A story used to do the rounds some decades ago: As part of preparation for the school inspector’s impending visit, it was a master’s duty to get his pupils ready for a scripted questions and answers session. One student was chosen to answer the question ‘Who created you?’`– the answer, of course, being, ‘God’. As it happened, though the pupil dutifully participated in all rehearsal sessions, he had to absent himself on the D-Day on account of illness. The master therefore had no recourse but to ask the pupil sitting on the next seat the same question. The boy remained silent for a while, hesitated a bit, and finally said, ‘The one whom God created is on leave today, sir.’
The story is most probably fictitious (although one can never quite know), but like most amusing stories it accurately captures a facet of life that one sees around. There are many things our teachers taught us when we were fast asleep in class or in Timbuktu (mentally, that is). But it would be unfair to single students out for their failure to learn when most of the teachers have hardly been inspirational for their pupils when it comes to knowledge and wisdom. Therefore, the things they taught were probably taught the way the aforementioned master taught his pupil the ‘correct’ answer to ‘Who created you?’. Any wonder then, if our response to any question under the sun is rarely better than that of the second pupil.
The inimitable Shafiqur Rehman had a science professor in one of his short stories who expressed his conviction that the milk-yield of his favourite buffalo had dropped because of the evil eye. While this gentleman was a fictitious character, such specimens are everywhere in real life. One of our national traits is to do our best to keep what we learn at school separate and isolated from what we are as persons. In most cases therefore, the innocence going into any educational program has been successfully preserved till graduation. University students majoring in literature rarely (if ever) read anything outside of the curriculum. Sociology professors are terrified of black magic; while nobody is shocked when a mathematics major obsesses about bad omens on her way to the campus.
Depending on the observer, almost everything is taught atrociously at the educational institutes. That, or the students are complete dunces. Or there is a complete absence of interest and passion on their part for what they are supposed to study. (This would not exactly be shocking considering that most of them end up in their respective programmes for all the wrong reasons: it was their parents’ ‘dream’, or they had the ‘merit’ for it, or somebody or the other had predicted that there would be great ‘scope’ for it four years down the line.) Probably, the sad state of affairs is the result of a combination of all of the above.
I have written in the past about the hilarity one gets to hear from laymen as well as from participants at events arranged by energy think tanks. The tripe believed and spoken on the subject of energy is staggering to say the least. Most of it is on account of not understanding the laws of thermodynamics. There is a minimum amount of science everybody must know; or else risk looking like a fool or worse.
Failure to appreciate just how fast a bullet travels has other infuriating results as well: in action sequences of motion pictures, for example, where the protagonist routinely dodges bullets by tracking their trajectories. Film directors present such screenplays because they typically suck at physics. Those of them who know better believe (for the most part justifiably so) that their viewers do not, and will therefore lap it all up. All this makes for a lot of cringeworthy moments for those unfortunates among us who happen to know their physics.
How does ignorance of science on the part of laymen matter, you may be wondering. The abstract, philosophical response would be: Can ignorance ever not matter? On the practical level, it would be fitting to cite things such as bikers’ reluctance to wear helmets, car drivers’ and passengers’ aversion to fastening seat belts and kite flyers’ insistence on using life threatening strings, examples where lack of understanding of basic science directly translates into loss of life and limb.
Or, taking another familiar example, the many people that die or sustain injuries every year as a result of celebratory gunfire. The major factor behind such ‘accidents’ is lack of understanding, not of sophisticated quantum mechanics concepts, but of high-school physics, namely how fast a vertically shot bullet moves upon its return just prior to hitting the ground.
This is a question I often ask folks at weddings and other gatherings. Rarely (if ever) do I get the correct answer. Regarding returning bullets, most people have a tendency of thinking: ‘Well, how much can they hurt anyway!’ This is yet another instance of not understanding energy (our nemesis physics again)– more specifically its conservation: That energy merely changes from one form to another, never getting destroyed in the process. The kinetic energy (which is maximum when the bullet is fired) is zero at the maximum altitude because all of it has been converted into potential energy. All this potential energy transforms back to the original kinetic energy when it reaches the ground again. Since kinetic energy is a function of velocity, the speed of the bullet as it leaves the muzzle of the firearm and as it hits the ground upon return must be one and the same. (Considering that bullets are designed to be aerodynamic, air resistance takes little away from the lethality of the bullet.)
Failure to appreciate just how fast a bullet travels has other infuriating results as well: in action sequences of motion pictures, for example, where the protagonist routinely dodges bullets by tracking their trajectories. Film directors present such screenplays because they typically suck at physics. Those of them who know better believe (for the most part justifiably so) that their viewers do not, and will therefore lap it all up. All this makes for a lot of cringeworthy moments for those unfortunates among us who happen to know their physics.
In addition to the difficulty of appreciating the high speeds involved in bullet travel, there is the widespread trouble in understanding projectile motion. For example, it is usual to see the protagonist of the motion picture avoiding getting shot by diving or plunging down at the exact moment the enemy fires a shot in his direction. Anybody who knew the first things about projectile motion (as every educated man ought to do) would much rather stay put. For if he stays where he is, and if the shooter has aimed at the heart without allowing for gravity, and if his aim happens to be accurate, the bullet will strike somewhat below the heart (a good thing for our hero). Diving, on the other hand, would result in the bullet penetrating the heart (not so good for the happy ending of the film). Some filmmakers circumvent the problem by making the protagonist catch the bullet instead. Ever since the great Dharmendra called it a day however, there is hardly any actor who can make the act look convincing enough for the viewers.
