This week is British Science Week. The history of science is, in many ways the history of curious minds. Many of the most important advances in human history have begun with a single curious individual and a single curious question.

In Wednesday’s whole-school assembly two Upper Sixth Formers spoke about the scientists who have inspired members of the Sixth Form. Albert and Michael’s presentations reminded us that curiosity can be a powerful force: it can change the world for the better, but sometimes it can also create unintended dilemmas.

Their accounts of inspiring scientists are reproduced below.

Albert

Ernest Rutherford was a pioneering scientist who demonstrated great curiosity in the field of atomic physics. He was particularly interested in understanding the structure of the atom, which at the time was still poorly understood. Through his famous Gold Foil Experiment, he and his colleagues fired alpha particles at thin gold foil and observed how they scattered. Rutherford was curious when a small number of particles bounced back, which contradicted existing models of the atom. From this observation, he proposed that atoms contain a small, dense, positively charged nucleus, with most of the atom being empty space. His curiosity and willingness to investigate unexpected results revolutionised scientists’ understanding of atomic structure and laid the foundations for modern nuclear physics.

Michael

One scientist whose curiosity transformed our understanding of the brain is the neuroscientist, Brenda Milner. In the 1950s, she studied a patient known as H.M., who had part of his brain, including the hippocampus, removed in an operation to treat severe epilepsy. After the surgery, H.M. could still remember events from his childhood and could carry out normal conversations, but he was unable to form new long-term memories. Milner’s careful experiments revealed that the hippocampus is crucial for forming new episodic memories (memories for any life events).

At the same time, she discovered that other types of memory remained intact: H.M. could still learn new motor skills, such as tracing shapes in a mirror, even though he had no conscious memory of practising them. This showed that different types of memory rely on different neural systems. Therefore, her work helped establish the scientific study of memory and laid the foundations for modern cognitive neuroscience.

Glenn Seaborg was born in post-war Michigan at the start of the twentieth century. He was a precocious scientist who would go on to reshape the periodic table and discover 10 elements. This was a particularly impressive feat considering many scientists at the time had concluded that there were none left to discover.

Seaborg’s curiosity was evident during his time at the University of California where he worked under Robert Oppenheimer in developing nuclear weapons. However, Seaborg’s curiosity extended beyond the laboratory as he would advise 10 different presidents on nuclear policy and became a key contributor to the Limited Test Ban Treaty and the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Agreement. Seaborg illustrated what it meant to be a diligent and investigative academic. This was ultimately recognised by a Nobel Prize in Chemistry.

Before hearing from Albert and Michael, I shared the story of a scientist whose curiosity changed the world in ways he later struggled to come to terms with: the Hungarian-American physicist Leo Szilard.

Many of you will have seen the recent film, Oppenheimer, which explores the role of scientists in creating the nuclear bomb. One character in that story who receives less attention is Szilard himself.

Szilard was a great reader and a particular admirer of the writer HG Wells. Wells is best known for his novel about alien invasion: The War of the Worlds and another hugely influential work of science fiction, The Time Machine. He also wrote a lesser-known novel called The World Set Free, in which he imagined the existence of a powerful atomic bomb.

In Richard Flanagan’s outstanding book Question 7, the author suggests that this fictional idea had a remarkable real-world consequence, because after reading Well’s novel, Szilard became fascinated by the possibility that such a weapon might one day exist.

One day, while watching traffic lights change in Central London, Szilard had a sudden insight about the possibility of a nuclear chain reaction. From that moment, curiosity became an obsession.

Szilard quickly realised the terrifying implications of his idea. In 1939, he wrote a letter, signed by Albert Einstein and other prominent physicists, warning that Nazi Germany might develop atomic weapons. This letter prompted President Franklin D. Roosevelt to begin the Manhattan Project, which under Robert Oppenheimer’s leadership ultimately developed the ‘bomb’.  From that moment, the question was no longer simply whether they could they build a ‘bomb’ but what should they do with that discovery. 

Szilard passionately believed in the sanctity of human life and political freedom. He hoped that the United States would not use nuclear weapons, but that the mere threat of such weapons might force Germany and Japan to surrender, preserving human life and allowing democracy to triumph over totalitarianism.

History took a different path.  Atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and he had, to echo Oppenheimer and borrow from the Bhagavad Gita become ‘the destroyer of worlds.’ Like Oppenheimer, Szilard spent much of the rest of his life wrestling with the consequences of the power he had helped to unleash. He feared that nuclear weapons would trigger an arms race between the United States and the Soviet Union, a fear that proved well-founded.

His story reminds us that curiosity is a virtue.  It is curiosity that drives discovery, advances knowledge, and enriches the human condition. But it also reminds us of the ancient wisdom of Aristotle.  Who taught that every virtue must be held in balance.  He called this the doctrine of the golden mean: the idea that virtues lie between two extremes, excess and deficiency, and that wisdom lies in finding the correct equilibrium.

Curiosity, too, must be balanced.  At its best it can lead to extraordinary progress. But the story of Leo Szilard reminds us of the dangers of curiosity without reflection and the need for curiosity to be guided by responsibility and an awareness of the potential consequences of our ideas. Because curiosity, if left unchecked can sometimes take us to places we never intended to go.

Szilard’s story reminds us that scientists, and indeed all of us, must ask a question we sometimes forget to ask.

Not only: “Can we do it?”

But, even more importantly: “Should we?”

At Warwick School, we want our pupils to be curious. Our hope is that they pursue knowledge with enthusiasm, imagination and determination, but always with the judgement and character to use that knowledge wisely.