of workshops in La Paz in August, park staff
and representatives of scientific and government institutions met to develop a
set of priority research questions for these areas, based on management needs and missing information.
During Day 2 of discussing the research strategy, scientists and representatives of academic institutions were invited to join the discussions. |
In
tandem to this research strategy, Bolivia’s Vice-ministry of the Environment is also in the midst of developing lines of research in biodiversity and natural resources of national priority. After giving a brief talk on my
research to the Department of Biodiversity, a lengthy and somewhat
heated debate emerged on the role of local knowledge and participation in biodiversity
research. One person brought up a
situation in which they had to define research priorities in collaboration with
indigenous stakeholders in the Bolivian Altiplano, but as the researchers were
on a restricted schedule and the local people didn’t show up to the meeting on
time, they went ahead and defined topics they found scientifically interesting
- animal behavior, genetics, etc.
Afterwards, when it was time to present the information to the stakeholders,
the local people disagreed with the priority topics that the researchers had
defined, asking, "How is this going to be of use to us?” Instead of the topics the scientists
had come up with, the locals were concerned about a plague of sarna that was
affecting the local vicuña population (Vicugna
vicugna), and instead wanted to redirect the research agenda towards studying the health of the
vicuñas.
Much
of these issues have to do with communication, and its definition as a dialogue towards reaching mutual understanding, as opposed to the one-directional transmission of information.
Many scientists believe that if they can only improve their powers of
persuasion, their work will achieve desired impact. But communication is so much more than that. During two workshops with the National Herbarium, the key botanical research institute in the country, I facilitated participatory
exercises along with other Bolivian researchers, designed to get the attending botanists to reflect on what it means
to communicate science to non-scientists, and to better understand the pitfalls
scientists tend to fall into when working with people from other walks of life. Among other issues, we reflected on the
importance of appreciating non-scientific worldviews and knowledge, of
understanding the local history and culture of places where fieldwork is to be
conducted, and of finding ways to incorporate local input into different stages
of the fieldwork process.
Some of
the most interesting insights came out of the final exercise, during which the
botanists had to role-play various scenarios that involved communicating
science to non-scientists. Those
stepping into the shoes of the non-scientists (community members, indigenous
leaders, etc.) found themselves sometimes aggressively challenging those whose
role it was to present the scientific information. Why should we trust you, they asked, when others
have come before and promised things and left nothing behind? Why should we care about this
information? We already know what
species of plants are on our lands and what they are good for. Why is your knowledge any better than
our own? These questions led the scientists to ask themselves what their science and research indeed had to offer these communities, where there is often a great deal of local knowledge about the types of plants and their uses.
Reflecting a bit on the issues brought up during these various events, I have some questions of my own. If communicating science is more than the dissemination of information, then what does it mean to incorporate different ways of thinking and seeing the world into other stages of the research process? What does it mean to truly step inside of the shoes of the other, and shape our work so it makes sense to her way of interpreting what she sees? And if we believe that it this is way forward for conservation science, then how do we do it?
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