Before the Covid-19 lockdown, when travel to international conferences was still a regular feature of academic life, I was one of those people you would overhear in the row in front of you, asking their fellow travellers in a very worried voice, and ideally just before take-off, what keeps the aeroplane - which I would point out to them is very heavy and made of metal - up in the air.

You would probably smile as my fellow passengers tried to calm my nerves (I am very practised at pretending to be a scared traveller on my first flight, and have this routine off pat) by telling me, as if I were an anxious child, that the wings will keep us up.

I would pause, as if reassured, and then ask if the wings were also heavy and made of metal. Then, when they nod assent, I would ask whether, if the wings were cut off mid flight, they, too, would - like all metal objects that I have ever seen - fall to the ground.

At this point, you would probably see the beginning of uncertainty appear on their faces as they realise that they are thinking about something that has never even occurred to them before.

Of course, unlike you, they are among the majority of people who are unfamiliar with Bernoulli and Newton, and who also think, drawing on everyday analogies, that the reason it is hotter in the summer than the winter is because the Earth must move closer to the sun (or maybe that the sun moves nearer the Earth).

They are also, like many people, similarly convinced that an ice cube floating and melting in a glass of water will cause the liquid level to rise, and that plants take up all the food they need to grow (not just nutrients and water) through their roots.

(Interestingly, when I enquire why there are therefore no large depressions in the ground around the trunks of trees, as those trees have taken up so many tons of soil to enable them to grow, they often admit to not having considered that implication before. They then tentatively ask if it has anything to do with a range of things, including bird droppings, falling leaves or worms, as clearly something must be filling in the hole that they acknowledge would otherwise necessarily have to be there.)

Notwithstanding those widely shared misconceptions, my fellow passengers are generally happy, contented and productive members of society. Indeed, their lives seem none the poorer - at least, not in a sense that measurably affects their quality of life - as a consequence of their lack of a broad level of scientific literacy.

Moreover, I would suggest that, within a technological society such as ours, passengers on the Clapham omnibus - or on a Boeing 747 - can be effective users of technology without needing, or in many cases even desiring, to be scientifically literate.

Firm advocate

Having been a physics teacher, I am passionate about school science, and a firm advocate for teaching biology, chemistry and physics to those students wanting to pursue one or more of those subjects at A level (and hopefully beyond). But I know this passion for science is not always widely shared.

In my current role as an academic, researching and writing about scientific literacy, the dominating presence of Covid-19 over the past year has sharpened many of my long-term questions.

As terms such as “virus” and “vaccine” have entered into everyday usage, I have found myself increasingly interested in what level of scientific literacy we might hope - and reasonably expect - students to achieve during their time in compulsory science education, and how this might equip them for life in a scientific and technological society.

While many within the education system and beyond are of the belief that all children should be required to study science for GCSE, there is very little empirical research evidence to support claims as to the effectiveness or value of doing so, especially given the cost of delivering compulsory science.

The idea that scientific method - a method that surely relies on research evidence rather than personal belief or opinion - is not needed to substantiate this widespread belief seems strangely at odds with the scientific method it is designed to promote.

So, rather than trying to forcibly inculcate a level of scientific literacy in the general population, a more focused, functional scientific literacy should be developed and evaluated in schools.

Such an approach might focus primarily - although not exclusively - on those areas of science that relate directly to human biology and health.

This makes sense given that, for example, the level of obesity and the associated risk of type 2 diabetes is rising among primary-school pupils in England, despite the fact that the parents of most of those children were required to study science until the age of 16.

While numerous factors might be seen to contribute to obesity, it is certainly worth noting that the figures do, at the very least, suggest a widespread absence of scientifically informed dietary choices.

Similarly, even though it is currently almost impossible to read a paper or listen to the news without coming across mention of Covid-19, the vast majority of people I have asked - and most of them had studied science until the age of 16 - have little, if any, clear scientific understanding of what a virus actually is.

They are vague as to its size, how it replicates and its lifespan. Their understanding can, in general, be summarised as something along the lines of: “It’s a little thing like a germ, which can kill you.”

I would add - and I have tried this - that asking for more information on the nature of “germs” tends to result in statements that also involve descriptors such as “little” and “bacteria”. And, yes, you probably expected this - asking about the nature of bacteria either takes you straight back to germs or, currently, back to viruses.

This lack of knowledge also extends to the nature of a vaccine: how it works when injected into you and how its safety, in terms of possible side effects, has been evaluated.

Yet, despite this clear lack of any detailed scientific knowledge about the nature of a virus or a vaccine, many people are willing (thankfully) to be vaccinated.

That willingness reflects a key feature of living in a scientifically and technologically advanced society: we have no real alternative other than to rely on experts - including those developing vaccines against Covid-19.

No one can have sufficient depth of conceptual knowledge across all scientific topics to be able to make rational, scientifically informed decisions on the basis of the relevant evidence in every area.

It is at the point when I question the need for shallow widespread scientific literacy that some people like to ask me if I have forgotten that technology is the product of scientific research, and that, without scientists, there would be no technology for us, as members of society, to use.

My response is not to deny that highly qualified scientists are needed to meet the needs of science-based industries and to drive the development of new technologies in what is, undeniably, a highly competitive global economy. However, what I question is whether these industries require students who leave school at 16 with a benchmark GCSE qualification in science. Do they not, instead, require highly qualified scientists - those leaving university with degrees in science subjects?

I also point out the inexplicable lack of a robust body of research evidence to show that GCSE science provides industries with employees with essential levels of usable scientific knowledge and skills, without which those industries would be unable to function. While I acknowledge that science-based industries would not be able to function without science graduates and postgraduates, what is less clear to me is whether those companies would be similarly unable to function if, for example, their HR manager, their security officer or their chief executive’s personal assistant did not have a GCSE in a science subject?

Entry requirements

While we’re on the topic of entry requirements, we might also wonder why we require primary-school teachers to have GCSE science even though there appears to have been almost no research to ascertain whether they actually use it when teaching.

Similarly, we might ask how those same primary teachers manage to successfully teach geography, history or music if they lack GCSEs in those subjects.

The desire among some within the educational community for a form of widespread scientific literacy - such as would enable the average individual, who currently drops science at the age of 16, to make rational, scientifically based choices about a broad range of socioscientific issues - is, I suggest, unnecessary and unrealistic.

Indeed, any attempt to develop widespread scientific literacy without a corresponding development of scientific subject knowledge leads simply to a form of pseudoscientific literacy that is all but indistinguishable from personal belief.

I’m not advocating the abandonment of teaching for widespread scientific literacy per se - rather a recognition of the need for a much more tightly focused form of scientific literacy. The aim of that scientific literacy would be to enable individuals to make rational, scientifically based choices in a narrow range of socioscientific issues linked with students’ natural interests. This would focus primarily on human biology, along with some limited aspects of chemistry and physics. Such an approach has the added advantage that it could be effectively taught by the end of key stage 3, the same age at which students drop geography, history and languages as compulsory subjects.

The reality is that many people are able - irrespective of their academic achievements (or lack thereof) - to use their mobile phones, send emails and fly around the world without needing to know anything about the underlying science that enables such technology to function. Indeed, a key reason for the undeniable success that technology has had in shaping our lives, and the societies in which we live, is the very fact that you don’t need to be scientifically literate to be able to use it.

Oh, and just in case any of you are wondering how best to explain how aeroplanes stay in the air to any scared passengers you might find yourself sitting next to - it is essentially all to do with the curved shape of a wing. That shape means that air flowing over the top surface of the wing travels faster than air flowing under the bottom surface. As the air travels faster, it becomes less dense, and that difference in air density results in an upward (lifting) force. However, if the aeroplane stops moving forward (jet engines: Newton’s third law), the air then ceases flowing over the wing at different speeds. Then - yes, you’ve guessed it - the aeroplane would, like all metal objects you’ve ever seen, fall to the ground.

Professor Ian Abrahams is head of research and knowledge exchange, and professor of science education, at the University of Roehampton

This article originally appeared in the 9 April 2021 issue under the headline “Is science for all a flight of fancy?”