The gap that separates science from people in Brazil

In critical moments, such as a pandemic, science demands trust from the population. But how can this be achieved if the research is far from the reality of many Brazilians? “You have to trust the science. You have to trust what the scientists say and suggest.” In my 28-year life, I have never witnessed a moment when people’s confidence in science was as urgent as the COVID-19 pandemic. It is no exaggeration to say that at different times millions of lives depended on this trust.

I vividly remember that at the time, in the heat of passion and the polarization that has continued to guide the country ever since, any individual who would make the slightest sign of complete distrust was soon seen as a denier and a dissident. – Science, and for the most simple and shallow idealists, someone from the evil team.

Before anyone gets scared: No. I’m not a denier and I’m not here to support anti-science. I am a person close to academia, recently graduated from USP and aim to pursue a graduate degree in Public Policy at UFRJ.

The provocation I want to hold is another. I live in two worlds and today I understand that this is a privilege of my education. I was born and raised in one of the most slums in my city, and attended one of the best and most prestigious universities in the country.

Have you ever heard the phrase, “Trust must be earned”? Well, except for some cliché in which it is used, it makes a lot of sense to me and I believe in its meaning.

I was, in spite of much struggle and effort, fortunate enough to leave the social bubble of poverty and lack of information into which I was born and enter a good university. In another bubble, indeed, but this time a bubble where scientific knowledge is being built. There she came into close contact with the building of Brazilian science and greatly admired its researchers. And so they gained my trust.

Unfortunately, the same did not happen to my mother, father, grandmother, sisters, neighbors and millions of Brazilians scattered in favelas, communities and cities across the country. Those who, without even knowing it, contribute financially, by means of taxes, to our public universities, and thus to our scientific construction. However, they are not called to be a part of this amazing universe, at least not in the way that they should.

losing battles

My mother has a small shop on the doorstep and sells snacks for 1 riyal. I remember at the time of the pandemic I would constantly hear clients question what they saw on TV and spread statements that went against science.

Of course I tried to think with a “voice of reason”. I’m afraid to say I’ve lost almost every battle. My rhetorical powers may not have been so sharp, but I felt that in order to win, I simply needed them to fully trust what our researchers and scientists had to say, and that wasn’t going to happen. The reason is simple: they were not necessarily presented officially, and there was no confidence in reality. In fact, unfortunately, there was no relationship at all, and I clearly understood that.

It’s worth making it clear: I don’t question the results, validity, or seriousness of our science. I clearly understand its importance to the development of the country, to the health and well-being of the people, education, technology, infrastructure and everything you can think of.

Including, as I already mentioned in the text, our researchers, especially people in graduate school, deserve no less than our gratitude. Considering how dedicated and productive they are, how undervalued they are on the other hand.

In this text, my argument is topical: There is a huge gap between science and people in the country. Within the group of moments in which the scientific construction is with the participation of people, most of them follow a pattern such as: the application of questionnaires or interviews in a community to collect data or views. Then those clients go back to the universities, write an article, publish it, and never go back to the communities.

And so, on some level, even if not on purpose, there is a certain amount of people’s ability to contribute to our academic output is diminished and people feel excluded.

People’s potential

I recently read in an article by Sheila Jasanoff, an Indian scholar who teaches at Harvard University, the term co-production. Put simply, the term was born out of the same provocations as this text and suggests closer scholarly action between universities and societies. Defenders of the term recognize the potential of both agents and believe the strength of this partnership is enormous.

I remember a post that was going around on social media. I have taken a vulgar tone in some posts, but the content has always made a strong impression on me. It was a picture of a scientific communication banner in the halls of a university and a cleaner looking at it and apparently trying to understand. The most common and most accurate comment from my point of view was: “Is your research clear enough for the cleaning lady you helped fund?”

We know that the academic environment is characterized by much more ego than it should be. Humans, in general, have a certain instinct to feel different from others and part of a select group. This instinct widens the gap discussed here, and that’s a problem.

I admit I would like to see this debate get more attention, especially in the post-pandemic period, but that is not what is happening. It is urgent to talk about this. The pandemic has shown that life depends on this trust. The country’s development depends on breaking down this wall.

And here I invite and look for you, the people who do our science and who make up our universities, to put your energy into building bridges with people and society. It is no longer just an experience, hierarchical and vertical, but with a horizontal relationship and true appreciation. Please understand: There is as much wisdom in people as there is in the scientific works we so admire, and we cannot just ask for an unbeaten trust in an environment where there is not even a relationship.

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Vozes da Educação is a fortnightly column written by young people from Safeguard, a voluntary social program that helps public school students in Brazil attend university. The programme’s founder, Vinicius de Andrade, and the students Safeguard assists take turns in all states of the federation composing texts. Follow the program’s Instagram profile at @salvaguarda1

The text reflects the opinion of the author, not necessarily the opinion of DW.