Dear Rector, distinguished guests,
As the philosopher Schopenhauer once remarked, one should use common words to say uncommon things.
It is with great joy and humility, standing on the shoulders of giants, that I now join the prestigious ranks of past J.V. Snellman Award winners. This award comes to me in a time I never envisioned, as fear and distrust cloud our future prospects, and the language of war increasingly shapes how we interact. At the same time, our shared values of truth, Bildung, freedom and inclusivity are being undermined by an egocentric worldview and power politics. We are all participants in a global empirical experiment seeking the highest economic profit at the expense of ecological and social sustainability. Right now, we need common words to discuss values that have suddenly become uncommon.
The first question to consider is whose language we are using.
My own field of science, human nutrition, has a multidisciplinary scientific foundation and largely produces scholarly evidence within interdisciplinary groups. It is thus necessary even during research to embrace the idea that language can be interpreted variously, as the same terms may vary in meaning across disciplines. In the Helsinki Term Bank for the Arts and Sciences is a set we created, of nutrition terminology among the bank's 60 disciplines, which illustrates the varied meanings of language. Our terminology indicates, for example, that experts discourage the use by journalists of common Finnish terms for obesity and junk food.
In the academic community, English is the primary language of communication. But is English enough if we wish to break down barriers between the academic and wider communities? My research group typically focuses on children, families or those on the lowest rungs of the social ladder. We must speak their language. When communicating our research results to Ukrainian refugee families, we use Ukrainian. Strengthening first language skills through science communication supports the identities, emotional skills and Finnish language learning of children and adults alike. And science communication can be pitched to children to match their cognitive development. The verbal antics and vivid adjectives removed from specialist language can be repurposed for a children's non-fiction narrative. Our book series Kestokamut ('Sustainability Squad') uses rap lyrics to spread the message of sustainable eating: "Hey, this planet's in need, we got words to heed."
The appeal of nutrition science lies in its practical applications. While each of us eats to live, our food choices express not only our resources of knowledge, skills, time and finances, but also our values, attitudes and emotions. This is why research findings in nutrition science often touch on deeper issues, triggering emotional reactions. In popularising nutrition science, extensive research evidence intersects with personal experience, both of which being equally valid for all involved. But individual experience is not enough to justify population-level recommendations. For individuals, risks and probabilities are abstract concepts projected into the future while living in the present. Due to the self-correcting nature of science, research knowledge can be seen as inherently uncertain, and expertise as an exercise of power.
For key stakeholders, including schools, the third sector, companies and public services, the most effective approach would be to integrate research evidence directly into practices, products and tools. One example would be to provide food service suppliers with more plant-based and environmentally friendly recipes. It is important to challenge communication methods that generate health inequalities. These start even before birth if information on nutrition during pregnancy and breastfeeding is unavailable through public channels in a language parents understand. What is most effective for decision-makers is clear, simple language, concrete proposals and, most importantly, evidence of cost impacts. Nevertheless, research knowledge or evidence-driven proposals may be rejected for contradicting the prevailing political ideology. It is challenging to popularise scientific approaches and explain differences in the strength of evidence, and frustrating to constantly defend the reliability of peer-reviewed research. But it is this very willingness to face criticism openly that sets us apart from pseudoscientists; and ultimately, the self-correcting nature of science will address any weaknesses in our message.
The second question we must address is whose voice we are amplifying, whose visibility we are increasing, through our messages. Are our clever and cutting comments mainly intended to boost our own egos on social media? We academics are not exempt from this ourselves. Almost without fail, scholarly work is about collaboration more than individual achievement, even in the highest-ranked units and among top scholars. The most valuable asset for researchers is the data that subjects entrust us with interpreting.
My research group strives to amplify the voices of children and other vulnerable groups, highlighting inequalities in what we eat. Significant disruptions from war and weather phenomena have driven up the cost of living in Finland. Even individuals with steady jobs are experiencing severe food insecurity. Cuts to social security are predicted to further increase poverty in families with children. Inequality is apparent on children's plates especially in terms of food quality, which is strongly associated with parental education, income, residential area and family size. We are working on a documentary film on this topic in our project Aamiainen ('Breakfast'), which combines science and art.
In their book Sivistyksen puolustus ('Defence of Bildung'), Professors Sari Kivistö and Sami Pihlström state that the elite's lack of engagement with the perspective of the people creates space for populism to rise. This is exactly why multi-voiced discussions must include those who perceive themselves as being outside the elite. Encountering the 'other' broadens our perspective. As the author Rakel Liehu writes in her book Helene: "It's through the stories of others that I learn. Every word spoken by another shifts a phrase within you. It changes your position in space." Though often translated into English as 'education', Bildung is a broad concept emphasising moral and ethical growth alongside academic learning. It is a challenging intellectual and ethical process that fundamentally depends on two-way communication. Recently, however, the trend has shifted towards one-sided communication, and we are losing our ability to listen. Here we should look to children for guidance. They live in a bright, open world, always ready to discover and learn, not speculating on why others act the way they do but letting them explain their intentions. On their lifelong journey towards self-regulation skills, children need guidance from adults. The wise owl of the brain's frontal lobe can be trained to suppress the yapping dog of the amygdala, that is, to temper our quick, impulsive and emotional reactions. When facing challenges, ask yourself: Is the wise owl steering my actions, or is the yapping dog of my instincts taking over? In the fast-paced and often anonymous world of social media, we can easily lose sight of the power of language to hurt. When caught in a negative cycle, the key is to breathe calmly and clear your mind before responding. Your response should be solution-oriented, not driven by anger or a desire for revenge. This is not easy for verbally skilled academics, equally capable of wielding language unkindly. But using our capacity thus would be a terrible waste.
Presently, we can choose which voices to elevate and the tone of our own communication. We must not allow fear and anti-science sentiment to dampen our passion for independent research and public engagement. Passivity and silence can send messages of their own and lead to gaps in information and communication. If only the extremes are speaking out, the world will seem overly polarised. Today, the loudest voices advocating for truth, Bildung, freedom and inclusivity are young people, deeply concerned about the present and their future. We are leaving future generations with a world in chaos, yet are annoyed when young people try to rouse us by protesting and blocking streets. The key responsibilities of adults in the lives of children and adolescents are to shape a better future and instil hope. We must remind them daily of the goodness in people and the beauty in our world - a world where the greatest beauty can often be found in not only nature, but children and adolescents themselves, in their optimism, loyalty and forgiveness.
It is with immense gratitude that I accept the J.V. Snellman Award, which recognises the importance of our duty of public engagement. Things in this world intensify before fading in time. The author and translator Eila Pennanen published only one book of poetry, the 1970 collection entitled Kiitos harhaluuloista ('Thank You for These Illusions'). I end my speech with the following lines, translated by Anne Fried, which have acquired fresh poignancy 55 years after the book's release.
Mankind has hope.
Water and earth can still be purified,
and once again air will be good for breathing,
when they will stop producing poisons and armaments;
once more we'll rest under the shady trees,
read poems
listen to the voice of Socrates.
And new emotions rise,
new sensitivities.
Fantasy, are you still living?
Out of the depth of my naivety I call to you.
