Is Science Journalism Really on the Brink? A Look Back and Forward

When two of the roughly seventeen popular‑science magazines in the United States folded in the same year, a senior editor muttered that the publications didn’t just "shake out" – they simply fell apart. The general manager of one of those titles added, "There was a perception they were irrelevant," while a former publisher described the aftermath as a "state of shock." That was 1986, a year that many in the trade later labeled the start of a "science crash" after a brief, buoyant boom.

Fast‑forward 40 years, and the same lament is echoing through newsroom corridors. In June 2026, Scientific American changed hands, and the new owners promptly trimmed the staff, letting go of fifteen reporters and slashing salaries elsewhere. Earlier this year, The Washington Post, The Wall Street Journal, NPR and CBS News all announced cuts to their science and environment desks. A veteran science writer confessed he felt he was penning a eulogy for his own profession; another warned we are now living in a "greatly diminished journalistic enterprise".

So, are we witnessing a new, more permanent decline, or simply another wave of anxiety that follows every disruption in the media? The answer, unsurprisingly, is a little of both.

The moral panic of the 1980s

Scientists have been griping about media coverage for more than a century – they claim it’s often shallow, sometimes downright wrong. Even after decades of better‑trained science reporters and an explosion of dedicated programs, research institutions still demand more coverage, better coverage. What remains murkier is whether the general public actually wants more science, especially when it’s not packaged by a celebrity like Carl Sagan in the 1980s or today’s YouTube star‑engineer Mark Rober.

Back in 1987, media scholar Bruce Lewenstein examined the so‑called "science crash" and concluded that an audience definitely existed, just not the massive one some publishers had hoped for. He argued that the panic was partly a moral one – a real worry that got amplified by industry insiders who liked to sound urgent.

Despite the headlines, science journalism survived the 1990s. New training programmes emerged, fresh outlets appeared, and the nascent internet offered novel ways to tell stories about atoms and black holes alike.

What the numbers say today

Fast forward again, and my colleague Chris Mooney has been updating Bruce’s old analysis with fresh data. The picture isn’t entirely rosy. Of the twenty‑nine major popular‑science magazines launched in the U.S. since the 1800s, only eleven still publish in any form, and eight of those closures occurred after the year 2000.

That statistic, however, comes with important caveats. It counts only print titles that cover a broad swath of science for a general audience – it leaves out niche, field‑specific journals, alumni newsletters and many membership magazines. Still, the trend is hard to ignore.

Take Popular Science, for instance. Its lineage stretches back to the Popular Science Monthly of 1872, and in 2011 it still boasted over a million copies per month. Within a few years, the print edition slipped to bimonthly, then quarterly, and finally vanished altogether in 2021. The brand lives on online and via two podcasts, but the print loss is emblematic.

National Geographic isn’t immune either. In 2023 the magazine announced layoffs of several staff writers and stopped its monthly newsstand sales, though the glossy print edition continues. And the most iconic of them all, Scientific American, was sold in June 2026 and immediately downsized.

Seeing three venerable institutions all grapple with similar cuts does feel like a symptom of something deeper than mere bad luck.

It’s not just science – it’s journalism

To understand the situation, we have to widen the lens. The entire journalism ecosystem is in flux. Print newspapers have fared worse than magazines: between 2000 and 2025, U.S. newspaper jobs shrank by roughly 80 %, while periodical publishing lost about 65 % of its workforce, according to Bureau of Labor Statistics data. Advertising dollars have migrated online, younger audiences prefer bite‑size digital feeds, and the economics of the newsroom have become increasingly precarious.

And the pressure isn’t purely economic. Political forces – from heightened partisanship to outright attacks on the press – intersect with market woes, creating a perfect storm for specialized beats like science and the environment.

Yet, amidst the gloom, there are signs of resilience. Digital‑first outlets, podcasts, YouTube channels and newsletters are reaching audiences that once bought a glossy. Independent science journalists are crowdfunding, and collaborations between universities and media organisations are sprouting.

So, is science journalism dying? Not exactly. It’s transforming, often painfully, as the old models crumble. The panic that echoed in 1986 has resurfaced, but the context has shifted – from a declining print market to a digital landscape that rewards speed, engagement and, sometimes, sensationalism.

What matters now is whether the field can adapt without losing its core values: rigor, curiosity and the ability to translate complex research into stories that matter to everyday readers. If we can nurture that adaptability, the "crash" might just be a rough landing, not a final descent.