Why Science Communication Is Breaking Down, and How Philanthropy Can Fix It

Scientific knowledge has never been more abundant, and never harder to trust. A new perspective article published in Frontiers in Systems Biology argues that the pipeline connecting biomedical discovery to public understanding is fracturing at every stage, from slow and exclusionary peer review to the collapse of local journalism and the rise of AI chatbots as knowledge intermediaries. The authors, a team from the Milken Institute’s Science Philanthropy Accelerator for Research and Collaboration in Washington, DC, describe a modern version of the childhood game of telephone: as scientific findings pass from researchers through journals, journalists, institutions, and social platforms, messages become distorted, uncertainty gets stripped away, and credibility becomes harder to judge. Their prescription is a coordinated redesign of the science communication ecosystem, with philanthropy positioned as the catalytic funder capable of driving change across the entire chain.

The timing of the argument is not accidental. The COVID-19 pandemic offered a stress test of how science reaches the public, and the results were sobering. Rapidly evolving evidence forced frequent updates to public health guidance, but inconsistent messaging and inadequate explanation of scientific uncertainty bred confusion. Social media amplified both accurate information and misleading claims at unprecedented speed, and simplified or sensational narratives frequently outran nuanced, evidence-based explanations. The authors argue that the pandemic did not create these weaknesses but exposed them, revealing that the institutions and incentives supporting science communication have not evolved at the pace required by a decentralized, algorithmically mediated information environment.

The first stage of breakdown occurs before a finding ever leaves the laboratory’s orbit. Peer-reviewed journals remain the gold standard for communication within the biomedical community, prized for their rigorous scientific and editorial oversight. Yet the path to publication is fraught. Manuscript submission fees can be prohibitive, rejection rates are high, and peer review and editorial processes are lengthy. The imbalance between available peer reviewers and the volume of manuscripts awaiting review has worsened since the pandemic, and it has been compounded as submission numbers climb, driven in part by researchers using large language models to draft manuscripts. Publishing incentives also favor positive findings and novel discoveries over the confirmatory studies and negative data that build a complete evidence base.

Access is the other half of the problem. Full-length journal articles often sit behind expensive paywalls, and even when they are readable, dense field-specific terminology and technical precision prioritized over clear storytelling can render them impenetrable to biomedical professionals outside a given specialty. Many journals have introduced remedies, including open access options, required plain-language summaries, and graphical abstracts, but adoption is inconsistent and enforcement is weak. Plain-language summaries remain relatively uncommon or overly technical, and graphical abstracts can themselves create accessibility barriers for some audiences. The result is a system in which even the professionals most likely to translate research for others struggle to obtain and understand it.

The authors propose a layered set of fixes for this first stage. Journals can use their own data on readership, citation metrics, and digital engagement to evaluate which editorial policies actually work and to refine guidelines for data sharing and plain-language summaries. Research institutions can retain department- and school-level support from in-house statisticians, graphic designers, technical writers, and communications specialists, and extend equitable access to those staff regardless of a research team’s size or funding. Researchers themselves are urged to write for the professional backgrounds of their intended audiences, to describe the conditions under which findings apply while acknowledging limitations and uncertainty, to develop fluency in accessible visual communication, and to use preprint outlets when publication costs are prohibitive. Philanthropic funders, meanwhile, can incentivize these practices among grantees; the authors cite the Misophonia Research Fund, which engaged a communications firm to strengthen grantees’ skills and hosted a virtual forum to share findings with both the biomedical community and the public.

The second stage, interpretation and distribution, is where the telephone game gets truly dangerous. Once research is published, findings are picked up, translated, and repackaged for different audiences, and every act of reinterpretation is an opportunity to introduce inaccuracy. Science journalism sits at the center of this relay, and it is struggling badly. As the advertising-based model that historically supported news platforms collapses, legacy media organizations have lost reporting capacity, particularly in specialized areas like science. The United States is losing an average of more than two newspapers per week, and the spread of news deserts, communities with few or no local news sources, matters because local news is highly trusted and has significant reach, making it a key vehicle for disseminating accurate scientific information. The contraction also means fewer opportunities for specialized training: most journalists are generalists, and fewer than 3 percent bring an undergraduate science major to their reporting.

As journalism recedes, other actors fill the vacuum, often without preparation. Clinical and research scientists increasingly post on social media, write for public audiences, and engage with reporters, but they are not typically trained in public communication and risk misrepresenting nuance or uncertainty in ways that inadvertently undermine trust. Misinformation compounds the problem. Although blame often falls on social media, the authors note that inaccurate scientific information stems from many sources, including corporations, government offices, entertainment media, press offices, individual scientists, healthcare professionals, and research institutions. AI platforms and large language model chatbots now serve as additional distribution channels, with the potential to amplify both accurate and misleading content. Because misinformation thrives in the absence of easily accessible, credible information, the authors argue that everyone participating in the ecosystem bears responsibility for sharing reliable science.

Remedies for the distribution stage already exist and can be scaled. Training programs and fellowships support specialized science journalism, exemplified by the Knight Science Journalism Academic-Year fellows who spend a year at MIT exploring research and honing technical skills. Scientific societies can train scientists to work with journalists: SciLine, developed by the American Association for the Advancement of Science, offers journalists free training, resources for evidence-based reporting, and a matching service that pairs reporters with scientific experts, while scientists in its network receive media training. Universities can embed communication skills in scientific training, as Stony Brook University does through a science communication certification offered with the Alan Alda Center for Communicating Science during doctoral study. Philanthropy has a distinctive opening here, exemplified by Press Forward, a national network led by the MacArthur Foundation that aims to strengthen local news and close coverage gaps by lowering barriers for new funders. Because much philanthropic giving is place-based and rooted in personal interests, the authors argue that science journalism, sitting at the intersection of those domains, can appeal to many funders.

The third stage, public engagement, is where the paradox of modern science communication becomes starkest. Polling from the Pew Research Center reported in April 2026 found that 85 percent of Americans obtain science and health information at least sometimes from healthcare providers, 66 percent from people with similar health experiences, and 60 percent from major health websites such as WebMD or Mayo Clinic. Journalists and news organizations were cited by 46 percent, government health agencies by 45 percent, social media by 36 percent, and AI chatbots by 22 percent. Yet despite this abundance of channels, global and US public confidence in the ability to find reliable answers and make informed health decisions has significantly declined in the past year, according to the Edelman Trust Barometer. The authors attribute this paradox to the multiple layers of reinterpretation in the current pipeline: different platforms deliver conflicting or oversimplified narratives, leaving audiences uncertain about what to believe and more likely to gravitate toward the most prominent or emotionally compelling voices.

The encouraging news is that trust itself is not the missing ingredient. Roughly 70 percent of Americans report at least moderate trust in scientists to act in the public’s best interest, and about 75 percent prioritize sources that demonstrate relevant medical expertise, disclose conflicts of interest, and present information clearly. Preferences vary across populations: people with lower incomes or less formal education are more likely to prioritize likability and relatability, while those without health insurance often emphasize convenience, including access through social media and AI platforms. The central weakness, the authors conclude, is a misalignment between trust, accessibility, and communication pathways. Their recommendations include having academic medical centers incentivize faculty and clinicians to engage in outreach and pair them with professional science communicators, as the Mayo Clinic has done by counting digital and social media scholarship among criteria for academic advancement. Community-level partnerships matter too: the Barbershop Talk with Brothers program, a collaboration between the Arthur Ashe Institute for Urban Health and SUNY Downstate Medical Center, trains barbers who are trusted advisors in Brooklyn to communicate evidence-based health information. Structural incentives, such as tying grants or accreditation to demonstrated public communication, and philanthropic support for programs like the ARVO Science Communication Training Fellowship could make outreach a core component of scientific careers. The challenge, in the authors’ framing, is not a deficit of public trust in science but the failure to ensure that accurate, transparent, and understandable information is easy to find, easy to engage with, and easy to trust, and philanthropy’s risk-tolerant capital may be the force best positioned to rebuild those connections.

Subject of Research: Redesigning the biomedical science communication ecosystem from publication to public engagement

Article Title: Bridging communication gaps across the biomedical ecosystem

Article References: Bridging communication gaps across the biomedical ecosystem. (n.d.). https://doi.org/10.3389/fsysb.2026.1939110

Image Credits: AI Generated

DOI: 10.3389/fsysb.2026.1939110

Keywords: science communication, biomedical research, peer review, misinformation, science journalism, social media, large language models, public trust, philanthropy, health information, news deserts, community health