The obituaries were being written before the body was cold. Within hours of Prime Minister Andy Burnham confirming that Whitehall’s responsibilities for science and technology would be absorbed into a new Department for Business, Innovation, Science and Trade (DBIST), Sir Paul Nurse, president of the Royal Society, was on Radio 4 warning that “science isn’t a slave to business”. The trade association TechUK declared it “the wrong change at the wrong time”.

You might imagine that something ancient, ineffable and essential to British science had been ripped away. In fact, the Department for Science, Innovation and Technology (DSIT) was only born in February 2023 – a surprise late tweak to the machinery of government under Rishi Sunak’s faltering premiership.

Science has never enjoyed a settled home in Whitehall. For most of the period from 1995 to 2023, it sat precisely where Burnham has put it now: inside a business super-department. Notably, the single most important protection UK science secured in that era – a ring-fenced budget through the George Osborne austerity years – was won from inside the Business, Innovation and Science department, under then-business secretary Vince Cable.

The historian David Edgerton has long argued that Britain’s fondness for tinkering with the machinery of government is a form of displacement activity. What actually shapes the fortunes of research is money, people and demand for what they produce, not the nameplates on London’s Victoria Street.

On that test, the outlook for science is far calmer than some reactions to this latest move would suggest. Under plans published last October, the UK’s total research and development budget is locked in at £58.5 billion over the four-year spending review to 2030 – a real-terms increase.

Machinery changes move budget lines across departments; they don’t unravel them. As yet, nothing we’ve heard from the Burnham government suggests the settlement for UK Research and Innovation (UKRI) is at risk.

A US wrecking ball

If we want to be reminded what real damage to a science system looks like, we only need to glance across the Atlantic. While London rearranges the departmental furniture and dishes out new email addresses, Washington is taking a wrecking ball to the foundations of its public science system.

A 2027 budget request will halve the size of the US National Science Foundation, if passed. A draft White House rule, due to take effect in October, will hand political appointees the power to vet federal research grants against “the president’s priorities” and terminate awards mid-stream.

A predictable exodus has begun. The Nobel laureate Omar Yaghi has just left the University of California, Berkeley for Tsinghua University in China.

Set against political commissars patrolling the borders of knowledge, the UK’s science soap opera feels deeply provincial – a debate about which secretary of state sponsors oversight of a gradually swelling budget.

And the institutional layer beneath this is in better shape than doomsayers allow. UKRI’s new strategy has set a clear five-year path: priority programmes in AI, quantum and clean energy, faster funding decisions, and a welcome seriousness about experimentation with the modes and means by which we manage public investment in research.

Not everyone is happy with UKRI’s approach to prioritisation. But a funder with a published strategy, agreed budget and hard targets is a more durable asset than a three-year-old ministry. The research councils have outlasted every department that ruled over them, and UKRI will outlast this too.

Nor should the science community be spooked by closer proximity to business. When I leave my office at UCL and stroll down the Euston Road through London’s Knowledge Quarter – dubbed “the new square mile” – I pass by the Wellcome Trust, the Crick and Turing institutes, the British Library, Anthropic and Google DeepMind. Day in, day out, this dense weave of labs, firms and cultural institutions delivers what the triple helix of government, industry and academia is all about.

And we can find versions of the same story unfolding in Manchester, Sheffield, Cambridge and Glasgow. Rather than science being subordinate or “enslaved”, the UK’s world-leading universities have spent the past decade aligning themselves with agendas for regional growth and frontier technologies.

But there’s a harder truth lurking here too. Public money accounts for less than a third of UK research and development investment. The rest is financed and largely performed by the private sector.

UK science’s chronic weakness has never been the quality of publicly funded research. It is the R&D intensity of UK firms, and their ability to convert discoveries into products, services and revenue streams generated and owned in the UK.

If yoking science to industrial strategy in a single department reminds Whitehall to treat these as a single problem, some good may come of Burnham’s reorganisation.

AI policy concerns

With DSIT’s disappearance, a particular source of concern has been the future of AI policy. This at a time when the radical possibilities and risks of AI frontier models, fluctuating US export controls, and the latest “Sputnik moment” jolt from China’s Kimi K-3 demand sustained and technically fluent policy attention.

We are also seeing a sharp acceleration in the ways AI is transforming science itself – whether by cracking mathematical problems that stumped humans for the past 87 years, or collapsing decades-old models of grant writing and peer review.

Splitting AI from science just as they converge in practice would have been the least defensible element of this reorganisation. So it is reassuring that cross-government oversight of AI, including the AI Security Institute and AI public sector adoption, is moving to a new “AI taskforce” in the Cabinet Office – alongside the promotion of Kanishka Narayan to the status of AI minister attending Cabinet. Much now rests on his shoulders.

Government departments come and go. Those of us who have long advocated for research policies built on evidence rather than gut can allow ourselves a wry smile at the fuss created by this latest reorganisation – and then get back to work.

DSIT is dead, but UK science will be fine. Keep your eyes on the AI prize – and be thankful we are arguing about organograms, not survival.

James Wilsdon receives funding from UKRI and the Wellcome Trust, and a wider consortium of international research funders who partner in the Research on Research Institute (RoRI).

In a world where trust in institutions is mostly in decline, levels of trust in science remain relatively high. Yet at the same time, belief in scientific conspiracy theories, such as hushed-up effects of vaccines or aeroplane “chemtrails”, is also widespread.

What explains this apparent contradiction? Our work suggests we need to ask a different question – not how much people trust science, but which sources inform their understanding of what science is and how it works.

In our recent study of 843 US residents, we found that people who picture scientific progress as the work of lone geniuses, and who learn about science mainly from podcasts and documentaries, are markedly more drawn to conspiracy theories – whatever their level of education.

This fits the bigger picture very well. In a 16-country survey, 70% of respondents believed at least one false or unproven health claim. High trust in science and widespread conspiracy beliefs appear to coexist in the same populations.

We fear that trust in science is compatible with believing almost anything, so long as it is expressed in plausibly scientific terms. This can lead to some people refusing vaccines, trusting miracle cures or dismissing climate warnings – all while remaining convinced that science is on their side.

The ‘lone genius’ trope

At school, science is almost always presented as a linear sequence of achievements, or in the form of impersonal theories. The human side of discovery is largely stripped out.

In contrast, most science-focused films and documentaries build their narratives around biographies of exceptional individuals.

These often yield a familiar plot. Society is facing an intractable problem. A genius arrives with the exact solution – but is ignored and mocked until, after much personal pain, everyone realises he (for it is invariably a man) was right all along.

From the martyrdom of Giordano Bruno, the Renaissance friar burned at the stake partly for defending an infinite universe, to A Beautiful Mind, the Oscar-winning portrait of the mathematician John Nash, this lone-genius arc has permeated popular depictions of science for centuries.

Many conspiracy theorists seek to exploit this trope – in part to suggest that those who recognise it must be unusually smart too, living in a world where everyone else is “naive” or “brainwashed”.

Yet these lone genius plots leave out nearly everything that makes science work. Namely, the rather boring and complex processes of accumulation and evaluation, from peer review to replication and endless disagreements, through which reliable knowledge emerges from a crowd of people and institutions.

Research also shows that people presented with academic research “in the making”, without definitive conclusions, often read any hesitations or equivocations as scientific weakness, rather than honesty.

Most people trust science without understanding its technicalities. This means trust can easily be attached to shared cultural markers of “scientificity”: technical vocabulary, charts, credentials, fancy equipment, numbers quoted to impressive precision. In other words, whoever displays the right cues sounds plausibly scientific.

Consider the example of Corrado Malanga, an Italian chemist who developed an elaborate theory of aliens harvesting human souls, and his collaborator Filippo Biondi, a radar researcher. Using satellite radar, the pair claimed in March 2025 to have discovered an elaborate hidden city up to two kilometres beneath the Khafre pyramid in Egypt.

Archaeologists quickly and widely dismissed these claims, in part because this kind of radar cannot see more than a few metres underground. Yet Biondi went on to present their “discovery” at length on The Joe Rogan Experience, one of the world’s most popular podcasts, in January 2026 – attracting many millions of views and listens to this widely disputed “scientific account”.

A recent analysis examined 8.7 million Twitter (now X) posts that shared supposedly fact-checked news stories. It found that references to scientific entities – through use of terms such as scientist, university or study – were associated with an increase in sharing. However, this was especially true of “low-veracity content, and when users lean politically to the right”.

More likely to endorse conspiracy theories

There are two threads intertwining here: a story about how science progresses, and the informal media where it mostly lives.

In our recent study, published in Current Psychology, we measured participants’ “genius mentality” (the propensity to believe that progress comes from exceptional individuals overturning consensus through intuition) and also their science media preference (whether they favoured podcasts and documentaries over expert-vetted sources).

We found people who scored higher on either metric were more likely to endorse conspiracy theories. These correlative effects were stronger than either education or political orientation, factors usually considered major drivers of such beliefs.

We also observed an interesting moderation effect: among people with little or even moderate trust in scientists, a high belief in the genius mentality markedly increased conspiracy belief. Among those who trusted scientists most, it made almost no difference.

From our research, we believe standard remedies, fact-checks and appeals to “trust the science” miss a deeper problem. They may correct claims one at a time, but leave untouched core beliefs (and misunderstandings) about how science works.

A more durable approach is to make the collective machinery visible: to explain why debate, peer review and the slow building of consensus, rather than individual intuition, are what make science reliable.

Some science education researchers argue that the goal should not be to turn everyone into a scientist, but a “competent outsider” – people who can correctly evaluate where knowledge comes from and how it has been produced.

We believe a school science education should not only introduce theories, but explain how the scientific community works on a daily basis. Children need to learn how knowledge emerges from many people cooperating and challenging each other within shared criteria – and that any consensus which survives this process is a strength, not groupthink.

Our ambition is to protect against future conspiracy theories before they emerge, rather than simply trying to correct the last one.

Michele d'Errico receives funding from the Irish Research Council.

Taha Yasseri receives funding from Research Ireland and Workday Inc.