Yesterday, I went to see Michael Crichton speak at the National Press Club. I was hoping he’d speak about his new book Next, which is a novel about the danger of being ill-prepared for advances in genetics. According to the New York Times, the book includes subplots about ethical missteps by autism researchers and the legal ramifications of the ‘thrill-seeking gene.’ Instead of directly discussing his book, Crichton, whose scientific qualifications include fictional works about cloned dinosaurs and evil monkeys, lectured about science policy and ethics.

It’s not that I didn’t agree with some of Crichton’s points. He discussed the folly of gene patents, the problems with peer review, the need for data replication and the importance of open access. He called on the media to publicize the limitations in scientific studies and suggested that the government should police the release and replication of data.

What I resented was that he presented himself as a lone watchdog in a world in which scientists have taken advantage of the public. He’s right that truth has become a casualty in our society. But there’s something wrong when the public relies on a fiction writer to inform them of the truth.