A look at the term "community scientist"
“There is no power for change greater than a community discovering what it cares about.” — Margaret J. Wheatley
By DR. CAMERON BARROWS
There was a time not long ago, roughly the Victorian period (1700s-1800s), when those who had free time often spent that time “naturalizing,” exploring and studying nature. Charles Darwin and Alfred Russel Wallace were among those non-academic naturalists.
Those naturalists were part of a community that contributed to the growing collections in museums, generating invaluable records of what lived where, providing the first insights into the patterns of biodiversity around the world. Then times changed; in an effort to elevate their importance academic institutions declared that such pursuits were the exclusive province of their “scientists.” They insisted that the only records of any value were those collected by university trained, professional scientists. Those not part of those academic institutions became ever more separated from nature.
That was then. Today academic scientists are again increasingly embracing the value amateur naturalists provide and realizing that the data they generate can be every bit as accurate as those they would have gathered alone, sometimes perhaps even more accurate. That and the volume of data these naturalists generate far exceeds what academics could hope to collect on their own. More data means a better understanding of the real trajectories of animal and plant populations in this era of extreme environmental change.
In this modern era, initially the process of collecting data with non-professional scientists was called “citizen science,” and the participants were then dubbed “citizen scientists.” While the term “citizen” was only a way of distinguishing academically trained participants from those coming from other walks of life, due to a sensitivity to unintended meanings, “citizen” was thought to be exclusionary. Some of these naturalists might not have been born in the country or yet to have been naturalized into the region where they might want to participate in a science-based research project. To avoid any unintended feelings of exclusion and to emphasize that the of use of volunteers to do science is intended to include anyone who wants to participate, regardless of where you were born, new titles have been proposed.
One suggestion was to call the process of including non-professionals into scientific data collection as “participatory science.” I suppose that the partakers would then be called “participatory scientists.” To my ear that sounds unnecessarily cumbersome. Additionally, in my way of thinking all science is participatory, so the name doesn’t distinguish whether or not volunteers contributed.
Another, more widespread alternative is to call the process “community science” and then the participants as “community scientists.” “Community” has a built-in connotation of something positive and inclusionary. Synonyms include “public,” “civic,” and “free,” and synonyms for “free” include “allowed,” “welcome,” and “unrestricted.” “Community” also can mean a collaborative space where people of common interests and goals can work together, and in doing so have larger positive impacts.
Those are my thoughts. There was a recent published paper that addressed some of these issues. The authors proposed that the term community science was a subset of citizen science. They posited that “citizen science” has an established brand and credibility, and so only under the citizen science umbrella does community science also gain that rigorous scientific credibility. The authors contended that “citizen science” is not perceived as exclusionary, they also acknowledged that community science clearly does imply inclusivity, but that re-branding alone is not enough, that there needs to be directed outreach to bring in all interested people. Agreed.
What was confusing to me is if community science is to be a subset of citizen science, what else is under the citizen science umbrella that isn’t community science? One could imagine that a nonacademic person might want to solve a narrow question using science. Perhaps they conduct experiments to determine the optimal combination of soil nutrients to grow the sweetest, best tasting tomatoes. We might agree that by working alone, that they are not part of a community, and being a nonacademic that they are conducting citizen science, not community science. However, if they used references from other authors, “stood on other researchers’ shoulders” who tackled similar questions, or if they published their results for others to use, does that then make them part of a larger community? A more relatable question would be if someone working alone was contributing their sightings to iNaturalist. They are workings alone, but iNaturalist is very much a platform that creates a community of naturalists. It seems like the distinction between citizen and community science is fuzzy at best. The authors argued that community science should be reserved for science that is “initiated by and benefitting communities”. What was not clear was if they just defined communities as physical spaces where people live in close proximity. If we take a more expansive view of community as being inclusive associations of people with overlapping passions and interests, then communities have no physical boundaries.
I am an unabashed supporter of incorporating a “community of naturalists” into the science questions I pursue. First and foremost, I know that the data are better because of the contributions of our community scientists. A couple years ago I recorded the number of independent lizard sightings each community scientist made as we surveyed each trail. To be clear, what I recorded was what position each person was in, second, third, fourth … etc. I was always first, and I asked the citizen scientists to change their order throughout the day. Being first, it isn’t surprising that I saw more lizards, usually about 50-60% of the total count. The second person added another 20-30%; the third added another 10-15%. If there were more than 8 naturalists, last person in line rarely saw a lizard that had not been seen by someone before them in line. Essentially everyone made significant contributions and I was confident that if we had at least 8 naturalists, that essentially all lizards that were active that day were counted. A key component of our research design is that I am almost always present, part of the survey team, helping with identifications. Not only are the community science-based counts more accurate because the tallies are more comprehensive, it is far more fun. We feed off each other’s energy and appreciation for the incredibly beautiful place we live and work. Plants and animals new to us are discovered through the broad range of interests of our naturalists on almost every survey. Nowhere is it said that good science has to be conducted with a stoic, unlaughing demeanor. Go outside and enjoy nature.
Nullius in verba
Go outside, tip your hat to a chuckwalla (and a cactus), think like a mountain, and be safe