kw: book reviews, nonfiction, science, history of science, scientists, biographies, inquisition, polemics
At the defense of my PdD dissertation, one prominent professor growled, "This isn't geology, it is computer science." To a certain extent, he was right. I was surprised that he was the one to say it, though, for among the faculty he was the most computer-literate. I had used a great deal of computer modeling and simulation in conjunction with my research. This was 1983, and the geology faculty in general were much more comfortable out in the field with a rock hammer than they were poking at a computer terminal connected to a mainframe computer hidden away in the basement of the Electrical Engineering building. Desktop personal computers were rare. On the other hand, I was quite computer literate, and I was at that time an adjunct professor of computer science.
I had spent a few years of research to determine what effect directional heat flow in Earth's crust might have on the emplacement of "gneiss domes" such as the Black Hills of South Dakota. My supervising professor and I went all over the Black Hills to gather specimens of rocks that had originally underlain the domed structure and rocks in the lowest layers above the granitic/gneiss core of the Hills.
The ratio of heat flow across the grain, versus along the grain, is the thermal anisotropy. For a pure, platy mineral such as mica, I found that this ratio could be as high as 6:1. For the shales and schists in the lower sections of the Black Hills, I measured thermal anisotropy between 1.2:1 and 1.6:1. The initial discussions of the early results with my committee were not encouraging. I did a series of computer simulations which showed that the excess heating caused just by thermal anisotropy was no more than a few degrees.
As it happened, I spent time that summer on a project about fluid flow. Another graduate student and I found that the anisotropy of fluid flow in layered rocks could be quite high, 10:1 to 100:1 and even greater. Any fluid flowing through these rocks would be very strongly affected by this directional fabric, and the solid-rock thermal anisotropy wouldn't matter at all. As a side project, the student and I dug into literature and studies about fluid flow in the crust. We determined that even in "dry rock" there is water, and it is in motion, and if there is any heat flow it is directed almost entirely by fluid flow. This was new; there was no literature on this particular point.
Therefore, I wrote a dissertation in which I stated that my initial theory was not tenable, and that further study would be needed to quantify the results of anisotropy in fluid flow. This was quite unpopular and it apparently stepped on a few toes. It was "this stuff" that caused my committee along with the other gathered faculty to reject my dissertation. I became, not a PhD, but AbD, "all but dissertation". Coda: I had an established relationship with scientists at a national laboratory in California. I passed my materials on to them, and they were glad to have them.
With such a background, I was well primed to receive Matt Kaplan's historical survey of scientific mavericks in I Told you So! Scientists Who Were Ridiculed and Imprisoned for Being Right.
The book is in part a biography of Ignaz Semmelweis, the best-known of those who learned how necessary it is to clean a doctor's hands and equipment before treating a patient. Semmelweis was also the one who seems to have suffered the most for it. The various parts of his life story are woven with others. The book opens with a scene in which a graduate student named Alison, at a poster session, is being shouted into submission by a gaggle of offended professors. Her sin? Being right. Theirs? Feeling threatened by the truth. It costs something to learn something new that reveals the flaws in older ideas.
One scientist who didn't fall prey to this phenomenon was Louis Pasteur. He had the political acumen to make sure he had powerful friends when needed, he was a showman who used public demonstrations (thoroughly prepared beforehand) to publicize his ideas, and he was careful to tailor his presentations to make it seem like his discoveries came as flashes of insight, where in reality he labored long and hard upon them.
The author tells stories of others, including friends and acquaintances, who survived being right only because of more established mentors, and by finally "being right" in a sufficiently public way that could not be denied. Katalin (Kati) Karikó and Drew Weissman received the Nobel Prize in 2023 for working out the therapeutic use of mRNA agents, which led to the "vaccines" used during the Covid-19 pandemic. But Kati had rough going for many years, suffering abusive supervisors and disdainful department heads. Somehow, she plowed through, and collaborations such as that with Dr. Weissman kept her work going. Many others have been less fortunate. Alison left science, as have several others mentioned in the book.
Being right is not enough to ensure being received. Max Planck is known for saying that science proceeds one funeral at a time. My father used to speak of the "Moses Effect", meaning that it takes 40 years in the wilderness for a generation to die out so a new generation can make progress.
Semmelweis seems to have had no such advantages, and many disadvantages. He was not the only doctor to learn the value of chlorine-laced wash water for disinfection. But in his own hospital, he seems to have had the knack for presenting his findings in a way that didn't just challenge other doctors, including his supervisor, he actually indicted them along with himself for killing thousands of young mothers through ignorance.
Arthur C. Clarke's "first law of science" is, "When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong." The trouble is, the distinguished and elderly scientists usually stopped having good ideas half a lifetime ago and feel threatened by the next generation.
These days, it may seem we have moved beyond the times of Galileo, who had to stand before the Holy Office of the Inquisition for saying that Earth moves. Scientists these days don't have the rack or a team of archers to deal with mavericks. But they do have powerful weapons to destroy us anyway. Today, money runs science, in a way much more pervasive than ever before. The "old guard" controls the flow of money, which determines who can afford to do experiments, and who must find a different profession.
I think of two doctors I knew well. One, named Henry, was a radiation oncologist. He once said he could cure most cases of breast cancer, at lower cost than chemotherapy. However, most patients get steered toward chemo rather than radiation. When I asked why, he just rubbed two fingers together, the sign for "money". The other doctor, named Benjamin, is a friend I once asked about how thyroid issues affect fertility. He said, "One third of infertility cases are due to low thyroid, but it is the last thing tested, when it is tested at all." Of course I asked why, and he said, "Treating low thyroid is the cheapest remedy."
In the last chapter the author discusses possible remedies for the prejudice-dominated grant-awarding process. While he has some good ideas, including ideas that are being used on a small scale, he recognizes that government action would be needed to motivate widespread change. Given the huge pharmaceutical and medical lobbying that goes on, useful change is unlikely. I fear that Max Planck was only partly correct, because he said "one funeral at a time." It takes several.
I think of Ignaz Semmelweis and the other pilloried scientists as being like Jeremiah: never wrong; never believed.
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