Lunch with Rupert Sheldrake

We had talked at a party at the Royal Society, and I liked him and was curious. So I went round for lunch at his house in Hampstead. One glorious anecdote emerged: in 1963 he was finishing his degree at Cambridge when Sydney Brenner and Francis Crick held a seminar for the eight brightest students of the year to persuade them to become molecular biologists.

Brenner’s pitch was this: “There are two great problems left to science. One is development and the other is consciousness. The reason that neither has been solved is that the people working on them are stupid. But now we have cracked the genetic code, we are going to finish them. Francis is going to take consciousness and I am going to take development. We will have them solved in ten years. Who wants to come along for the ride?”

But Sheldrake went off to do plant biology instead. I have no reason to doubt the story. It is entirely consistent with everything we know about the attitude of molecular biologists in general and Sydney in particular in 1963 and makes a nice book-end to Jim Watson’s remark, recorded in E.O. Wilson’s autobiography, that anyone who would hire an ecologist was out of his mind.

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switch doctoring

I have been fascinated by placebos ever since the late Pat Wall gave a talk about them at a symposium on consciousness in the early Nineties. It was very small and very select; the report of the procedings costs an astonishing $160, and I am atill not quite sure how I was smuggled in there. We had Dennett, Searle, Tom Nagel, Tony-Marcel-who-cannot-stop-talking, Nick Humphrey, Maggie Boden, Colin McGinn …

In any case, Wall gave a wonderful talk about placebos which cured me forever of the temptation to suppose that consciousness can be an epiphenomenon. The point is that placebos work only when people consciously and whole-heartedly believe in them. Then they produce changes in thebody’s working far below the level of consciousness. They don’t just remove pain. They remove inflammation. Placebo treatment of heart patients improves their performace on the treadmill.

One of the stories he told, which is now a classic, was of a doctor in the Korean War, who developed acute appendicitis during a surgical marathon and had his nurse inject him with morphine so he could go onworking before going onto the table himself. Only after his own surgery did he discover that they had run out of morphine, and she had shot him up with saline solution instead. Yet the pain had vanished completely, and he had been able to work for another two hours.

Now comes the most astonishing twist on this experiment, from the New Scientist.

DON’T try this at home. Several times a day, for several days, you induce pain in someone. You control the pain with morphine until the final day of the experiment, when you replace the morphine with saline solution. Guess what? The saline takes the pain away.

This is the placebo effect: somehow, sometimes, a whole lot of nothing can be very powerful. Except it’s not quite nothing. When Fabrizio Benedetti of the University of Turin in Italy carried out the above experiment, he added a final twist by adding naloxone, a drug that blocks the effects of morphine, to the saline. The shocking result? The pain-relieving power of saline solution disappeared.

Wall himself died of cancer, a few years back. I talked to him while he was in remission. The pain of cancer, he said, serves no useful purpose at all.

Posted in Science without worms | 4 Comments

Spring is here

I know this, because I have started sneezing at 5.30 every morning and the ladybirds

This is glorious full size: click and wonder

are making shyly indecent suggestions to each other.

Also because my walks by the river have shown the first rabbit, the first heron, innumerable wrens and chaffinches, three long-tailed tits (which I have never seen outside a childhood bird book) and, one freakishly warm and sunny day, two plump trout basking as their reward for surviving winter. But the most beautiful thing I’ve seen was still autumnal.

Lacy old leaf.jpg

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For the sake of argument

Armand-Marie Leroi had an op-ed in the NYT last week, plugging his interview on the Brockman website Edge. In general, he argued that scientists ought to recognise race and research it, contra gloomy old obscurantists like Stephen J Gould. I thought I would be the first person to defend Steve Gould on Edge. The results are below the fold, since I suspect there is very little overlap between the readership here and there.

Continue reading

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letters to learn

Some weeks ago I wrote about the IDN vulnerabilities in Opera and Firefox. These arise from the fact that many unicode letters resemble one another. Now there is a quick visual illustration of the size of the problem — someone has made a wallchart containing all the characters so far assigned in Unicode. It’s 12′ by 6′. There is a torrent too, if you a spare wall and a friendly print shop.

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self-promotion

My most recent Analysis programme went out last night. It will be repeated on Sunday, at 9.30 pm; and can be heard for the next week or so on the web.

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I get around

But I had never realised quite what a zelig I am until I looked at this search engine, found through John Batelle, who seems to hold down many fewer jobs.

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Creative mashup

Here’s another reason to believe that Billmon is the most skilled journalist among all the regular bloggers. It’s also damn frightening.

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Sextator notes

I walked round to the Spectator yesterday afternoon to dig out some old cuts of mine from the library. The receptionist/librarian, a pretty girl in her twenties, let me in and handed me a couple of the bound volumes stacked two deep behind her. While I was making the painful discovery of what a pompous, arrogant little prick I was in 1981, Michael Heath came in and we did the dance of old farts reminiscing. I hadn’t been in the Spec offices since about 1995, even for parties, though there was a time when I almost lived there. “Nothing has changed”, he said, though we were both fatter, and neither of us smoke any more.
“Well,” I said. “There seems to be a lot more vigour around the office. The first thing I noticed was that the librarian was reading the Marquis de Sade” — which she was, in a cheap paperback edition from OUP. “Oh, it’s dreadful” she said, rallying as best she could. “Absolutely nothing happens. There’s been two people shot, but that’s all.”

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Lonesome dove

The FWB read Lonesome Dove in about 20 hours: not bad for 925 pages; her brother, when he heard the news, said “Well, if times get hard, you can always sell her for medical research.” It took me a little longer, because of distractions like work. But it has been years since I found a book I wanted to read in such huge gulps. There are a couple of rough patches, but the size and strangeness of the frontier comes over wonderfully. Whan I had finished, I went off and bought a year’s worth of USGS maps to find out where it all happened. All Mapquest and Google maps show you of a place are the roads and the advertisements. It’s extraordinary to realise that the prairies and the rivers have vanished even from the maps.

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