Jonathan Singer and the Cranky Book

An eminent scientist at the end of his career writes out his thoughts and preoccupations.

Jonathan Singer was a famous scientist at my graduate school. I did not interact with him, but he played a role in attracting me to the program, as I was interested in biological membranes at the time. Singer himself studied with Linus Pauling, and they were the first to identify a human mutation in a specific gene as a cause for a specific disease- sickle cell disease. After further notable work in electron microscopy, he reached a career triumph by developing, in 1972, the fluid mosaic model of biological membranes. This revolutionized and clarified the field, showing that cells are bounded by something incredibly simple- a bilayer of phospholipids that naturally order themselves into a remarkably stable sheet, (a bubble, one might say), all organized by their charged headgroups and hydrophobic fatty tails. This model also showed that proteins would be swimming around freely in this membrane, and could be integrated in various ways, ether lightly attached on one side, or spanning it completely, thereby enabling complex channel and transporter functions. The model implied the typical length of a protein alpha helix that, by virtue of its hydrophobic side chains, would naturally be able to do this spanning function- a prediction that was spot-on. He could have easily won a Nobel for this work.

I was intrigued when I learned recently that Singer had written a book near the end of his career. It is just the kind of thing that a retired professor loves to do in the sunset of his career, sharing the wisdom and staving off the darkness by taking a stab at the book biz. And Singer's is a classic of the form- highly personal, a bit stilted, and ultimately meandering. I will review some of its high points, and then take a stab of my own at knitting together some of the interesting themes he grapples with.

For at base, Singer turns out to be a spiritual compadre of this blog. He claims to be a rationalist, in a world where, as he has it, no more than 9% of people are rational. Definition? It is the poll question of whether one believes that god created man, rather than the other way around. Singer recognizes that the world around him is crazy, and that the communities he has been a part of have been precious oases amid the general indifference and grasping of the world. But changing it? He is rather fatalistic about that, recognizing that reason is up against overwhelming forces.

His specific themes cover a great deal of biology, and then some more mystical reflections on balance and diversity in biology, and later, in capitalism and politics. He points out that the nature/nurture debate has been settled by twin studies. Nature, which is to say, genetics, is the dominant influence on human characteristics, including a wide variety of psychological traits, including intelligence. Environment and nurture is critical for reaching one's highest potential, and for using it in socially constructive ways, but the limits of that potential are largely set by one's genes. Singer does not, however, draw the inevitable conclusion from these observations, which is that some kind of long-term eugenic approach would be beneficial to our collective future, assuming machines do not replace us forthwith. Biologists know that very small selective coefficients can have very big effects, so nothing drastic is needed. But what criteria to use- that is the sticky part. Just as success in the capitalist system hardly signals high moral or personal qualities, nor does incarceration by the justice system always show low ones. It is virtually an insoluble problem, so we muddle along, destined probably for continued cycles of Spenglerian civilizational collapse.

Turning to social affairs, Singer settles on "structural chaos" as his description of how the scientific enterprise works, and how capitalism at large works. With a great deal of waste, and misdirected effort, it nevertheless ends up providing good results- better than those that top-down direction can provide. He seems a sigh a little that "scientific" methods of social organization, such as those in Soviet Russia, were so ineffective, and that the best we can do is to muddle along with the spontaneous entrepreneurship and occasional flashes of innovation that push the process along. Not to mention the "monstrous vulgarity" of advertising, etc. Likewise, democracy is a mess, with most people totally incapable of making the reasoned decisions needed to maintain it. Again, the chaos of democracy is sadly the best we can do, and the duty of rational people, in Singer's view, is to keep alive the flame of intellectual freedom while outside pressures constantly threaten.

Art, and science.

What can we do with this? I think that the unifying thread that Singer was grasping for was competition. One can frame competition as a universal principle that shapes the physical, biological, and social worlds. Put two children on a teeter-totter, and you can see how physical forces (e.g. gravitation) compete all the time, subtly producing equilibria that characterize the universe. Chemical equilibria are likewise a product of constant competition, even including the perpetual jostling of phospholipids to find their lowest energy configuration amidst the biological membrane bilayer, which has the side-effect of creating such a stable, yet highly flexible, structure. With Darwin, competition reaches its apotheosis- the endless proliferation, diversification, and selection of organisms. Singer marvels at the fragility of individual life, at the same time that life writ large is so incredibly durable and prolific. Well, the mechanism behind that is competition. And naturally, economics of any free kind, including capitalism and grant-making in science, are based on competition as well- the natural principle that selects which products are useful, which employees are productive, and which technologies are helpful. Waste is part of the process, as diversity amidst excess production is the essential ingredient for subsequent selection. 

And yet.. something is missing. The earth's biosphere would still be a mere bacterial soup if competition were the only principle at work. Bacteria (and their viruses) are the most streamlined competition machines- battlebots of the living world. It took cooperation between a bacterial cell and an archaeal cell to make a revolutionary new entity- the eukaryotic cell. It then took some more cooperation for eukaryotic cells to band together into bodies, making plants and animals. And among animals, cooperation in modest amounts provides for reproduction, family structure, flock structures, and even complex insect societies. It is with humans that cooperation and competition reach their most complex heights, for we are able to regulate ourselves, rationally. We make rules. 

Without rules, human society is anarchic mayhem- a trumpian, dystopian and corrupt nightmare. With them, it (ideally) balances competition with cooperation to harness the benefits of each. Our devotion to sports can be seen as a form of rule worship, and explicit management of the competitive landscape. Can there be too many rules? Absolutely, there are dangers on both sides. Take China as an example. In the last half-century, it revamped its system of rules to lower the instability of political competition, harness the power of economic competition, and completely transformed its society. 

The most characteristic and powerful human institution may be the legislature, which is our ongoing effort to make rational rules regulating how the incredibly powerful motive force of competition shapes our lives. Our rules, in the US, were authored, at the outset, by the founders, who were- drumroll please- rationalists. To read the Federalist Papers is to see exquisite reasoning drawing on wide historical precedent, and particularly on the inspirations of the rationalist enlightenment, to formulate a new set of rules mediating between cooperation and competition. Not only were they more fair than the old rules, but they were designed for perpetual improvement and adjustment. The founding was, at base, a rationlist moment, when characters like Franklin, Hamilton, Madison, and Jefferson- deists at best and rationalists through and through, led the new country into a hopeful, constitutional future. At the current moment, two hundred and fifty years on, as our institutions are being wantonly destroyed and anything resembling reason, civility, and truth is under particularly vengeful attack, we should appreciate and own that heritage, which informs a true patriotism against the forces of darkness.

• Bill Mitchell on AI.
• How this drives politics.
• And can thought survive against an onslaught of slop?
• Paul Krugman on abasement.
• Is evil lack of religion, or too much religion?