Bridging research and practice

A stone. The very embodiment of lifeless matter. At least, that’s how many people would see it. But some stones are packed with life stories. Like the basalt lava rocks of Iceland’s Westfjords. They tell a story about the power of nature, the people who stand up to it, and climate change: Basalt rock shaped the steep mountains of the Westfjords, where snow accumulates and avalanches form. At the same time, the island’s inhabitants use this basalt to build protective barriers against avalanches. As temperatures rise, the avalanches become less predictable – and the barriers grow higher, reaching 10 metres or more.

It is stories like this that Benjamin Hofmann and his wife Elisa have collected and shared with a wider audience – he as a researcher, she as an illustrator (see the online exhibition here). With the help of a grant, they were able to spend four weeks in the Westfjords. It was a small project that did not reflect Hofmann’s core expertise as a researcher. Nevertheless, it perfectly encapsulates something that is particularly important to him: transdisciplinarity. “Interdisciplinarity involves different disciplines coming together in an effort to combine their knowledge,” explains Hofmann. “It only becomes transdisciplinary when knowledge from outside is brought in as well – local knowledge and the practical expertise of societal stakeholders.” The aim is to define problems together and develop possible solutions. And that is exactly what the couple did in Iceland. They asked local residents which objects made the environmental changes most visible to them – basalt rock was one; the invasive Atlantic rock crab was another. Originally from North America, the crab reached Iceland via ships’ ballast water and is now spreading in the country’s increasingly warm waters, putting pressure on native species. Researchers are currently working with local fishers to explore the crab’s commercial potential. “That’s one way of dealing with invasive species,” says Hofmann with a wry smile.

“I’ve always been interested in politics, although I can’t pinpoint exactly where that comes from.”

Thinking back, Hofmann says he first became interested in the political and social impact of science in his youth. He was born in 1987 in Dresden, where he also grew up. Just two years before the fall of the Berlin Wall, this was a time of great upheaval and civil disobedience. The GDR was almost a thing of the past by then, but it still shaped his generation. “I’ve always been interested in politics, although I can’t pinpoint exactly where that comes from,” he says. His interest grew during his civilian service on the North Sea coast, where an EU bird sanctuary was being planned at the time. One thing that made a strong impression on him there, besides the natural surroundings, was the public uproar: “I saw farmers gearing up to oppose the initiative. I found it fascinating,” he says. One landscape, two perspectives: bird conservationists on the one side, farmers on the other. It was during this period that he decided to study political science. Nearly two decades later, in the Westfjords, he found himself grappling with the same question again: who gets to define what something means, and is there really such a thing as one “right” perspective? One Icelander pushed back against the way many tourists see her home as one “vast wilderness”: “People live here. If you’re looking for real wilderness, head across the fjord. No one lives there – it’s a nature reserve.”

It is experiences like these that have made Hofmann the researcher he is today. His career took him from a doctorate at the University of St.Gallen and a postdoc at the aquatic research institute Eawag to ETH Zurich’s TdLab, where he now leads a research group. His current research focuses on climate change adaptation and how scientific knowledge can be combined with local knowledge. One example is a course in Surselva, in the canton of Graubünden, where he collaborates with Zurich University of the Arts (ZHdK) on a transdisciplinary case study. As part of this, ZHdK students accompanied ETH students to interviews with local foresters. While the ZHdK students used photography to document the work carried out in forests, the ETH group asked the foresters about forest management. The photographs were then incorporated into the ETH students’ final presentation. “The result was very inspiring,” says Hofmann. But collaborations like this one are not equally successful everywhere – a lot depends on how open the participants are to each other’s approach.

More broadly, Hofmann continues to face some obstacles. Despite his successes, he is still fighting for transdisciplinary approaches to be recognised in his field. When applying for research funding, you repeatedly encounter reviewers “who simply don’t see the value of this transdisciplinary approach – or don’t want to see it,” he says. And matters are made even more difficult by further budget cuts.

“I think we should remain bold – or be even bolder – when it comes to addressing the problems that young people in particular face in the academic system.”

That is why he is also committed to supporting the next generation. He joined the Swiss Young Academy in 2023, keen to exchange ideas with other young researchers and initiate collaborations beyond their day-to-day work. Teaching has been a key focus for him from the outset: “Teaching is something I’ve always really enjoyed.” Together with like-minded colleagues, he launched the project Innovative Science-Society Teaching, which is now in its second cycle. In the first cycle, the team mapped the ways in which various Swiss universities are already connecting students with societal stakeholders. These range from arts-based formats and service learning, where students work towards a social goal, to the co-production of knowledge with practitioners. Specific examples from Switzerland’s different language regions, along with a typology for comparing the courses, were published by the Swiss Academies of Arts and Sciences. The discussions with lecturers also highlighted the limitations: “These formats often involve a lot of work and require financial resources. And they often span different degree programmes, which can quickly create administrative hurdles,” says Hofmann.

The second cycle is focused on practical implementation. The aim is to develop a toolbox for lecturers in collaboration with the Swiss Academies of Arts and Sciences’ Network for Transdisciplinary Research (td-net), which already maintains a similar collection for researchers. Around 40 lecturers from across Switzerland recently took part in a workshop on the toolbox. One key insight was that some formats can be easily made into standalone tools. With others, even the lecturers themselves are often unclear about what their own format actually consists of. The workshop helped clarify exactly that: what does a lecturer from a completely different discipline need in order to use the same tool? The team will now launch an open call for submissions (see here). A panel will select the contributions and help to further refine the tools, and an online toolbox will be developed at the same time. “If we are serious about transdisciplinary research, we should also train our students in it,” emphasises Hofmann. But what is ultimately still lacking is institutional recognition: innovative formats that combine teaching and practice require time and funding – resources that many Swiss universities have barely factored in so far. Hofmann wants to tackle this issue next.

And what would he like to see from the Swiss Young Academy? On matters of teaching or at the interface between science and policy, he believes the organisation should become a driving force. But not only that: “I think we should remain bold – or be even bolder – when it comes to addressing the problems that young people in particular face in the academic system.”