ҹ1000

Washington diary

Andreas Frew reports

EVEN biologists and physicists, who tend to look down their noses at the
social sciences, agree that psychologists might be onto something when they
suggest that role models are important in shaping social behaviour. Advertisers
certainly agree. That’s why they’ll kill to get famous sports or movie stars to
use their products. Even politicians have got the message, although their ideas
of what should be considered a role model sometimes defy rational
understanding.

But the role model concept doesn’t appear to have taken hold at the National
Academy of Sciences. The academy—a government-chartered, independent,
self-regulating collection of America’s top scientists—has for years,
together with other leaders of the American scientific establishment, repeatedly
bemoaned the under-representation of women and ethnic minorities in the
sciences. There are numerous programmes, committees and awards designed to
tackle this problem. But when it comes to elevating women and minorities to the
exalted status of “member of the NAS”, to serve as an inspiration for younger
researchers who might feel their path to success in science is blocked by
historical prejudice, the answer always seems to be “wait till next year”.

The academy, it appears, has a bit of a not-in-my-backyard
problem—quite literally. At this year’s annual garden party for
members—which is held on the grass behind the NAS’s white marble building
near the Mall in Washington DC—it was hard to spot a face that wasn’t
white—excepting the service staff, of course.

Perhaps the academy is obeying another rule that social scientists have
learned: it’s easier to give advice than to take it.

IT’S TIME for the new guy in the White House (yes, as ever it’s a guy) to
start naming those less prominent bureaucrats to run his government. These are
sub-cabinet level positions—the ambassadors, the head of the Fish and
Wildlife Service or the Census Bureau—and they don’t usually draw much
attention. The regulation overseer at the Office of Management and Budget might
appear to be a simple paper-shuffling job. But this year the nominee has caused
a genuine stir. It seems that for the first time, the regulation overseer may
know too much about statistics.

His name is John Graham. He runs the Harvard Center for Risk Analysis, which
has earned itself a big name in the business of assessing risk, and employs some
respected number crunchers. But the objections, particularly from environmental
groups, focus on where he gets his money. The CRA is funded largely by corporate
donations. Sometimes the studies that the CRA has done—on things like
chemical pollution and disease, for example—are paid for by industry
money. Graham also believes that saving one extra life from, say, air pollution
at a cost to society of $50 million may not be a good choice. If you want
to lower risk, he argues, build a better car seat belt, and then you can save a
life for 100 bucks. It’s called cost-benefit analysis, and lots of people hate
it.

Few have found fault with his statistics; it’s the way he uses them. But that
shouldn’t be a handicap to working in Washington.

THE space station has survived tourism. Space enthusiasts around the world
are galvanised, if somewhat less than enamoured of the grumps at NASA. Wannabe
space travellers with more money than they know what to do with are doing
sit-ups and riding exercise bikes in recreation rooms and spas. Space scientists
and astronomers feel more ignored than ever.

What’s happened is that the Russians—who quite definitely did not
invent theme parks, Hollywood and 24-hour shopping TV channels—have
finally commercialised space travel. And they did it at just about the same time
that President Bush announced that he wants to revive a missile defence system
operating in space. Go figure.