Thread by @ClimateOfGavin

A thread on the iniquity, chance and contingent nature of having a ‘voice’ in the climate debate.

“To those that have shall be given” is a paraphrase of Mathew 13:12 where it refers to knowledge. But it is an apt description of the attention economy too.

People in the public eye, or who already have ‘voices’, are overwhelmingly the favorite ppl to be asked to do new things, be part of new projects, and if these are successful, have their profile even more elevated.

This is, of course, tremendously unfair to the voices that have new or untold stories to tell.

But there was a time when all of these voices were unknown to the wider public. How did that change? Why were these voices ‘plucked’ from obscurity? Were they born with a silver microphone in their lapels?

"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em." (Twelfth night).

The same is true for a public voice.

Ironically, the credit for that line is given to Malvolio, even though it was nominally written by Maria whose letter Malvolio is reading. (There’s a lesson there...)

Where did I get my ‘voice’ for instance? (such that it is). I’d always been someone who liked to explain things to classmates, and I took a broad view of the subject (I’m a lumper, not a splitter), but I didn’t have any special access.

My first (brief) interview was with @RadioCanadaInfo who were covering a local climate conference. I’d given a talk on Cretaceous climate. Afterwards they explained how interested their listeners were in dinosaurs.

Here is the interview in full:

[RC] what was the climate of the cretaceous like?
[me] it was hot.
[RC] how hot?
[me] very hot!
[RC] merci!

Out of such trifles are reputations in public speaking made. 😉

In the late 1990s, some of my science got a little press attention - nothing massive.

In 2001, I was driven to writing letters to the editor to correct egregious nonsense.

(At this point I was still naively expecting to be thanked for my efforts.)

[narrator: he was not]

I started to meet & learn from an older generation of spokespeople - Jim Hansen, Steve Schneider, and develop relationships with journalists.

But my frustration with the ‘public discourse’ about climate grew. The talking heads were the Jon Snow’s of climate - they knew nothing.

But folks that did have expertise didn’t have any direct lines to the newsrooms and there weren’t enough of them anyway.

What could be done?

At a scientist/journalist workshop in 2003(?) organized by Bud Ward, I realized that many others shared my frustration and a sense that something needed to change. But practical ideas were thin on the ground.

Then came the Day After Tomorrow - a singular film that is simultaneously the worst and the best film to ever have a paleo-climatologist as the lead character. (Think about it).

It should have/could have been a massive teaching moment. Instead, we got this...

A couple of static web pages at LDEO and Woods Hole, some talking points I wrote that NASA belatedly sent out (not for attribution though), and a promise from the producers that they’d do a better job on the DVD special features. Not a shining moment for climate #scicomm.

That was when I decided that if it wasn’t somebody else’s job to do this better, I was going to try it myself.

As I started talking about what that would look like, I found like-minded folk who wanted to do the same. And more importantly, 2004 was the summer of the ‘blog’.

(Can you imagine a world without social media where they idea of a continually updated web site with comments required a radical act of imagination? Nor can I anymore, but it really wasn’t that long ago).

And lo! @realclimate was born.

I’ll spare you a rundown of the growing pains of running a blog in those days.

But the work there lead directly to a big uptick in requests and opportunities to do media. Mainly because there was somewhere journalists could go easily.

And once you are in the Rolodex, you can stay in it until you stop picking up the phone. And the rest, as they say, is history.

But what lessons does this hold today for the next generation of voices, if any?

I think there are some.

First and foremost, it helps enormously if you have something to say and a conviction that it needs to be said. It’s a long road and there will be many distractions.

Second, find a team. You can’t do everything yourself, and colleagues can keep things ticking over when you’ve had enough, and temper your enthusiasm when it might lead you astray.

Third, be strategic. The temptation is to discuss everything and react to everything. If you want to do so, knock yourself out, but it’s mostly a waste of time and energy. Looking back, the endless sprawling comment threads are unreadable.

But some of the best stuff we wrote - synthesis, explainers, concepts - is still good today and has made a longer lasting contribution.

Fourth, persevere. It can take time to craft your voice, find a niche, expand it, make connections. Though some appear to arrive on the scene fully formed, they too have a story of before they were known.

Five, it really helps if you spread the joy. Pass along opportunities that could be better fits for someone else, and you’ll find things that fit you being passed back to you in turn.

A deeper bench makes it easier for everyone.

Other ‘voices’ have had different paths, and although we do have some responsibility for those paths there are a lot of contingencies that shaped it. Recognizing this - as I think most do - helps our ability to mentor and help the next generation.

The good news is that the bench is deepening all the time. The ppl I’m following most closely were people I hadn’t heard of even a year ago. Break-throughs happen.