When a Humpback whale beached at the Baltic coast of Germany at March 23th, a public spectacle evolved that left many scientists and science communicators in stunned disbelief. Although scientists provided compelling evidence that any attempt to move the whale would be senseless, harmful for the animal, prolongating its suffering and, essentially constituting animal abuse, a coalition of helpers with partly disputable ideological backgrounds and no apparent expertise in biology did exactly that. They moved the whale and ‘freed’ it in the North Sea under the scrutiny of the media, with live tickers and picture-laden, emotional coverage.

They had the support of a regional minister of environment who took a detour from official scientific advice, decided the whale “wanted to live”, and claimed to have better facts that supported the rescue operation. The international press coverage raised eyebrows on Germany, which seemingly went bananas on the whale, and marine biologists were “shocked” by the rescue mission. After having beached again – this time dead – at the shores of the Kattegat island of Anholt in Denmark, the whale lay there as a putrefied warning sign of ignored scientific advice.  

What happened, and how could the situation with the whale have served as a good sandbox training ground for the more populist and authoritarian politics that are becoming increasingly prevalent around the globe –including in Germany? We dedicated a commentary set for the Journal of Science Communication to “science communication in changing political winds”, and in our own article, we diagnosed power plays as a skill science communicators might need to practice. 

Some of the ideas might help here: There is a strong consensus within the communication community that presenting facts alone is insufficient to generate an impact on audiences. Nevertheless, presenting facts is considered to be essential and good practice when science engages with politics. Yet the whale drama showed exactly how this kind of science communication just fizzles out without any notable effect on the actual actors (rescuers, politics, and media). Obviously, Germany was emotionally ready to identify with a dying animal. Witnessing a rescue scenario evokes strong emotions and is much more appealing to the media than leaving „Timmy“ to die alone on a sandbank. But there is more to it: a minister who justifies his chaperoning the rescue mission by pointing out that science “can fail – don’t we all fail?” – a framing that gives him carte blanche to devalue all scientific advice. Prioritizing emotion over facts, he framed ‘saving Timmy’ as an act of humanism, climate protection and a national symbol for Germany. And he was not alone in this: many spectators and activists in the rescue team prioritized compassion over science, attracting conspiracy theorists and activists from the German far right, who attack scientific expertise.

The whole spectacle shows that a power play is at work, involving the power to gain public attention and verbal or emotional support, as well as the power to assume and assign decision-making epistemic authority (i.e. who gets to decide what is fact and what not, and what should or shouldn’t be done based on these facts).

Communication always involves power: who speaks, who is heard and who is believed. All too often, science communicators assume a shared commitment to facts and a shared aspiration to ‘dialogue in good faith’. Today, this assumption is as fragile as ever: lying and “bullshitting” (indifference to truth) have become effective public strategies, and authoritarian populists weaponise them to reshape the social contract that once granted science epistemic authority. The result is not merely rhetorical unfairness but institutional harm—censored research agendas, defunded science, careers at risk in the US and, probably, also in Germany, considering the disastrous science agenda of German Far Right party AfD in the state of Saxony-Anhalt. This makes factfulness costly and often ignored. Therefore, science communication must stop acting as if informing is the central tenet of communication and instead recognise that it operates within strategic power games. It should identify the rules being played, who benefits from breaking them, and how incentives and venues might be redesigned so that listening becomes the rational move. This requires blending credibility, local alliances, restraint in moralising and institutional coalitions in order to change payoff structures – because when opponents reject the rules, preserving science requires strategy, not just truth-telling.

What does this mean for science communication intended for interaction and dialogue? In power-play environments, we should stop assuming that collaboration is the default. Audiences and rivals may not share the same epistemic or dialogic norms, so simply trying to “find common ground” is insufficient. Instead, communication should be treated as a strategic game  involving mapping the players, their incentives and the payoffs that drive behaviour – and planning actions that anticipate rival moves. This requires an understanding of not only what audiences believe, but also what competing senders will do: who will cooperate, who will defect, and especially, who will change the rules mid‑game, Trump-style. Using game-theoretic thinking can help us decide when to engage, when to withdraw, and when to set or enforce rules (e.g., controlled formats, vetted spokespeople, pre-agreed interview norms). It also helps to build coalitions and venues that change incentive structures so that listening becomes the rational choice and to design low-cost signals of credibility (transparent methods, diverse messengers) to reduce exploitative attacks. Finally, it is important to prepare rhetorical responses for actors who weaponise doubt, avoiding moralising, anticipating the misuse of content and ensuring that rapid rebuttals and institutional support are ready. In short, be strategic, not only factual. Know your communicative competitors and redesign the game so that truthfulness is rewarded.

Hence, when science communication gets into the hot waters of political interests and medial power plays, some ideas emerge. First, acknowledge power: epistemic authority is distributed, not inherent. If your message comes from a source that has already been labeled “elite,” it will be dismissed regardless of the evidence. And if your message does not meet emotional interests or political agendas, it will go unheard. Second, try to make your audience curious, rather than defensive. This requires rhetorical humility, local credibility, and tactical framing that avoids signals triggering ideological rejection. Third, treat interactions as strategic games. Opponents will act to preserve their influence, and allies will defect if the incentives change. Use simple game-theoretic thinking to map payoffs, likely moves, and leverage points – who can credibly endorse, what penalties or gains matter, and when to cooperate or signal retreat. Avoid maximalist public shaming or absolutist language that converts debates into zero-sum fights. Finally, build meta-institutions – coalitions, persistent venues, repeating interactions – that change the payoff structure so that cooperation on facts becomes rational.

In cases such as the beached whale “Timmy”, scientists and science communicators should collaborate across institutions and plan ahead. Take emotions seriously and address them in appropriate formats. Anticipate that many people are susceptible to anti-scientific sentiment and prepare accordingly. Expect populist agendas and prepare for interactions with actors such as politicians who have a strong and media-savvy presence. Interact with people on the hard questions: such as when it is more compassionate to let an animal die under palliative care. Take public affairs very seriously and offer advice to ministers and other public officials as a team with different areas of expertise (communication, marine biology etc.). And also take influencers seriously and interact with them. Give interviews in legacy media and beyond, and provide answers with regard to all emotions and concerns.

Admittedly, our proposal is uncomfortable: it asks communicators to play politics smartly while preserving integrity. It asks them to prioritise strategy and tactics in their communication. It strongly emphasizes that strategy is an integral part of science communication practice. But neutrality is a luxury when populism and authoritarianism weaponise doubt. If science wants to be influential, it must adopt a strategic approach to authority, designing games where listening, not dismissal, is the best move. Till the next whale beaches at the coast.

Guest contributions do not necessarily reflect the views of our editorial team. The editor responsible for this piece was Inga Dreyer.