In late 2019, the virus behind the COVID-19 pandemic began its devastating sweep across the world. Years later, scientists remain divided over how it originated.
Many believe that SARS-CoV2 likely emerged in animals and was transmitted to humans, possibly through the wildlife trade linked to a wet market in Wuhan, China. Others argue that a laboratory accident remains plausible, pointing to research conducted at the Wuhan Institute of Virology, where virologist Shi Zhengli led work on bat coronaviruses.
In 2022, Beijing-based independent journalist Jane Qiu reported a detailed story for MIT Technology Review on Shi’s work and its alleged connections to the outbreak. During her reporting, Qiu noted that the controversy surrounding Shi had erupted amid a long-standing debate over how viral research should be regulated. Many virologists were increasingly concerned—the simmering lab leak hypothesis could lead to stricter regulations and make potentially life-saving research more expensive. On the other side, the controversy gave biosafety experts—who have long pushed for stronger supervision over viral research globally—a chance to advance their own cause. People on both sides of the debate had their own vested interests. “I think that kind of vested interest needs to be taken into consideration when we [journalists] cover scientific controversies,” says Qiu.
Science is filled with small disagreements, but some contentions can cause deep rifts within the scientific community or even enter popular discourse. Unlike manufactured “debates” based on false claims or pseudoscience (e.g., trying to link vaccines and autism), true scientific debates may be driven by researchers passionately disagreeing over the best solution to a problem, the validity of a finding, or how to interpret a line of evidence. Some may emerge around high-profile questions, such as what triggered the dinosaurs’ demise millions of years ago. Others are fueled by the high stakes of the outcome, such as the origin of COVID-19. Still others persist due to the sheer complexity of the underlying science, such as cosmology or quantum theory.
For a writer, covering this type of story requires presenting the various scientific viewpoints fairly and explaining not just what the debate is about, but why it matters. Exploring a debate can reveal how human forces shape the nature of science—a messy process of evidence, argument, uncertainty, and revision. When tensions run high, these stories can be filled with drama and intrigue. Amid the disagreement, a writer’s analysis offers crucial context that helps readers understand and appreciate the complexity. “When we have an ocean of information with diverse points of view,” Qiu says, “I think it’s really important to go beyond what scientists tell us.”
Setting the Stage
When covering a contentious topic, Berlin-based freelance science journalist Katarina Zimmer believes that the debate should be made clear right at the start of the story, in the headline, dek, or—at the very latest—in the nutgraf. “I think we really owe it to our readers to explain upfront what they’re getting into,” she says.
After introducing a controversy, Science staff editor Michael Greshko recommends giving its broader context in the first few paragraphs. In 2019, for National Geographic, Greshko covered two papers that examined the timing of eruptions from a massive volcano complex in present-day India and their potential role in the dinosaurs’ mass extinction. Despite agreeing on a general order of events, the authors of the two papers disagreed about the precise timing of the majority of the eruptions—before or after the asteroid impact—which is key to establishing their role.
“By the first subhead, I’ve summarized the consensus view … where the two studies agree. In doing so, I’ve introduced the two teams. And then I end the section on where there is the most substantial disagreement, and what the implications of that disagreement are,” Greshko says. “Everything that follows can be fit into the framework I gave them in the first six grafs.”
When a debate is very polarized, neutral voices offer balance and perspective.
Building a story around rich scenes can also help set the stage for opposing arguments and pull readers deeper into the narrative aspects of the disagreement, says freelance journalist and writer Bianca Bosker. Bosker also tackled the dinosaur debate in a 2018 feature for The Atlantic, for which she traveled to India with Gerta Keller, a Princeton University geologist and paleontologist who believes the eruptions played a key role in the extinction. In the Deccan Plateau, Bosker vividly described for readers the rocks that serve as the literal foundation of Keller’s argument. In one scene, she related where the geologists stood among the rocks to the passage of geological time. “That, to me, helps make it a little more evocative and concrete for the readers,” Bosker says.
To lay out the substance of a debate’s viewpoints, writers have many options. One way is to follow the chronology of how various events and discoveries unfolded over time. “Here’s how this thing started, here’s how it evolved, and here’s where it is now,” explains Leah Crane, a senior reporter for New Scientist who focuses on space and physics. In a 2025 story, she used this approach to tackle one of her favorite debates: the long-running kerfuffle among cosmologists over how fast the universe is expanding. At the heart of the debate is the Hubble constant, for which physicists using different methods have arrived at two competing values. Simply listing the arguments for each could make the disagreement feel like two parallel monologues. Instead, Crane wrote the story chronologically to help tease out how the two constants relate to each other and why the groups reached different conclusions.
A debate that involves more than two camps, however, can be harder to follow through time. In her 2025 story for Quanta Magazine on why ice is slippery, Warsaw-based science writer Paulina Rowińska first tried explaining how, over multiple decades, scientists came up with a variety of different theories to explain why the surface of ice melts. But her editor found the draft confusing.
In revision, Rowińska reorganized the story, focusing on the differences between the ideas rather than the timeline. Under separate subheadings, she explained the three classical explanations of melting: pressure, frictional heat, and a pre-existing thin, liquid-like layer. This structure allowed for clearer comparisons between the theories to show shifts in understanding over time. Rowińska then contrasted them with the newest hypothesis: that sliding disrupts the ice’s ordered structure, creating an amorphous, “soft” layer that makes it slippery.
Cast of Characters
In some cases, the personalities involved may be key to understanding a scientific standoff. This is how physics staff writer Charlie Wood approached a 2025 story about quantum debates for Quanta Magazine. For this story, Wood traveled to Helgoland, a small German archipelago in the North Sea, to cover a conference of physicists celebrating 100 years of quantum mechanics.
Quantum theory is all about probabilities. It can very precisely predict how a subatomic particle (such as an electron or a proton) might behave—but it cannot predict with certainty what a given measurement will observe. And although the theory works well at the scale of particles, quantum effects for large, everyday objects are essentially undetectable. As Wood observed firsthand, physicists are still quarreling over the conceptual implications of the mathematics and what quantum mechanics says about the nature of reality.
Since a journalist’s judgment is shaped in part by their subjective perspectives, they should be acutely aware of their biases and keep them in check.
Instead of hashing out the nitty-gritty details of the various theories, Wood and his editor decided to focus on the people driving the debate. “In my mind, people fall into two categories,” Wood says. “They either know what the answer is and they’re passionate about it and they’re arguing for why their perspective is the best and most logical, … or they don’t know—they’re unsatisfied with any of the answers on the table and they’re looking for new answers.” In the latter half of his article, Wood describes some of the theories based on which camp holds them: “Those Who Know” or “Those Who Don’t Know.”
When a debate is very polarized, neutral voices offer balance and perspective, says Zimmer. These might be researchers who have collaborated with people on both sides of the debate, or scientists following the discussion without being directly involved. In 2022, she covered contention over the effects of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster on nearby wildlife for Knowable Magazine. Sources who were not part of the research helped her understand why the problem is so challenging to address and how different groups could have reached conflicting conclusions. A main reason the question remains unresolved, she learned, is that figuring out how different species react to chronic, low-level radiation—such as that present at the site—is tricky. “At the heart of the debate is not so much whether chronic radiation has any effect on living things, but at what dose the effects become significant,” she writes at the start of her story.
The Role of the Writer
When scientists disagree, their competing ideas can drive the formation of opposing camps. Journalists, too, may find themselves personally more inclined toward one side or another. But journalists covering controversies must be careful not to selectively present evidence that fits a particular narrative, Qiu says.
When Viviane Callier reported a 2022 story for Knowable Magazine on the debate over the evolution of the first eukaryotic cells (those with a nucleus), she found herself more convinced by one side’s argument than the other. “But I still wanted to present both of them as strongly as each could be represented, and then also allow each one to poke holes in the other [theory],” she says. In the story, Callier was careful to give equal weight to both sides of the debate, explaining the flaws and merits of each. When doing so, however, a reporter should assess the credibility of the evidence on each side to avoid creating false balance or perpetuating misinformation.
The biggest takeaway from a story about a scientific debate may be less about which view prevails and more about the controversy itself and why it persists.
Because a journalist’s judgment is shaped in part by their subjective perspectives, Qiu says, they should be acutely aware of their biases and keep them in check. The geopolitical tensions between the U.S. and China surrounding COVID-19’s origin led Qiu, who is Chinese, to question her own objectivity while covering this highly controversial debate. She believes the animal-origin hypothesis seems much more likely but is critical of scientists who completely dismiss the possibility of a lab leak, arguing that we still don’t know for sure. “Even now, when I cover less controversial topics … I constantly ask myself: Do I believe it because I want to believe it … or do I put more weight onto it because it’s more in line with my own pet theory and my own politics?” Qiu says. “Do I believe it more because the source is a big shot?” By questioning her own inclinations at every step, she tries to not let them affect her judgment.
At the same time, though, the writer can offer valuable context and a critical voice of authority based on their reporting and perspective. “If we just turn these stories into cavalcades of talking heads being like, ‘I think X, I think Y, we disagree,’ then the reader does not walk away with any deeper understanding,” Greshko says. When reading about a scientific disagreement, readers need enough guidance to make sense of contradictory claims and fully understand why a debate exists and what it means.
By examining the vested interests of her sources, Qiu’s COVID-19 coverage helps readers appreciate that this issue, though rooted in science, is also heavily colored and shaped by history and sociopolitical context. Exploring how these external factors intersect with the science and critically examining the underlying evidence on both sides can give readers a broader picture of how and why the debate is unfolding.
The Never-ending Story
Stories about ongoing, unresolved issues can defy satisfying endings with everything neatly wrapped up. In some cases, Crane believes, writers must live with an open ending. “Sometimes you end it on a sort of ‘gaze into the future and see what it’ll be like,’” she says.
“Honestly, I feel like not having a resolution here is kind of part of the story,” Rowińska says about ice’s mysterious slickness. “So, it seems like the case is not closed.”
The biggest takeaway from a story about a scientific debate may be less about which view prevails and more about the controversy itself and why it persists. Qiu suggests stressing the stakes and importance of the issue or exploring what the controversy says about the state of science and how it is conducted. Stories in which there’s a struggle to find an answer are inherently more interesting than ones that have a clear resolution, she says.
Ultimately, it’s this struggle that causes a small scientific squabble to build into a full-fledged debate. Closing with a glimpse of how the tension is still shaping the field may keep people hooked in and eager for the next chapter. After all, the best dramas—whether on a stage or a screen—linger with their audience for a long time. “An ending that makes people want to know more and makes people care about this problem, I think that is a fine ending,” says Crane. “An ending that says, stay curious about this.”
Rohini Subrahmanyam is a freelance science journalist mostly covering the life sciences, with bylines in Scientific American, Science News, Knowable, Nautilus, and others. She is also a science writer at the Indian Institute of Science, Bangalore. She has a PhD in biology and postdoctoral experience in developmental biology. Rohini is a TON early-career fellow sponsored by the Burroughs Wellcome Fund. Find Rohini on LinkedIn.