"Oh! You are an arts student!” Neighbours and relatives would wrinkle their noses as if the very idea of humanities threw up a stink. At a time when my cousins were charting out a future as engineers or doctors, I was the odd one out who wanted to pursue history or journalism. Many decades since, this perception persists. Recently, I was trying to discuss plate tectonic theory in the context of the recent earthquakes in Venezuela and Colombia with a friend’s son, who is in class VII. He was simply not interested. “My future lies in robotics. My parents say all this geography-wography is of no use to me,” he said.
Half an hour later, this very geography-wography decided to assert its importance. While our part of the city was dry, another part barely 4km away—where his parents were coming from to pick him up—was waterlogged after a heavy downpour. As the boy scratched his head at the two contrasts, I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath about “micro-climates, topography shifts, declining green cover”.
This “no use” argument is my biggest peeve. How can one not be a lifelong student of social science when it is all around us in so many interconnected ways? You don’t study social science, you live it. If the onion is only making a guest appearance on our plates these days, wouldn’t you want to know more about the supply gap caused by unseasonal rains? Or if recent textbooks showed an altered image of the Dancing Girl of Mohenjadaro with a covered torso, perhaps you would want to go back in history to understand the context in which the figurine was made and how notions of nudity and representation have changed over time (the original image was later restored after public outrage).
A list of engaging resources
The problem lies in the way these disciplines are taught from an early stage, often confined to silos, instead of being shown as interrelated ideas. That’s sad because social science adds a human touch to our overall scientific temper. Innovations like Artificial Intelligence and robotics do not exist in a vacuum, but in a world shaped by human behaviour, history, and policy. And it is about time that the study of humanities was made a fun learning experience.
There is no paucity of resources—new and old—to make social science a deeply engaging subject. Take, for instance, the animated shorts by Ted-Ed, a youth and education initiative. One of my favourites is the video on the transformation of Edo—the 400-year-old name for modern-day Tokyo—into a circular economy. Once one of the largest cities in the world, it faced timber shortages, severe erosion and frequent flooding due to massive deforestation. But over a few decades, Edo ended up becoming one of the most sustainable and efficient cities in history due to its zero-waste closed-loop society.
“But what would it take to create an Edo 2.0 that is fit for the ecological realities of the 21st century? What insights might we draw from the past?” asks Australian social philosopher Roman Krznaric, in a 2024 BBC article that compares the Edo period with the current scenario when humanity’s material footprint is almost double what the planet can safely sustain. That calls for a science solution, yes, but one that can take inspiration from history.
Similarly, the rules of grammar aren’t just for the finicky. Who would have thought that punctuation could be a lens to view history and social behaviour. On the Mark: A History of Punctuation from Ancient Egypt to the Emoticon by Florence Hazrat, meant for 18 years and above, is one such book. It is a good reference point for both adults and children on ways to bring together grammar, history, technology and political science. Take, for example, the section on how punctuation has circumvented censorship. Hazrat gives the example of a wordless protest at a European Parliament session in Strasbourg in 2013 when delegates held up exclamation marks against Hungary’s constitutional change to confer undue power to its central government.
Another fascinating segment is on Typing Tone and the Punctuation of Cyber Space, which looks at how the full stop or the period has become a sign of passive aggression and curtness during informal digital messaging. The way you add dots and dashes to your sentences can serve as a record of how social interactions, institutions, and cultural norms have evolved alongside technology. There is something to be said about the way social science is approached at home as well.
In some instances, adults, who themselves might have yawned their way through chapters on governance and elections in school, find it difficult to reimagine the topics for their kids. The concepts that inform our everyday living are relegated to mere academic theories, something to be memorised to pass exams and then move on.
Authors and artists are trying to change this mindset by making complex topics more relatable to children as young as 7 or 8. Our Constitution, Our People, written by Harsh Mander and illustrated by Priya Kuriyan, looks at the continuing relevance of the document for the present and future generations of the country. Through vivid visuals and examples, they delve into the promises that we made to ourselves, what we have achieved so far and where we need to go.
Another engaging read in a similar vein for children is Mini’s First Vote, written by Shabnam Minwalla, illustrated by Ekta Bharti. Minwalla tries to demystify the process of elections for young people through the example of a poll in Mini’s school to choose a school captain.
Her elder brother, a class VIII student, comes to her rescue. He advises her to listen closely to speeches and to decide only once the candidate’s promises make sense. The book offers a lovely glimpse into Mini’s mind as she mulls over the various candidates. Does she go for sparkly posters, promises of more sports, or will she prefer a candidate who wants to make school a fun place?
If we want the next generation to build sustainable cities and stand up for all that’s fair and just, we have to stop treating social science like an artefact to be brought out and examined only during exams. Maybe swap the lectures for stories and animations that bring the subject alive.
Raising Parents is a monthly column about art and culture ideas to inspire both children and adults.