As an admirer of Socrates and a biology teacher in the Brazilian Amazon, I have always found myself drawn to the question of life's origins. Of all the topics within the discipline, it is the one that unsettles me most. Perhaps because it resists definitive answers. Or perhaps because, in the face of that absence, scientific rigour does not eliminate the question but instead gives it new forms. Teaching, then, also becomes an exercise in inquiry. It was from one of these persistent questions that another emerged and remained with me for a long time: how to teach the origin of life in culturally diverse contexts?
I learned from Bruno Latour that groups do not exist as fixed and definitive entities. They are continually reassembled. An alliance that appears solid in one debate may dissolve in another. Those who stand together in defending a particular position on climate change may find themselves on opposing sides when the discussion turns to the origin of life. In multicultural contexts, this dynamic becomes even more delicate. What is at stake is not merely a clash of ideas, but also different ways of understanding the world, identities, religious traditions, and diverse ways of making sense of human experience.
In bringing together eight lessons on teaching the origin of life in a theoretical and reflective essay, it seemed central to preserve the secular character of biology education. This meant avoiding the common tendency to limit the conversation to just one of the major religious traditions. The Brazilian Amazon reminded me of this constantly. It is home to many Indigenous peoples, each with their own narratives about the world and its origins—narratives that themselves vary and are transmitted and interpreted in different ways.
It was in this context that I encountered narratives from the Waiãpi people, who live in the region surrounding the Tumucumaque Mountains National Park, the largest protected area of tropical rainforest on the planet. Some elements of Waiãpi narratives can be brought into dialogue with topics commonly addressed in lessons on the origin of life, including spontaneous generation. I returned to this example in Lesson 5, which explores the contributions of different disciplines to the teaching of this subject.
When interdisciplinarity is discussed in the teaching of the origin of life, the conversation often remains close to biology itself. Chemistry and physics tend to be the most immediate interlocutors. Yet other perspectives can also broaden the discussion. Narratives drawn from different cultural traditions, for instance, invite us to examine assumptions that often go unnoticed. There is no guarantee that such encounters will lead to genuine dialogue. Even so, they may create opportunities to question forms of ethnocentrism that so often obstruct intercultural understanding.
Just as different peoples have their own narratives about the origin of life, biology itself accommodates more than one theory on the subject. Although the theory of the evolution of chemical systems, proposed by Aleksandr Oparin and John Haldane, remains the most widely accepted within the scientific community, some scientists argue that life arrived on Earth via comets, a theory known as cometary panspermia. The coexistence of these perspectives helps illuminate Lesson 4, which emphasises the importance of including in biology education not only the theories that currently command the greatest support, but also those that have lost prominence or continue to occupy minority positions, much as is already done in the teaching of evolution.
Engaging with such a wide range of perspectives requires an openness to controversy (Lesson 2). Without it, the debate risks being reduced to a form of activism. Here, I draw on the Brazilian philosopher and educator Paulo Freire, who argued that activism is often sustained by half-truths and slogans rather than the critical reflection that characterises genuine political commitment. For this reason, such an approach has no place in lessons on the origin of life (Lesson 3).
Amid these controversies, it is not uncommon to encounter fallacies that simplify or misrepresent scientific theories, as well as the narratives of different peoples. Lesson 6 therefore advocates consulting primary sources, despite the challenges often involved in obtaining and interpreting certain documents. The same objective can also be pursued through another route: gaining a better understanding of the backstage of science. Lesson 7 draws attention to the ideological influences, geopolitical contexts, and experimental practices that contribute to the production of scientific knowledge about the origin of life. Such information does not always appear in the scientific literature. Even so, access to primary sources and a closer view of the research process can help students identify distorted interpretations that circulate today, while also enabling a more accurate understanding of how particular claims were originally formulated.
Finally, we return to Socrates, for one of the most important lessons is the practice of questioning itself (Lesson 8). Science does not demand radical scepticism. If everything were doubted at all times, little would remain beyond doubt itself. What science calls for is something different: a moderate scepticism, capable of turning the question back upon oneself. Not only towards the claims made by those on the other side of a controversy, but also towards one's own concepts, convictions, and conclusions.
As I brought the essay to a close, I became concerned that the number of lessons might give the impression that teaching the origin of life is a bureaucratic or excessively complex undertaking. That was never my intention. Rather, I sought to share reflections that emerged from my experience as a biology teacher. Over the years, I have turned to books and scientific papers in search of ways to approach this subject with greater cultural responsibility and critical awareness. The aim has always been a simple one: to make lessons more meaningful and less stressful for students.
The publication of this essay in the journal Cultural Studies of Science Education now opens up a new possibility. I hope this provocation encourages dialogue among biology teachers from different countries. After all, no reflection on teaching is ever complete in itself. The opportunity to engage with other experiences may extend some of the reflections presented here and bring new questions into the discussion.