There’s a smell in Battersea, south-west London. Today, there are streams of the internet devoted to a whiff of toast commuters notice on the train over the river. It’s something to do with local coffee roasters, apparently. But in the early 1970s, the area was very different economically, and the stink wasn’t nearly so pleasant. The strong stench – described at the time as “like dead bodies” – was colloquially known as “The Battersea Smell”.

There was various speculation about causes. Most likely was that the stench came from one or two local factories – the gin distillers John Watney and Co and the glucose manufacturers Garton Sons and Co. But no one really knew. Moreover, the local council seemed to be actively avoiding trying to find out, and avoiding attempting to do much about it.

As a local paper at the time noted, “We can get to the moon, phone relatives in Australia, perform miracles of surgery but a simple matter like getting rid of a smell seems to baffle everyone.”

Residents were especially annoyed as the local council insisted they use (expensive) smokeless fuel to cut air pollution yet seemed to do nothing about the stink. They suspected that the council found the jobs and rates revenue offered by the factories too important to risk.

In 1972, a group of scientist-activists decided to make the smell an early project in ‘community science’. Called the British Society for Social Responsibility in Science (BSSRS or ‘Bizrus’ to their friends), they wanted to see if a bit of grassroots research could help unlock the mystery.

They started by contacting two housewives on a local estate who were leading a protest; then they met with the tenants’ association and the local doctor, as well as the local councillors and the Vicar of Battersea. The next step was a survey of residents’ experiences of the smell, which BSSRS hoped would both collect some of the missing information and put pressure on the local council for more research, and possibly more action.

Their survey returned over 400 responses. Only 2 per cent had failed to notice the smell, and attitudes to it ranged from neutral (2 per cent) to very annoyed (67 per cent). It was described as sickening, nauseating, and “so overpowering that even a skunk would have to be equipped with breathing apparatus”. People said they felt embarrassed to have friends visit. Pregnant women complained it caused vomiting and headaches. People with asthma said it aggravated their condition. The survey had, at least, helped establish it was a problem.

Publicity about the survey – and a petition that ran alongside it – helped fuel more press coverage. Finally, the council health committee decided to send a deputation to Gartons, who agreed to make plans to reduce the smell, thus at least implicitly admitting responsibly for causing it, which they had previously tried to deny. Locals felt the distillery contributed too – not as consistently but more powerfully when it did – and had maybe escaped most of the criticism. But overall, things seemed to improve.

Partly inspired by the experience, BSSRS staff member David Dickson later wrote in New Scientist magazine calling for “Community Science Resource Councils”. The idea, which sadly never took off, was a sort of scientific equivalent of legal aid. It would have provided scientific knowledge and technical expertise to minority and under-represented groups, and also allowed them a greater chance to shape what questions get asked and answered by science. “Perhaps the greatest gain would be in public education,” he wrote. “Members of the community would be able to answer back.”

People today often call for evidence-based policies, but the problem is that the power to collect evidence isn’t evenly distributed. In the 1970s, BSSRS worked to change this – and build a science for the people.