Over the past few weeks, I, along with representatives of SPSSI’s peer societies, began meeting with Democratic and Republican offices on Capitol Hill to advocate for basic research funding and support for the National Science Foundation. Our conversations revealed several areas where social scientists still need to do a better job communicating their value to the public as well as their role in the U.S. scientific apparatus.
 

These meetings spawned from the President’s proposed FY 2027 budget, which cuts funding for the National Science Foundation by 55 percent while eliminating the Social, Behavioral, and Economic Sciences Directorate, the primary source of basic social research funding in the United States. Because of these cuts, as well as the surprise firing of the entire National Science Board, SPSSI and its partner societies are requesting a formal confirmation hearing for James O’Neil, the President’s nominee to lead the agency, so he can answer questions about the National Science Foundation’s future on the record.
 

Some congressional offices are more receptive than others, which is not unexpected given the “woke” or “silly science” stereotypes surrounding social research. But even among sympathetic staff, persistent myths or misunderstandings of the scientific process peppered our conversations.
 

For example, in defending basic science, we highlighted the role basic linguistic research played in the development of AI. Their response: “Don’t worry, we’re still going to fund AI research.” This, of course, is not how basic research works. J.R. Firth didn’t study distributional semantics with the goal of developing an LLM, just as the Clarks didn’t hand children dolls with the goal of contributing to a Supreme Court amicus brief. Those policymakers who told us not to worry believe they can enjoy the fruits of basic research without nurturing its seeds.
 

Part of this misunderstanding is an issue of storytelling, which other scientific disciplines have used to defend their fields more successfully than social science. Inherently, these stories often elide nuance in which social scientists revel. Take, for example, this frequently-cited example of basic research with real-world implications:
 

In 1992, Dr. John Eng was studying the components of Gila monster venom when he discovered a hormone similar in structure to human GLP-1, leading to Ozempic.
 

This story is true, even if it leaves out decades of research and development from biochemists, doctors, engineers, lawyers, marketers, pharmaceutical executives, and countless others involved in making this Gila monster hormone the wonder drug of the 21st century. Still, it is punchy, surprising, and immediately tangible to the listener. Social science has struggled to replicate this approach, since our research rarely results in something as tangible as new drugs or technology.
 

This poses a strategic question: is it better to educate policymakers on the nuances of the scientific process, or is it better to tell a good story? With funding cuts posing an immediate existential threat to so many social science disciplines, time is limited, and we may not have the luxury of doing both. What is the punchy, surprising, immediately tangible social science version of “Gila monster venom = Ozempic” that can convince policymakers and the public that this work is worth defending? 

Right now, many of you are probably working on your presentations for SPSSI’s
Summer Conference in New Orleans. Think carefully about the story you’re telling about your research. How would it play outside a room of friendly peers? If you’ve identified a social problem, can you articulate what you want policymakers with money or regulatory authority to do about that problem? Where does your study nestle in the broader narrative of social justice? Practice this storytelling among friends so, when the conference is over, we can keep telling social science’s story to a public that needs to hear it.