Today we had a discussion on how our storytelling shapes our research. Basically, one crucial part of our work is to wrap it into a narrative so that we can share it. This can be when writing for getting funding (grants), when doing it for presenting our research (papers, conference talks, posters, etc.) and of course also when presenting it to the general public (outrage). And the most obvious or effective way we do it is through story telling. But of course, we are not all good writers or narrator (I certainly am not) and we all use unconscious tropes to tell these stories. This had not only implications for how we present our research but also in turns influence how we do our research. Our narrative preferences — shaped by cultural attitudes, psychological predispositions, and deeply ingrained storytelling templates — profoundly influence what we choose to study and how we interpret scientific discoveries.

The Underdog Syndrome and Research Bias

We started discussing this excellent blog post on “the age of dinosaurs”. Basically, our collective imagination gravitates towards massive, dominant creatures, inadvertently creating a research feedback loop. Culturally, we’re drawn to stories about the big, the dramatic, and “apex” things in any ecosystem. This means smaller species, or juveniles, and less spectacular species often remain unstudied and underappreciated. This bias isn’t just about dinosaurs. It reflects a broader human tendency to define “success” through narrow, hierarchical lenses. Success becomes about predation, geographical dominance, and persistence over geological time. But what about the rare, the exotic, the seemingly mundane?

The Storytelling Template: From Nature Documentaries to Grant Writing

We have a remarkably consistent storytelling recipe: the vulnerable baby, the struggling mother, the dramatic survival narrative. This template permeates everything from nature documentaries to scientific grant proposals. It’s a comfortable narrative arc that promises tension, struggle, and ultimate triumph. But this approach has limitations. By continually focusing on charismatic megafauna or dramatic evolutionary “winners”, we risk overlooking nuanced ecological interactions and the complex stories of species that don’t fit our heroic narrative.

Breaking Free from Hierarchical Thinking

Our scientific storytelling still echoes antiquated concepts like the Scala Naturae — a hierarchical view of nature where everything is neatly arranged from “primitive” to “advanced”. Even our phylogenetic charts and food web representations subtly reinforce these hierarchies, often positioning humans or apex predators at the pinnacle. This perspective is increasingly recognized as reductive. Evolution isn’t a ladder but a complex, branching network. Sometimes, as with sharks, not evolving is a successful strategy. “Living fossils” aren’t failures; they’re remarkable examples of evolutionary stability.

A New Approach to Scientific Storytelling

Instead of relying on familiar narrative tricks, we could:

1. Center scientific questions as characters
2. Focus on ecological interconnectedness
3. Celebrate diversity over dominance
4. Highlight the extraordinary in the seemingly ordinary

This requires more nuanced, skilled storytelling. It demands we move beyond clichés and recognize that every organism, every ecological interaction, has a compelling story—if we’re willing to listen. Our scientific narratives are never purely objective. They’re colored by cultural attitudes, psychological preferences, and storytelling conventions. Recognizing these biases is the first step toward more inclusive, comprehensive scientific understanding. The most exciting discoveries might just lie in the margins of our current narratives—waiting for a fresh perspective.