Perched on a cantaloupe slice, the palm-sized animal – with its glossy chitinous surface and half dozen legs – sat motionless. The black-green bug looked more like a statuesque chess piece and less like a creepy insect. It was probably the reason why Dan Babbit chose the Atlas Beetle as his companion and ice breaker. Babbit is the manager of Smithsonian’s Insect zoo, and that day he was addressing a new group of museum volunteers and he started with the blunt question: “Is anyone afraid of bugs?”
Never before had I’d seen a science discussion start with a disclaimer.
Dan was being careful before bringing the live specimen for the volunteer’s closer inspection. Who can blame him – in the US alone there are 19 million entomophobes. How can we teach entomology to such a crowd? Can we break the bug phobia stereotype?
Here at Sci-Ed we started investigating reasons that may explain the fear of bugs. We mentioned repulsion, disease-carrying potential, cultural aversion, and even deeper philosophical issues. Now, we list suggestions to encourage the general public to value insects:
Changing our perception of the bug. Phillip Weinstein recommends we “put insects in a more positive light, and to remove such fears as may be passed on from parents, zoos and museums can play an integral educational role.” At the Smithsonian’s Insect Zoo, Dan Babbit creates a safe and fun environment for visitors to learn more about insects and arachnids. Which brings me to the next topic…
Creating mesmerizing museum exhibits. At the Smithsonian’s insect zoo, visitors can face their fears by watching the daily tarantula feedings. Children sit on the floor in expectation, and adults toughen up to touch a cockroach atop a researcher’s hand. At the Florida Museum of Natural History, visitors can watch students and volunteers pin butterflies for the museum’s lepidoptera collection. (An epic collection, housed in a three story building, library-style: each book-sized spot contains one box of butterflies or moths). If you catch curator Andy Warren, you may even get a behind the scenes tour of oddities in the moth and butterfly world.
Fostering cool class projects, like spidernauts. Babbitt, who keeps a space spider in his freezer, has talked to Sci-Ed earlier about engaging the public and raising their interest in arthropods. Stories like the space spiders brought a lot of attention to those invertebrates. Jumping spiders were sent to the space station and broadcast to thousands of classrooms on Earth. Kids accompanied the arachnid’s journey by observing their own hand-caught spiders. After the experiment was over, one of the spiders, Nefertiti, was flown back to Earth and housed in the Insect Zoo. Visitors who may walk right past a spider exhibit felt compelled to stop and ask about the space spider.
Taking advantage of outreach programs. According to entomologist turned psychologist Jeffrey Lockwood, “About 20 percent of children fearful of spider and insects report learning their aversion from parents”. Kids are not innately afraid. During a visit to the University of Florida Entomology Department, I asked resident expert Stephanie Stocks if she observes the parent effect during school visits. Much like Dan Babbit, Stocks brings zoo bugs in tow. She reported that, up to second grade, children are unanimously curious. Some older kids, however, learned from their parents that they should step back. Arachnologist Chris Buddle visits kids in their classrooms and describes the experience in his blog – along with a powerful call to arms. Buddle states that spending time teaching kids about entomology is always worth it.
Participating in pop culture. Like we said before in Sci-Ed, using storytelling and heroes to teach science won’t hurt. One study (pdf) found, unsurprisingly, that children did much better at identifying Pokémon types as opposed to animal or bug species. Films such as A Bug’s Life and Antz took the anthropomorphic route. In the words of Lockwood, “If turning humans into insects countenances hate, then turning insects into humans has the opposite effect. Artists humanize insect heroes by transforming their alien features into eyes, mouths, heads, and appendages more like our own.”
Keeping a pet bug. Curator Andy Warren told me he was once afraid of spiders, which sounds like a peculiar setback for an entomologist. Warren conquered his fear after caring for a pet tarantula. One study tracks thousands of children to look into the effects of keeping an invertebrate pet. The authors observed several benefits from keeping a pet insect that go way beyond loosing fear of bugs and contribute to an expanded view of ecology and science.
I might get a pet beetle myself. And hope that one day we won’t need to start classes by asking if anyone’s afraid of bugs.
References and further reading
Balmford et al. Why conservationists should heed Pokemon. Science 295 (5564): 2367b, 2002.
Prokop et al. Effects of keeping animals as pets on children’s concepts of vertebrates and invertebrates. International Journal of Science Education, Vol 30, No 4, 431-449, 2008.
Snaddon et al. Children’s Perceptions of Rainforest Biodiversity: Which Animals Have the Lion’s Share of Environmental Awareness? PLOS One DOI: 10.1371/journal.pone.0002579 , 2008.
I first met Chris Palmer when I attended his lecture about ethics in wildlife film. Palmer is a wildlife filmmaker, and his CV includes IMAX productions like Whales and To the Arctic, and the book Shooting in the Wild: An Insider’s Account of Making Movies in the Animal Kingdom. Also a conservation advocate, Chris believes that filmmakers “have a responsibility of raising viewer awareness of the serious environmental problems facing the world”. We talked further (he graciously agreed to answer a few interview questions) and we both agree that wildlife films are great opportunity to educate the general public about science and spread a message of conservation. But, like Chris said, “[solely] promoting the beauty of the natural world is not the same as conservation.” How can we use wildlife films to educate?
Can we learn science from wildlife films?
The use of films to teach science is not new. According to Gregg Mitman in Cinematic Nature, “the motion picture was first developed not for entertainment purposes, but for the analysis of animal motion.” In 1882, French physiologists Etienne-Jules Marey recorded pelicans in flight, with the goal to understand animal movement. Soon after, Eadweard Muybridge proved Marey’s hypothesis that a horse can have all four hooves off the ground, and photographed a galloping horse. Mitman also points out several other occasions in which film was used to benefit science, such as teaching surgery techniques and anatomy lessons (and also serve as inspiration for the pursuit of science).
Since those early recordings for teaching and study, science and nature films have immensely diversified. Films allow for observation of animal behavior in their natural environment (such as hunting behavior recorded from penguins carrying cameras). We can now watch footage from remote locations that show exotic animals in their habitat. A broad spectrum of wildlife films is available to the public, from the high budget, state-of-the-art IMAX productions, to independent short films on habitat conservation. And somewhere in between, let’s not forget the “reality shows” and the presenter-led TV series (including the ones on the search for a hidden beast, real or otherwise). Besides giving us access to inhospitable ecosystems, films can also raise public interest in science and therefore encourage science education. Like Chris Palmer told me, “[wildlife film’s] job is to raise awareness and promote conservation.”
Wildlife film has shaped the general public’s understanding of science. How did it reach the status of scientific authority?
Many people rely on wildlife films (and lately, on nature-related reality TV shows such as Meerkat Manor or Dangerous Encounters) as their source of scientific information. Nature films have the potential to educate and to bridge the knowledge gap between the general public and the scientific community. Such a gap is sometimes referred as the “deficit model,” or the “assumption that differences in understanding between experts and the lay public result from the latter’s ignorance of science,” according to Dingwall and Aldridge in their analysis of TV wildlife programming as science education source. (The debate over the deficit model is extensive and was recently discussed at the 2013 Science Online conference. In the words of science educator and PLOS colleague Jean Flanagan, “[the model is] at the very least incomplete; much misunderstanding of science goes further than just not being aware of the facts.”)
The public has come to trust films and see them as a scientific truth. In her study of scientific authority in wildlife film, Rebecca Wexler reports that “viewers regard ﬁlm sequences as realistic because of cultural tendencies resulting from 19th century understandings of photography and ﬁlm as mechanically accurate reproductions of the visual world.” This also happens because movies are labeled as scientifically correct and factual.
When I asked Chris Palmer him what he thought of scientific accuracy in nature films, he responded “you can find many scientists who are appalled at how they have been portrayed in documentaries and how their message has been corrupted and messed with by filmmakers for the sake of ratings.” It turns out this status of scientific authority is given to nature films even in cases of scripted dramas: footage that has been twisted to accommodate a sequence of edited scenes closely following a script.
Rebecca Wexler focused her analysis of scientific authority in film on March of the Penguins. The film shows beautiful footage of emperor penguins in their journey across Antarctica to breed and raise a chick (a task that has been deemed “the worst journey in the world” by Aspley Cherry-Garrard, who brought back an emperor’s egg in 1911). March’s constant use of anthropomorphism might have brought unwanted attention to the movie. Creationist groups have deemed this film as “proof” of intelligent design (ID). The fact that emperor penguins form mating pairs is seen as support for “traditional family values” of monogamy and heterosexuality. The hardship that emperors go through to raise chicks was believed to support ID (even though, for scientists, it seems like the opposite). Even the lack of conservation messages in the film has fueled an anti-global warming movement (if the penguins are doing fine, why should we be concerned?). Jean explored this topic in an earlier post on cultural cognition: groups (both creationists and scientists) will align with concepts that match their worldview, regardless of facts or accuracy.
The film is a beautiful drama, and it should be seen as such. Anthropomorphism is used with the goal of creating and emotional connection with the audience. For example, narrator Morgan Freeman explains some of the scenes: “‘[the penguins] are not that different from us, really. They pout, they bellow, they strut, and occasionally they will engage in some contact sports.” The movie director and distributors claimed that “the movie is simply a tale about penguins and that any attempt to divine a deeper meaning is misguided.” Except when films are portrayed as scientific facts and presented to a credulous non-scientific audience, perhaps they have a responsibility to make their intentions clear.
If films like March of the Penguins are seen as scientific authority and becoming a resource for creationism or ID beliefs (which may influence school curricula in parts of the US), what other non-scientific ideas are films serving as authority for? Should we expect to see nature “documentaries” about the search for Sasquatch or the Loch Ness monster? (Oh wait, those already exist. Finding Bigfoot and Mermaid: the body found are only a few examples. Pseudoscience and cryptozoology in TV is illustrated by skeptic investigator Benjamin Radford.)
Wildlife drama vs wildlife documentary: films should either be accurate or provide disclosure as being pure storytelling
In 1926, William Douglas Burden set out to film and capture komodo dragons for the Bronx Zoo. The resulting film was a hit, and it caused the increased number of zoo visitors hoping to see the reptiles up close. However, visitors were disappointed: the lethargic animals looked nothing like the blood-thirsty komodo dragons pictured in the movie. In order to create that behavior, the film was heavily edited and staged (watch a clip), the animals were baited with meat (you can even see strings holding it together), and Burden was not even present during their capture. As Mitman points out, “nature uncut and unedited is never as dramatic and captivating as nature onscreen.” In our interview, Chris Palmer mentioned that “[mass appeal] affects [science portrayal] in a big way. No one wants to watch a dull, pedantic, tedious scientist on TV, however exact, accurate, and nuanced they are being.”
Wildlife “drama” now employs a storyline and a script. It includes characters, that can be scientists or naturalists, but are usually the animals themselves. Animal characters are given a name, a role, and an anthropomorphic personality. They undergo a “hero’s journey,” complete with great adversity and conquest (e.g. a story on a long migration). The journey is put together by editing scenes from footage of different animals obtained in different geographic locations. The animal’s anthropomorphic behavior is accentuated by emotional narration and a celebrity narrator or on-camera host. Character’s “roles” reinforce human gender and societal roles such as good guys (prey), bad guys (predator), nuclear families (the mother takes care of the young while father hunts — apparently no one has heard of ostrich harens and male caretakers).
I don’t see a problem in using an interesting narrative. At the end of Whales, one of Chris’s IMAX productions, mother and calf whales “Misty” and “Echo” were not the same animals who started their migration in the beginning of the film. (Until we have humpback whale GPS, filmmakers have to improvise by recording different animals.) Still, referring to two other whales with those names might strengthen the storyline. I also enjoy the editing and narration, when they serve to educate. I am fine with staging with captive animals, as long as they are humanely treated (after all, I watch sea lions feeding every week and appreciate the educational opportunity the National Zoo is offering to its audience), and it can be especially useful to illustrate behavior otherwise impossible to see. What I am not happy with is the excessive anthropomorphism (Lucy Sullivan illustrates how anthropomorphism defeats science) and the lack of mention of conservation.
“Environmental films need to do more to encourage conservation because the world’s ecosystems are troubled and in decline,” Chris believes. After I asked how can films adapt to better convey a scientific message of conservation, he stated “by listening more attentively and respectfully to the best scientists we have. Of course, what puts them into that category is that they are humane scientists who respect the rights of animals not to be harassed or harmed.”
Therefore, if a wildlife documentary is not a documentary, and is storytelling or wildlife drama instead, we should treat it as such. Because of its mass appeal, films have an enormous potential to raise awareness and drive change. I’d love to see it increase scientific literacy and to spread a message of conservation. Otherwise, in Chris Palmer’ words, “there would soon be nothing left to film.”
Dingwall and Aldridge, Public Understanding of Science 15, 131–152 (2006)
De Cheveigné, Public Understanding of Science 5, (1996) 231-253
Kalof and Amthor, Etudes rurales, (2010) 165-180
Kalof et al, Organization Environment (2011) 1-25
Kilborn, Jump Cut: A Review of Contemporary Media 48 (2006)