It’s very easy to put people into boxes: ‘public’, ‘media’, ‘scientists’. In April, I set out with my colleagues Arko Olesk and Graham Paterson to better understand the similarities and differences in how these supposedly distinct groups view science.

Our method called for an A3 sketch pad and fibre-tip pen. So armed, we accosted members of the public, scientists, and science communicators, and looking over their shoulders in the nicest possible way, asked them to DRAW what is important about science. We also recorded what they said while drawing, and to capture all this diversity in an intriguing and memorable way, stitched the pictures together in the manner of the surrealists’ Exquisite Corpse.

The Exquisite Corpse of Science from Tim Jones on Vimeo.

We believe the technique catches those instinctive responses that might be lost in a more considered written answer. I think sketching is also a great leveler between the various groups we interviewed - as few of us are great artists!

Interest in the project has prompted me to invite literally everybody to send me a picture (and audio if they like) via the dedicated email address corpse@communicatescience.com. I am joining these into one big Exquisite Corpse of Science mosaic, which will be accessible online and also in 3D in Second Life. Theoretcially, there is no end to this piece of ‘Sci-Art’. To take part, follow the instructions here at the Zoonomian blog.

Science is important because it creates opportunities in life that make us who we are. Science has given us choices that we now take for granted.

For me, this is particularly relevant because I was born partially deaf and wear hearing aids. Both the advanced medical techniques that identified which frequencies my hearing lacks and the innovative engineering of hearing devices that reinstated these frequencies meant that I now have the same opportunities as hearing people throughout my life. My peers forget that I am hard of hearing and think of me as the same as them. I also take my ability to hear for granted, but without the science behind my hearing aids, I wouldn’t even BE the person that I am today. Similarly, if it wasn’t for the scientific research and development behind eyewear, artificial limbs, pacemakers, hip replacements and so on, most people would be struggling with life as they know it now.

Even the lucky few of us who are fully able-bodied have had opportunities elicited by scientific innovation, shaping them as individuals. Thanks to progressively more sophisticated transport and communication technologies, we can talk to someone on the other side of the world just by logging onto the internet, and we can immerse ourselves in an entirely different culture thousands of miles away within just a few hours. Without science we would all still be limited to talking to locals in villages on our small island, but now we have a choice between that life and a life of meeting people from different backgrounds and appreciating the great diversity of cultures on this planet.

The opportunities presented by science also extend far beyond our personal boundaries. As many have said before me on this website, humans as a species are intrinsically curious and science provides us with increasingly more advanced tools for exploration. It allows us to look at the interactions of human societies in the world as well as investigate the non-human aspects of nature, and to try and answer the core question about our existence: “where do we fit in, in the big picture?”

We’ve even extended this curiosity to realms outside of Earth: stellar systems that may house Earth-like planets have already been identified, and radio signals are being emitted deep into outer space in the hope that an intelligent life form will communicate with us. Perhaps this scientific exploration will eventually lead to us having a choice of either remaining here on Earth or moving to a new planet with an entirely alien ecosystem, which will open doors to a whole host of new opportunities for us.

As well as his work in television, Nigel has written 35 books and over 1000 articles, which have been translated into 27 languages. He is a columnist for The Independent newspaper and BBC Focus magazine. Asteroid 3795 is named “Nigel” in his honour; and he is enrolled to travel into space with Virgin Galactic in 2011.

It’s taken me some time to come round to answering this question; not because it’s difficult, but because it is too easy. After all: Why is music important? Why is breathing important?

Trying to understand the world around is, I believe, hard-wired into human nature. And “science” is just that process of understanding. Yes, you can interpret nature in terms of gods and demons. But, sooner or later, you are likely to move on. The mind is finely tuned to pick out patterns in the world around us; and once you have the leisure - as the Greek middle classes did in the first few centuries BC - you begin to see how the world is set out on rational principles.

And that rationalism is based deep inside us. When non-scientists profess to me that the scientific method is divorced from everyday life, I like to point out what I learned when acting as the foreman on a jury at the Old Bailey. What struck me then was weighing up the evidence in a law-court is, basically, the same as doing science. It’s looking for a pattern in pieces of evidence that may be, superficially, contradictory; and finding a conclusion that meshes all the lines of evidence together.

For those who find science intimidatingly complex, I’d suggest following a case of serious fraud, where juries are often flummoxed by the devious nature of the evidence and the finer points of criminal law. I think the case for the Earth orbiting the Sun, the atomic nature of matter or the evolution of life on Earth is actually easier to understand. And, to the human mind, it’s a fitting verdict on the evidence.

I see science as a vision. As a landscape. As a perspective for us to reflect on the events that are happening in the world - and how to see a way ahead.

I’ll take the last statement first. Currently, science doesn’t have a great press. Stem-cell research, genetic modification and cloning are looked upon as unnatural. But science has the power to change lives, and to help humankind move forward. However - the bottom line is that I believe science underpins our whole existence. It’s the driver behind our culture, our mores, and our beliefs.

It’s incredible how science has gradually replaced mythology with rational explanation. The god Thor used to hurl thunderbolts; but now we know the reasons behind our electric skies. Deities - like Mars and Jupiter - used to grace our night skies. In the 21st century, we know that these are fascinating worlds in their own right: two of millions in the Universe.

When it comes to culture, I find it amazing that in just over 500 years, humankind has dethroned Earth from being the centre of the Universe. It’s become a mere blob circling an average, suburban, middle-age star in an unremarkable galaxy. And that says a lot about us. By discovering our real place in the cosmos, we’re now motivated to explore. And soon we will have people - who may even live next door - realising their dreams to travel into space, on to the Moon, and beyond.

When I think of the future, I wonder what those new cosmic visions and landscapes will open up for generations to come. And where it all might lead?

I run science.TV. When someone with as little scientific background as me finds himself in such a position, it’s clear something is wrong. I think that the role found me because science does a terrible job of promoting itself and, if you don’t mind, I’ll use this site to share my ideas why.

Have you ever been to see a film that everyone is raving about? Slumdog Millionaire springs to mind. Not a bad film in the grand scheme of things - but I hated it. Why? Because people were so keen to tell me how brilliant it was. It is human nature to be sceptical of evangelism. This scepticism is particularly true in kids. As adults, we’ve mostly given up on honesty and accept a level of positive spin as the norm. Kids haven’t, so when we lie to them we shouldn’t be surprised when they react negatively. There are, it seems, two main lies in science communication. Firstly, science is ‘exciting’ and secondly science is ‘good’.

Ok, so the first isn’t a lie. Science is, of course, exciting, but not in the same way that penalty shoot-outs or casual sex are exciting. Bits of it are painfully tedious, mind-numbingly slow, difficult, threatening. But the rewards of applying the scientific method to a problem are huge. The excitement of finally getting data from the LHC, for example, must be immense - but a hundred times more so if you’ve put the effort into constructing the experiment. Most kids understand this. Things are exciting in different ways and have different patterns of effort and reward. There’s really no sense in explaining one in terms of the other. This leads on to another favourite of science evangelists which I think does more harm than good: expecting a positive reaction when telling a child that his or her iPod wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for science, that everything is made by science - isn’t it wonderful..? This is a patronising and very boring thing to say and I don’t understand how anyone could expect a positive response for this pearl of banality. What’s the logic?

The second lie about science - that science is ‘good’. The example given is almost always medicine. As a child I remember thinking that keeping old and diseased people alive was a stupid thing to do. That was a while ago, but the World was already overpopulated. The consequences of overpopulation are much clearer now. Fortunately, my thinking is less clear so I am not so rabidly pro-euthanasia. My point (bear with me) is that whether science is ‘good’ or not is a complex issue. Trying to argue that it is good because a human life has been saved is a pathetic lie which kids can see right through.

Science is neither good nor bad, it is morally neutral. What science is - undeniably - is powerful. So my tip for getting young people into science: remember the brutal honesty of your audience. Calmly - and without spin - demonstrate the power of the scientific method in tackling the unknown and there will be no need for people like me to be involved in science communication.

Taxonomy is the field of research devoted to naming and describing living organisms - everything from bacteria and viruses to whales and flowers. It is an essential yet much underappreciated aspect of scientific research and without it huge branches of biology and other sciences would be near impossible. Taxonomists provide the basic vocabulary of biology if you like, defining each new species (individual words) and making sure there are accurate definitions of those species (like a dictionary) and records of those species, as DNA or actual specimens in museums so that everyone knows exactly which species is which and what other species it is related to. Without this kind of knowledge we cannot begin to do the simplest things with any degree of accuracy - if you do not know what species any given organism belongs to, then it becomes very hard to say anything meaningful about it.

How do you protect a given species if you don’t even know what is, and what is not, a member of that species? Want to treat a snake bite? What species was it? Got a new drug from a rare frog, great! What frog was it? Are there any realtives that might yield similar compounds? Are you working on a single species of a bunch of them in your lab that are very hard to distinguish? A new insect is eating your crops? What is it? How can we kill it? Are there any close relatives we might kill by mistake that are actually beneficial? Want to track extinction rates over time? You will need to know what spceis can be identified in the fossil record. We can use some species as indicators of clean water, or to track global warming but only if we can reliably identify them and tell them apart from others.

Taxonomy is therefore an integral part of biology and science as a whole, reaching out into other fields almost unnoticed, but most especially medicine. As a subject it is fundamental to our understanding of the natural world and critical to future research. We must know what speices we have and what they are to be able to continue to study everything from infectious diseases to pollution and the history of life. If we are going to save our planet, we have to know what is on there to start with.

Science is simply the human attempt to understand the world, the better to use it for our benefit. In order to pursue science effectively, we have to do two, apparently contradictory things which illuminate what science is.

Firstly, we need to learn and understand the gains of science to date. Science is a social and historical activity. To see further, to paraphrase Newton, we must stand on the shoulders of giants. This is true of almost every field of human endeavour from music to cookery - the great innovators have usually started by engaging fully with what has been developed before. There’s no inspiration without the perspiration.

Secondly, we need to be sceptical and questioning of everything that has been said before. When scientific conclusions are accepted as unquestionable facts handed down to us from on high, we can never make progress. My favourite example of this is the discovery of the bacterium H.pylori by the Australians Robin Warren and Barry Marshall. If they had accepted the received wisdom that bacteria cannot survive in the acidic conditions of the stomach, they may not have discovered that this bacterium causes the majority of peptic and duodenal ulcers.

Science is an object lesson in the necessary skills to grapple with a great variety of the problems facing society today.

And yet, we should also ask ‘why not science?’ The conclusions of scientific research are essential to inform policy, but science cannot decide policy. To understand that the world is getting warmer does not determine what we should do about it. To know that smoking can be bad for you doesn’t demand that smoking should be banned. These are complex political, social and moral questions. If we tackle them in the spirit of informed scepticism that science demonstrates so well, we are more likely to come to better conclusions. That is one reason why an understanding of scientific method, and the gains it can bring, would benefit everyone.

When Alom asked me if I would make a contribution to this site, I said I’d think about it. I’ve been thinking about it for a couple of days now, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the question ‘Why is science important?’ is actually faintly ridiculous. It’s a bit like asking ‘Why is breathing important?’ The answer is so painfully self-evident that it barely seems worth asking the question.

Instead of an answer, I’ll pose a challenge instead. Push back from your PC or laptop and look around you. Try to think of things that happen in your life which do not depend in some way on science. Before the anal retentive at the back with his hand raised opens his mouth to protest that it is technology that has come to dominate all aspects of our lives, let’s be absolutely clear that there can be no technology without science. So, are you struggling? If you’re being honest with yourself, I doubt that you can find more than a few aspects of your life that are not in some way shaped or even dominated by science. This answers the question. This is why science is important. In our Western, scientific-technical culture, science determines who and how we are.

Why, then, do we feel it is even necessary to ask such a question? Because, of course, despite its evident success and ubiquity, science appears to be under threat. Not from anti-science movements necessarily, but from a much more worrisome foe: a distinct lack of interest in all things scientific.

Perhaps a more relevant question is, therefore: ‘Why should anyone be interested?’ In seeking an answer to this question, I would encourage honesty and pragmatism. The truth is, not all science is interesting. A lot of it is pretty dull, in fact.

It helps to steal some of the logic from Thomas Kuhn’s fabled analysis of the structure of scientific revolutions. Kuhn differentiated between ‘normal’ science, the routine puzzle-solving that scientists engage in within the boundaries of the prevailing ‘paradigm’. Kuhn had many different ways of using the word ‘paradigm’ so to keep things simple here I’ll use it to mean the collective understanding of the way the world works, its agents and its rules, that prevails within the scientific community at any point in time. Think of the paradigm as the accepted language scientists use to have intelligent conversations among themselves about the puzzles they’re working on.

Normal science operating within various paradigms, I would like to suggest, has been the foundation of various generations of our technology. But here’s the rub. Normal science is like doing crosswords or Sudoku. Unless you are an obsessive puzzle-solver, normal science can appear rather boring. It is also horribly complex, with the heaviness of three hundred years of accumulated learning weighing on the shoulders of anyone who wants to understand how to do the puzzles. We really ought not to be surprised when people profess a lack of interest.

Try explaining to a teenager with a limited attention-span how 3G wireless telephony supports mobile multi-media applications because it makes use of packet-switched data with improved spectral efficiency, and perhaps you get my point. Teenagers don’t need to understand the technology and the science beneath it in order to enjoy the experiences of 3G wireless telephony. They don’t need to understand it in order to be what teenagers generally are.

What makes science interesting - what really brings science alive - is when the scientists stumble over bits and pieces of evidence that don’t fit comfortably within the accepted paradigm. As the evidence builds, the minor irritation becomes a major problem, the problem becomes a crisis and the crisis sparks a revolution. Questions no longer have easy answers. Emotions run high. Arguments break out. Sometimes it gets ugly. Kuhn made direct comparisons between the processes of scientific revolution and political revolution.

In a revolution, the scientists ask themselves deep and meaningful questions that hint faintly (sometimes not so faintly) at philosophical questions, about precisely how the world works and what our place is within it. The old guard tend to stumble, because a lifetime spent tutoring scientists in the ways of the old paradigm is poor preparation for the next paradigm-shift. It is instead the young turks, those younger scientists who are insufficiently wedded to the rules that they are prepared to throw them out with seeming abandon, who step up and shape the new paradigm.

It was revolutionary science that led to our modern understanding of the universe. It was revolutionary science that created evolution by natural selection. Revolutionary science led to relativity and quantum physics, quarks and the standard model. In a scientific revolution, it becomes permissible once again to gape in child-like awe and wonder at the marvellous mystery of it all. It is this kind of science which inspires.

So, when seeking to fire the imaginations of the next generation of scientists and technologists it is perhaps worthwhile remembering that it is usually the questions that fascinate, not our convoluted, long-winded, hundred-year-old answers.

I love science. I could never be a scientist.

At birth, I imagine the DNA passed my way just wasn’t sequenced for an easy chumminess with math and formulas. Nor did I have welded into my early existence a storehouse of patience - no, not nearly enough to spend years later in a remote corner of the knowledge spectrum, chipping away clue-by-clue at some stubborn secret. I love science, but on the other hand my schooled exposure to it, like that of so many others, is recalled as having been pretty dull - gnarled textbook chapters with threatening questions at their conclusion, and a system of rewards and failures focused almost entirely on memorizing lots of stuff. Nowhere in the mind-numbing thicket of pages and texts and diagrams and quizzes was it ever expressed to me that science has a soul. No poetry ever interrupted the unyielding stream of facts and figures demanding to be recalled. The rare field-trips to science museums were a day’s escape from the classroom, a ride on the bus, a lark punctuated by artifacts behind glass, lectures and captions, labels, and more boring linearity. It was almost as bad as church.

What an unlikely overture then, one might rightfully observe, to what eventually became my affection for the discipline of science and its deployment of rigor, reason, and painstaking evidence-gathering to further the cause of humanity. I wasn’t supposed to like science, even, so what interrupted the inevitable product of this forgone conclusion?

Science isn’t just about what science knows - it’s also about what science, as a human concept, means in the culture where humans reside. Meaning is invested in symbols, and symbols are elusive things, irrational and everywhere, and mostly harvested in the province of art. Symbols seem like the opposite of plain facts — they contain hyperactive memes, and spread like viruses, infiltrating and irritating cultural stasis, sometimes to the breaking point. Symbols help make change. Dignified facts and rascally symbols are closely aligned, though, and both are forged in the furnaces of science. I think I was led to science by its symbols, by its art. I admire science for its brains, but what it symbolizes is what seduced me. And what it symbolizes is that we humans are audacious and unafraid, we are the gods of a rational quest for truth. As it may demand we shed sometimes treasured shackles from the past, science is the essence of chutzpah - with an exquisitely dissonant beauty found in its minutia and its unfathomable scale. Science is liberating, a constant provocateur. But perhaps in the end what science best symbolizes can be reduced to a tiny and splendid fact about ourselves - we humans are simply and helplessly curious, and nothing for long impedes the force of our curiosity. Science is important for many reasons, but it’s important to me because of its spirit.