UNSPECTACULAR HEROES

We finally got round to watching the Christmas Lectures. This year they were all about viruses and vaccines, how it all works and how scientists have powered through the last two years to save as many people as possible. With the help of special guests, Jonathan Van-Tam (soon to be Sir Jonathan Van-Tam I understand) explained the science to a lecture-room filled with children, at the Royal Institution.

I love that they do this. In the same space where Faraday demonstrated electromagnetic induction, where Jenner explained immunisation, and Carl Sagan sent a boy’s recorded ‘Hello’ signal echoing across the solar system, notable scientists have been inspiring and educating at the RI since 1825.

“Everyone should watch this,” I said, choking up. The experts were delving into exactly how mRNA vaccines work, with plastic models and balloons. Out they came, one after the other - someone who worked night and day on the AstaZeneca programme, another who used data modelling and mathematics to create detailed predictions, still another who devoted their life to sequencing and replication. I was a bit teary by the end of it.

These are our heroes. They aren’t the Avengers or Justice League. They weren’t caped in supernatural powers or endowed with alien strength; they were just ordinary people - scientists with jumpers and glasses, hair clips, smart-shoes,  They were awkward, unfamiliar with presenting, unconfident in some regards with how to bottle down their research for children. There was nothing spectacular about any of them.

And yet, each one has played a significant part in a global team-game of saving the planet. It’s jaw-dropping to think that they managed to create vaccines in less than 400 days. It’s mind-boggling to think of the numbers of people their work has undoubtedly saved. I was, not for the first time, kind of starstruck with the humility of science and its quest to help humanity.

I appreciate, I’m on dangerous ground with some of you here. There are reasons to be sceptical, and I’m not clever enough to convince you that this is not some massive conspiracy. All I can say is that these lectures are worth a watch - if only for your own balanced research. Read up about the science, about the development of the vaccines from people like Sarah Gilbert, Cath Noakes, or yes even JVT, who have selflessly worked this stuff out for us. It makes a lot of sense to me.

I miss being involved in science. It was hard in the end, and I wasn’t really cut out for the world of laser physics or high-intensity plasma research, but I do miss the idea that we could have saved the world. These days, we’re all looking to do something meaningful and memorable, and in a way, as difficult as it is, science is a way to do that. If a worldwide crisis had come along that could only be solved by nickel-sputtering on tiny targets, or by angling YAG lasers around a beam chamber, I’d have been one of those heroes myself.

The children were wide-eyed in their seats at the Royal Institution. I don’t blame them - this stuff is really cool. I imagined they’d been handpicked somehow as kids who were already really interested in science, and not the kids who were going to throw paper darts around at the back of the class. There was a hopefulness in the air, that this, maybe this could be the thing that inspires some of them to get involved and push the team-game forward in the next generations.

That has to be a good thing.