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The National Cold War Exhibition

What do James Bond, the Internet and the moon landings have in common? Their development was influenced by the cold war. This war not only dominated the political agenda from 1945 to the collapse of the Soviet Union but also influenced cultural and scientific developments; and, arguably, its effects are still felt today. So the National Cold War Exhibition at RAF Cosford should have plenty of material to work with to provide an insight into this important and often frightening period of history. But rather than tease out the complexities of the cold war the exhibition presents an oversimplified and sometimes glib account. It might be better to come clean and say that this is really an exhibition of military hardware.

The exhibition is housed in an impressive and enormous new building. From the outside it has an elegant twisted shape; inside it is designed to look like a rather upmarket aircraft hangar, with polished concrete floors, and exposed steel structure and roof. You would expect a ‘wow’ factor when walking in to such a space, but it is strangely missing. Instead, steel columns obstruct the sightlines and it isn’t until you’re someway into the building that you can actually get a good idea of what’s there. Then you see that the space is divided into three areas: an upper level with large exhibits, a lower level, also with large objects, and a walkway in between the two which contains most of the historical information.

The walkway starts near the entrance with two text panels on the origins of the cold war. It’s perhaps here that the downfall of the exhibition begins. With the exception of a quotation from Harry Truman the emphasis in these panels is on nuclear war. There is no mention of the underlying ideological differences between the USSR and the West, which really fuelled the war. Without this important scene-setting information the cold war becomes too black and white. 

Further along the walkway are eight structures designed to look like pieces of wall – concrete-grey and topped with barbed wire, homage to the Berlin Wall no doubt. Each is divided into three: two text and graphic panels labelled “West” and “East” flank a central case of small objects. Each piece of wall is on a theme – land armies, sport, freedom, arts, spies etc. and the panels discuss the theme from east and west perspectives. But it isn’t easy to do that in a few hundred words and the panels fall into the trap of trying to play one side off against the other with the result of being glib. So, the ‘freedom’ theme tells us how most countries in the West were democratic “although some, like Greece, Portugal and Spain, had dark periods” – an understatement that should raise some eyebrows. The same panel glosses over the civil rights movement in the US (although the dominant photo is of a group of smiling young black men), and McCarthy doesn’t get a mention. That’s not to say that life in the USSR was great by any stretch of the imagination, but nor was the West a bed of roses. Reducing the cold war to “West good, East bad” implies little reflection on a complex period and would seem to miss the point about two opposing ideologies.

Moving away from the walkway on the upper and lower levels visitors can see the bulk of the exhibition, a huge range of military hardware from tiny MiG fighter planes to huge US transport planes, from small missiles to a “multi purpose nuclear weapon”. Some planes are positioned at ground level, others are suspended from the ceiling in poses of derring-do – climbing steeply, banking sharply, flying upside-down. A Vulcan bomber on the upper level is so big that it’s almost impossible to get a sense of its size. Its wing and nose hang over the edge and dangle over the exhibits below. Even on the upper level you can comfortably walk underneath it and look up into the open bomb bay doors… and that’s about it. The text panels accompanying the exhibits are brief but highly technical so in order to appreciate the objects visitors already have to know something about them and/or be interested in technical specifications. The beautifully designed touchscreen information points, which are positioned throughout the exhibition, read like a technical manual: dimensions, weights, commissioning dates etc. For military enthusiasts this must be a dream, but for those who don’t have that knowledge or interest there is no way to engage with the exhibits.

Amongst these large objects there are kiosks on other aspects of the cold war such as the Cuban missile crisis and the Berlin wall. These are a mixture of text panels and audio-visual material. But as with the walkway, the presentation is black and white and skips over many complex issues. The outside of the ‘global conflicts’ kiosk mentions a range of wars that were created or escalated by the cold war, but they are treated skimpily. Inside the history of the Vietnam war is outlined, but this famous and significant war has been recounted many times, in many forms and in greater depth. Maybe this was a chance to highlight other cold war conflicts that are equally significant but less talked about?

It is difficult to understand why this is the National Cold War Exhibition. Although limited in its interpretation the exhibition clearly shows that it was a global war. And though the hardware is predominantly British, there is nothing to say whether the British technology made a special contribution. This adds to the sense that the exhibition isn’t really sure what it’s about. It wants to be an exhibition of late-twentieth century military planes for those in the know, but has decided to couch it in terms of the cold war. Unfortunately it hasn’t got to grips with that complex and nuanced period of history, so for those who aren’t aviation enthusiasts this cold war is a bit of a damp squib.

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Anatomy Acts

Leonardo drew it, the Ink Spots sang about it, and Channel 4 broadcasts it. Anatomy has fascinated a multitude of people for centuries. And why not, for it shows us how we are. Anatomy Acts, currently at Edinburgh’s City Art Centre, is an exhibition formed from medical collections held in Scotland. These contain objects that represent medical thought across the UK and the rest of Europe from the fifteenth century to the present day. However, the way the exhibits are grouped in this exhibition means that some of the depth of the collections may be missed.

The drawings and models on display are beautifully crafted, and all have been created to record the latest thinking about, or investigations of, the body. Many were used as teaching aids, and consequently there are some exhibits that may not be for the squeamish or the sensitive! Anatomy Acts divides the objects into five themes, Growing & Forming, Feeling, Looking & Listening, Mirroring & Multiplying, and Charting. To varying degrees these themes can be thought of in more than one way, which gives a nice play on ideas. However not all the themes are successful, and it leaves the nagging doubt of whether playing with words has disrupted the potential of the exhibition.

The first theme, Growing & Forming, is given the whole of the first floor of the exhibition. The first section of this explores human anatomy. Amongst the exhibits there are mid-nineteenth century watercolours of reproductive organs next to early C20th high contrast black and white images of tumour sections. These latter images are abstract, and give the notion of ‘growing and forming’ rather sinister connotations. The second section of this theme explores animal anatomy, and here the concept of ‘growing and forming’ gets a bit lost. The connections with human anatomy are not clear and it is only by reading one of the books on display that it starts to make sense. John Bell’s 1797 book “The Anatomy of the Human Body Volume 2” is opened at a page showing a line drawing of a frog. The opposite page discusses and compares the respiratory systems of various animals – obviously at the time this was how anatomy was thought about. The final part of this theme returns to human anatomy, but the idea of ‘growing and forming’ becomes even more tenuous. It doesn’t necessarily detract from the exhibits, which are fascinating on their own, but it is slightly annoying.

Upstairs on the next floor the themes of Feeling and Looking & Listening are explored. Feeling is perhaps the least successful of all the themes. The introductory text explains the double meaning: artists express feeling in their work and surgeons and anatomists feel for parts of the body (through touch) in their work. This is all very well, but the exhibits don’t reflect these ideas at all. There are a few paintings that might be ‘art’ rather than ‘scientific representations’ and there’s an operating table, but otherwise the exhibits seem to be much the same as on the previous floor only without the animals. Looking & Listening explores ways of seeing and hearing the body as well as the anatomy of the ear and eye. This theme starts with a video projection of recent images of the body taken in Scottish hospitals. These would be more interesting if there was some explanation of the different imaging techniques and if there wasn’t the feeling that this is really an exercise in waving the flag for imaging in Scottish hospitals. Perhaps the most interesting exhibit in this section is the 1950s design for an ultrasound scanner. It looks huge, with disconcerting levers and dials that make it look like something from a sci-fi film. It’s a comment on how medical imaging techniques have changed in a relatively short space of time.

The final floor houses the themes Mirroring & Multiplying and Charting. The first of these is supposed to explore techniques such as stereoscopic images, but although there is one such image the rest of the content looks familiar. In fact, there are lots of obstetrics-related images here that surely should have belonged in the first theme. Finally, Charting is about plotting and mapping the human body…which is presumably what the images in the rest of the exhibition do.

The exhibits in Anatomy Acts could be represented in many ways. They are careful crafted objects of art. They also represent changing medical thought over many centuries; for example, William Harvey’s 1628 groundbreaking treatise on the heart and circulation is on display here. By showing changing attitudes to medicine and the practice of anatomy, the objects also reflect the wider social and cultural attitudes of their time. This depth of meaning falls victim to the themes chosen for the exhibition. The themes privilege the aesthetic interpretation over all the others and so many of the stories the objects are able to tell are hidden. That’s not to say they are impossible to find, but the onus is on the inquisitive and perhaps already knowledgeable visitor.

The emphasis on the aesthetic has two other knock-on effects. The exhibition contains some specially commissioned art work and poetry, but unfortunately some of this sits uneasily with the other exhibits as it doesn’t have the depth of the anatomical works. The exhibition also contains a handful of documents and objects from non-Western traditions. But as cultural attitudes to medicine and anatomy (Western or otherwise) are not properly explored, these objects feel tokenistic. 

Anatomy Acts was created to promote Scottish medical collections, and there’s no doubt there is a lot to shout about. These exhibits are not only beautiful, they can tell us a lot about medicine over many centuries and about the society of the time. However, by choosing themes that don’t quite work much of this depth has been lost.

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A Very Public Engagement

Ten years from now science in museums could be unrecognisable. The Natural History Museum, Science Museum and Manchester Museum amongst others are in the initial stages of planning for major changes that will start in the next few years. Include the 2007 opening of Wellcome Collection – the Wellcome Trust’s new public venue – and it’s an exciting time for science exhibitions. But what are we going to see in these new displays? Before museums can begin to answer that question they have to unpack the buzz-words and initiatives that come with communicating science. This is far from simple, and poses some tricky questions for everyone involved in science exhibitions.

Perhaps uniquely amongst museum subjects, communicating ideas and information about science has been strongly advocated by successive governments and other organisations for many years. Through this diverse and wide-ranging community, in which museums play an active role, has come a series of movements and initiatives. For a long time the most prominent of these was ‘public understanding of science’. This advocated putting lots of exciting science facts ‘out there’ in an effort to get people to learn to love science. Now discredited as grossly top-down, it has been superceded by ‘public engagement with science’ (PES) and its attendant mot-du-jour ‘dialogue’. Speak to curators about science and you can bet the conversation will be framed by PES.

However, this participatory model is not without its own critics and difficulties. Not least amongst these is the question, ‘what does it actually mean?’ What does ‘public engagement with science’ want to do? “I think that’s a big question because ‘public engagement’ is banded around as a term and actually everyone is meaning something quite different,” says Caroline Hurren, head of the Public Engagement Development Group at the Wellcome Trust. Paul Bowers of the Natural History Museum is more blunt: “Public, engagement, and science are three words that no-one questions.” As head of public offer for Darwin Centre phase 2 (DC2) Bowers is someone who thinks about this more than most. But surely such lack of questioning makes life difficult for museums thinking about redevelopment and talking about PES?

The obvious meanings of ‘public engagement with science’ and ‘dialogue’ are that museum visitors should be able to comment on and influence policy decisions. However, this can be problematic as Curren explains: “Influencing policy is very difficult and few [organisations] do it… The public can end up feeling quite used if they think they’re feeding into something but actually it’s just an exercise in dialogue.” The Science Museum has first hand experience of the difficulty in making this kind of dialogue ‘real’. Heather Mayfield, deputy director of the museum, says that it experimented with visitor comments on subjects displayed in Antenna exhibitions but had difficulty tying exhibitions into existing consultations. The varied nature of the comments also meant that they weren’t useful for academic organisations such as Sussex University’s Mass Observation Unit. Now the museum favours giving visitors information about consultations that they can follow up at home.

But if canvassing opinion is a red herring for PES in museums, that still leaves the question ‘what is it?’ Well, ask around and two themes stand out: the process of science and what might broadly be called ‘science in the round’ or ‘cultural context’. Needless to say, neither of these is particularly easy.

Hurren thinks of ‘process of science’ as “how science works things out, how science thinks about things. Why does the media always portray us as changing our minds about things?” She argues that science is often portrayed in terms of its output – results – rather than how that output comes to be, and this is very often the case in museums. DC2, partly funded by Wellcome Trust, aims “to show science as a human activity.” The building will combine laboratories with public spaces and visitors will be able to peer into the labs. But how will this show the human side of science? “The lab’s empty because they’ve all gone for coffee” replies Bowers, implying a ‘science is just a job’ approach.

There is certainly value in showing science is a job like any other, with long coffee breaks and few bearded geeks, but it doesn’t solve Hurren’s problem. The reason science is “always changing its mind” is that it builds to an official position over a period of many years. That debate mostly takes place in the wider scientific community, not in a single lab. Even experimentation and analysis are slow processes at the best of times, so visitors hoping to see heated discussions of the latest data might be disappointed. Meantime philosophers and sociologists have been arguing for centuries about what science is and how it works. They are still going strong. To say there is a wide range of opinions would be an understatement, but no one would honestly say there is a process. ‘Live science’ in the form of viewing a lab may not be material for a one-off visit if your goal is to show ‘the process of science’, whatever that may be.

That’s not to say that presenting science as a ‘human activity’ is undesirable. One thing that many academics would agree on is that the ‘output’ Hurren speaks of is created through interactions of science and society – that science is socially and culturally situated – which is another way of thinking about science as a human activity. Ken Arnold, Wellcome Trust’s head of public programmes, explains: “Science doesn’t stop with the science, you have to draw on the history, and it doesn’t stop with the history, you have to contemplate interfaces with science and culture.” In other words, the interaction of science and society is complex and ill defined. Presenting what Arnold calls “science in the round” can’t be done in a neat, clean fashion. This poses some interesting questions for museum displays.

Nick Merriman, director of The Manchester Museum, describes a recent project which explored gender in the museum’s natural history galleries. It showed that the great majority of the exhibits were male, and that C19th taxidermists (and presumably more recent designers) had displayed these most prominently. Merriman concludes, “Science displays aren’t truthful any more than humanities displays are truthful. What we’re displaying is a cultural construct with very particular historical contingencies.” To address this Merriman is keen on incorporating multiple interpretations of exhibits into displays, but this is also problematic. Merriman agrees: “There’s a thousand ways of looking at things. Even if we work with a community there’s the issue of who selects the community representatives, how representative are they … who do you ask? You still have to edit. … We have to put some things in and exclude others.” In other words, the role of the museum as editor, and the perception of museums as authoritative institutions are central to this cultural construct In order to highlight and explore science and society – to give an alternative to the presentation of ‘fact’ – museums will need to be transparent about what they have put on display, how it has been interpreted and why.

Of course, there is no single way to present science in museums. But given that PES is framing the majority of proposals, it is important to think about what is feasible. How then can museums approach the complex task of working out which route to take and then how to do it? Two features stand out. First is that no one can do this in isolation and yet there seems to be very little discussion of these issues between museums, or between museums and the academic science studies / museum studies communities. Science studies academics in particular have been discussing questions of representation of science for years and could make valuable contributions. Wellcome Trust launched a PES publication “Engaging Science: Thoughts, deeds, analysis and action” in July and sponsored a multi-disciplinary science communication conference last April, but this type of discussion needs to be extended. In the meantime the museums community could be proactive.

The second feature is one of experimentation. Arnold, Merriman, Mayfield and Bowers all emphasise the need and desire to try out new ideas. But such experimentation requires risk taking and money, a combination that doesn’t always go hand-in-hand. Even when innovative projects are funded, additional money for tweaking and embedding the ideas isn’t necessarily forthcoming, a situation acknowledged by Hurren. Finding a way round this hurdle would be extremely useful.

There is hard work ahead. Figuring out what contribution museums can realistically make to science communication is an important starting point. Presenting a more rounded view of science is a great aim, but will challenge conventional means of display and interpretation; and to meet those challenges museums themselves need to engage with others in the field. These are exciting times for science museums.

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Bury Museum and Archive

The newly opened Bury Museum and Archive is taking a refreshingly open-ended approach to displaying history. It has done away with didacticism, and has decided to let visitors make their own connections between the objects on display. It doesn’t always work, but it’s great to see someone try.

The museum and archive are situated on the lower ground floor of Bury’s existing art gallery, and the new development brings all three collections under the same roof for the first time. From the entrance hall of the Victorian building you can now go up to the art gallery or through an etched glass door, down into the museum. The staircase into the museum leaves behind the relative grandeur of the entrance: it is simple and undecorated but still distinctly Victorian … until you come to the bottom. Here the space opens out to two minimalist gallery spaces – limestone floors, white walls, very well lit. 

There are currently three displays in the museum, all of which present objects that relate to Bury, its local history and how that history fits into wider national and international events. The displays are object rich, but what is refreshing is that they are not fighting for space with reams of labels and text panels. In fact, with the exception of a handful of labels, the text is confined to the title of the display or a few contemporary quotes. This is more than enough to indicate the subject, whilst leaving visitors to create their own connections between objects and to follow their own thoughts about the subject matter. This open-endedness is a real treat.

The first gallery contains a single display comprising nine cases set into a wall. The only text gives the title: Changing communities, places, times. The central case holds a series of large objects including a wooden stand and an over-the-top gilt pitcher. To either side are four smaller cases with a variety of objects. One of the smaller cases contains Victoriana, another is full of toys, and a third contains archaeological finds such as flints and pottery. It’s not difficult to guess that these are objects connected with Bury: excavated, donated, manufactured or typical of Bury life at some time. Taken as a whole the cases provide a history of Bury through things left behind, and rather than being told what to think about them, visitors are able to create their own train of thought about the implications. 

Not all the cases are easy to follow, though. The connection between the terracotta bust of Queen Victoria and a 1930s doll takes some guessing (something to do with the importance of younger generations, which is a little tenuous). However, there are well-produced booklets located by the seats in the centre of the gallery for those who require further information. These not only list the objects on display but also give some of their history, and locate them within the context of other events. To complement the cases, on the opposite wall a screen shows clips of film from Bury’s history. There are also two nicely produced touchscreen interactives that give comprehensive information about the museum and its renovation. 

The second gallery space houses two displays. The first continues the theme of changing communities and times but focuses on hygiene and sanitation. Again, there is no ‘text’ in the usual sense, just three quotations that sum up the theme of the display. Only a few of the objects are labelled, and these provide enough information for visitors to then make sense of what else in the case. For example, two wooden water pipes are labelled, and placed near a six-pack of mineral water and modern water pipes (all unlabelled): the connection is obvious but the train of questions and thoughts the juxtaposition sets off is left to the visitor to contemplate. The display does not force the issue, or assume it knows the ‘important’ questions, or pretend it can say everything on a label or panel. Visitors are left to explore meaning and implications for themselves. 

Again, not everything works perfectly. The positioning of a modern toothbrush on a Victorian washstand is out of keeping with the rest of the display. And what is a pair of obstetric forceps doing with the shaving implements? Nevertheless it is great to see a display that doesn’t want to dictate to its visitors.

The final display is a moving account of the landing at Gallipoli in 1915. It is a single case with objects set against a background of images of local men who lost their lives. The objects are not out of the ordinary for a WWI exhibition – a Vickers gun, some barbed wire, a collection of medals. What makes them poignant is the single panel of text that contains only contemporary accounts. Reading these creates a series of images that places the objects in context in a way that dry curatorial text cannot. 

The museum is encouraging visitors to explore Bury’s past and present in more ways than interrogating the displays. The archive is situated next to the second gallery and its study area is clearly visible through a glass wall. The door is open, and you can walk in and make an enquiry. It will be interesting to see if this ‘transparency’ encourages previous non-users to go in.

By not feeling that it needs to tell visitors what to think about its exhibitions, and therefore recognising the multitude of thoughts and meanings associated with the subjects, Bury Museum and Archive has produced a series of open-minded displays. In spite of the few sections of the displays that are a bit obscure, the resultant feeling from these exhibitions is that visitors are included in the history of Bury and are encouraged to think about it, rather than having it imposed on them. Add to that the very good supporting booklets and extremely knowledgeable staff and this is a great opening. 

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Seven Stories

There has been a lot of talk about literacy initiatives in schools but still children’s books get little attention from adults. They are rarely reviewed in mainstream press, and bookshops tend to have only a small selection of the many available titles. But this should change if Seven Stories: the Centre for Children’s Books has its way. Based around a unique collection of literature and illustration for children the centre wants to engage visitors in conversation about storytelling and bookmaking. Judging by the current displays it should provide young readers and budding authors and illustrators with a wealth of inspiration.

Seven Stories’ founding directors, Elizabeth Hammill and Mary Briggs, started collecting the archive 1996. They aimed to collect not only the finished article but also works that show the process of writing and illustrating, including manuscripts, sketches and research materials. Seven Stories provides a series of spaces in which the people who read the books can explore not only the stories, but also those process of creating them. It includes exhibition spaces, workshop and drama spaces as well as a café and dedicated children’s bookshop. 

The current exhibition is a great example of how the collection can be used to engage children with books and storytelling. Incredible Journeys explores four themes based around key elements of storytelling: place, words, time and character. Each section contains sketches, manuscripts and finished works, and although there are a selection of hands-on activities the literature and illustrations are the stars of the show.

There is something here for people of all ages. Each room has a graphic backdrop designed by a different children’s illustrator. Artworks from the archive are hung at child-friendly height, though not so low that adults have to stoop. It is a visual feast for young eyes that want to enjoy seeing characters from books they know. For those experimenting with language World of Words features witty poems that explore word play against a backdrop illustrated by Satoshi Kitamura. 

For anyone who enjoys storytelling or perhaps wants to be a writer or illustrator the exhibition provides a wealth of inspiration that clearly expresses the raison d’etre of the archive. This comes not just from the variety of ideas on display, but because the exhibition shows how the work is produced. 

Perhaps one of the clearest examples of this is found in World of Characters. It is a case containing J K Rowling’s draft for chapter six of the first Harry Potter book alongside a plan for chapter seven and a sketch to help her visualise her characters. There is not a page of the draft chapter that isn’t covered in crossing out and revisions. The chapter plan shows Rowling ordering her thoughts and working out a plan of action for the story. Here is one part of the writing process, more eloquently explained than in any ‘how to’ manual.

The Time Room shows another part. Pinned on the wall are photos of the garden at King’s Mill House which was the inspiration for Phillipa Pearce’s story Tom’s Midnight Garden. The adjacent case shows that inspiration is just the start. Pearce was meticulous in her research and the case contains books, diaries, records of conversations and letters she wrote to check facts. For any budding author here are some valuable tips. For those who are just keen readers, perhaps there will be a deeper understanding of how stories are created.

There is encouragement for young illustrators too. The artworks in the exhibition cover all stages of the design process, from Angela Barrett’s sketch book to Peter Boston’s illustrations that are marked up with directions for the printer. Many of the drawings are one offs, though; perhaps future exhibitions will show illustrations at all stages of development, from sketches to the finished article.

As with many museums, Seven Stories can only show a selection of its collection at any one time. The archive is in fact housed at Newcastle University as there are no onsite storage facilities at the centre. However, some of the collection has been digitised and this can be accessed from Seven Stories in Story Lab, a dedicated space where students and researchers will be able to have computer access to the digitised collection.

The other spaces in Seven Stories continue to explore the process of writing and drawing through workshops, talks and drama. The flexibility of the spaces allows for a wide range of activities suitable for all age groups and interests, and there is an interesting programme of forthcoming events. At the top of the building Artists’ Attic is set in the rafters, and the exposed beams combine with drapes to give a theatrical feel to the space. It is an area for storytelling, drama and talks. Engine Room is an education and workshop space set in a bright, naturally lit room at the bottom of the building, overlooking the river. There is plenty of room for a group to sit and listen to a story; alternatively there are lots of props to aid in story telling or to use as inspiration for drawings. Events include workshops by illustrators and ‘walk in‘ activities which link to ideas in the exhibitions. Current activities include Word Factory where visitors can make their favourite words out of brightly coloured pipe cleaners and stick them on a wall for all to see. It’s fun to do, and interesting to read everyone else’s words.

There is a real buzz at Seven Stories. The enthusiasm for books and illustration at is hard to miss, and it is great to find somewhere that manages to convey that enthusiasm so effortlessly to a wide range of age groups. It is equally hard to see how it can fail to engage new generations of readers, authors and illustrators.

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Creating Connections

It’s a longstanding question: how do you make science more accessible? Many initiatives have attempted this, and museums have often played a key role. The most recent attempt was the public understanding of science movement (PUS), which began in response to a perceived loss of confidence in science. Now widely discredited in its approach, PUS has become shorthand for an authoritarian, ‘cognitive-deficit’ stance that tried to make ‘the public’ more appreciative of science. But controversial issues involving science keep hitting the headlines, and the distance between the scientific and non-scientific communities remains. So how should museums present science and allow visitors to engage in a dialogue?

Creating Connections contains the selected papers from a conference that discussed just that. Enabling full public engagement and dialogue about science is a new task for museums, and Creating Connections should perhaps be viewed as a discussion document. It argues for ‘public understanding of research’ (PUR) and sets out history, rationale, strategies and examples and advice from other media. However, rather than leading the way in a key debate this book is a missed opportunity.

At the core of the book is a distinction between the public understanding of research, and the public understanding of science. Unfortunately none of the contributors seem too sure of what PUR is, although two main definitions filter through. The primary definition is also a rationale. PUR is about engagement with issues: where PUS imposed, PUR will debate. This is to be greatly welcomed, but sadly the strategies and case studies set out in the book imply that the reality will be somewhat different. The key problem seems to be in considering the audience. Engagement requires listening, not assuming authority, not considering ‘the public’ as a homogeneous mass and considering all views as valid. Yet here authors talk about what ‘the public’ need to know, or to learn, in order to understand ‘the scientific process’. This doesn’t sound like engagement; the tone is the same old cognitive deficit approach to a better public appreciation of science. 

Suggestions for methods of engagement don’t fare much better. Albert and Edna Einseidel give a succinct account of a continuum of engagement, but other contributors pay only lip service to the most interactive forms such as consensus conferences. Events at which scientists meet ‘the public’ take precedence. It is easy to see the advantages of this to the scientists, but what will visitors gain? No one seems to have asked. There doesn’t seem to be any acknowledgement of the fact that most scientific issues have a political and/or ethical nature. It’s no good talking to scientists if politicians make the decisions. The Einseidels suggest that avoidance of politics will be foremost in many museums’ minds and the book seems to bear out their hunch.

The second definition of PUR is given by the dubious distinction between ‘finished’ and ‘unfinished’ science (when does science become ‘finished’, and who says so?). It turns out that ‘unfinished’ refers to new science that hits the headlines. Many of the strategies and examples of PUR in museums are about exhibits on these stories, and are more concerned with revealing scientific process than with engagement. Five chapters are given to print and broadcast professionals to tell us how they choose and develop science features. It turns out that this is quite straightforward: it’s the story, stupid. But what comes through in these chapters is how difficult it can be to turn a story around quickly, despite the amazing amounts of resources news organisations have. Other contributors acknowledge this and suggest forming networks so that museums can share resources and workload. But no-one asks why museums should try to compete with better resourced, well-established daily news media. Nor do they ask why ‘unfinished’ science should be any better than ‘finished’ science at illustrating the complexities of a subject inextricably linked to other practices and values.

There is one author who does raise concerns about the limited vision of PUR presented in Creating Connections. Don Pohlman’s two chapters, especially the afterword, elegantly articulate his concerns about this nascent field. They are one of the few points in the book where the subject is given careful thought and reflection. It is interesting, and disappointing, that the other noteworthy chapters are written by non-museum professionals. As well as the Einseidels’s contribution, Bruce Lewenstein and Rick Bonney neatly outline some of the complexities surrounding science and the public. Tim Radford’s article is a sparking showcase of faced-paced journalistic style, and Christine Cansfield-Smith’s account of the Discovery building at CSIRO in Canberra is extremely interesting and insightful. But it is Pohlman who stands out as the person who makes a considered overview of the subject.

Also of interest is the slightly puzzling choice of papers making up Creating Connections. A list of delegates in the appendix shows that the conference was international, and yet of the 32 contributors to the book, 24 are from the US, six from the UK (three of whom are from the Science Museum) and one each from Australia and Canada. There are no papers from the rest of Europe, in spite of the fact that the most cited talks were by François Vescia of La Cité des Sciences and delegates from the Hygiene Museum, Dresden. I would really liked to have read their contributions, not least because the Hygiene Museum has organised consensus conferences.

There is no doubt that there is a need to show and explore how closely science is intertwined with society. And there is no doubt that for many issues involving science, engagement by all interested parties on equal terms is desirable. Museums can play a role in this. The distinction between public understanding of research and public understanding of science is pretty shaky, but it is inevitable that any new field will raise more questions than it answers. What is noticeable in Creating Connections is how many questions are not asked. The debate needs to be much more sophisticated than that presented here.

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