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Every so often, at least in the Western world, there seems to be a bit of a panic: politicians, media professionals, and ordinary citizens do not know enough science to value, appreciate, and rationally discuss it and the issues it poses. It happened in Britain in the late 1820s, and the upshot was the foundation of the British Association for the Advancement of Science. U.S. scientists and politicians were shocked in the 1950s to discover that the Russians had successfully launched the first artificial satellite, Sputnik; surveys showed that the average American knew very little science. The result was an intense drive for scientific literacy in the education system. Crises in funding for scientific research in the mid-1980s coupled with concerns that the “Asian tiger” economies, led by Japan, were outstripping Europe gave rise to the latest phase of actions to promote the public understanding of science across the European Union. And despite the change in rhetoric to include dialogue and debate, behind much of what passes for engaging the public is still aimed at redressing some perceived deficiency among ordinary citizens. Where science is concerned, there is a public deficit, and it is the job of the scientific community to address it—that, in a nutshell, is what the deficit model entails.

In 1985, the Royal Society—Britain's premier scientific society—produced the report “The Public Understanding of Science” that urged the media to carry more science and told scientists that they had a duty, no less, to communicate with the public about the work that they did, changing the ethos of several decades during which researchers who did make their work accessible to their fellow citizens had been shunned as self-serving attention seekers, who were not very good scientists anyway. Instead, thousands of scientists, from the humble PhD student to the superannuated Fellow of the Royal Society, were encouraged—and sometimes funded—to give public lectures, take part in science fairs, and be friendly to the media—all aimed at increasing the public understanding of science and scientific literacy. Analyzing the motives for this activity in 1987, Oxford scholars Geoffrey Thomas and John Durant found that these ranged from macroeconomics and national prestige, to enabling citizens to be involved in informed democratic debate and to lead fulfilled lives, to enhancing moral behavior.

Thomas and Durant later surveyed levels of scientific literacy—defined by knowing a dozen or so key facts of science, understanding the scientific method, and appreciating the social importance of science—and found that most people were ignorant of science by the definition used. Previous surveys in the United States showed similar results; later, surveys across Europe confirmed the (gloomy) picture, and the European Union took steps to rectify the situation. Moreover, unlike previous concerns about the citizen–science relationship, the latest phase has been globalized. Surveys carried out in Japan, India, China, Korea, Brazil, and South Africa—to name but a few non-European and non-U.S. countries—have all shown similar deficits in the scientificity of the public.

Survey Results and the Deficits They Show

Behind all of these surveys is the notion that the results provide some sort of performance indicators and that—as with indicators of economic activity, for example—action can be taken to improve the performance. And behind that assumption is the sometimes explicit, but usually implicit, notion that to know more science is to like it better. So what evidence does this model of a somewhat deficient public rest upon?

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