In the shadows of greatness

How do we define greatness in science? I started pondering this question after responses started coming in to Nature Chemistry‘sunscientific & arbitrary Twitter poll“, asking “Who is the greatest chemist of all time?” The results are now posted on The Skeptical Chymist, the Nature Chemistry blog.

My opening question was sparked by a particular name on the list: Fritz Haber.

Fritz Haber syntheszizes ammonia in the lab. Where's your PPE, Fritz?!? (Image from BASF)

Even if you’re not a chemist, you might have heard of Haber in a general chemistry course. A German chemist, Haber is most widely known for the reaction that bears his name, the Haber or Haber-Bosch process, the first method for synthesizing ammonia from nitrogen and hydrogen gases. It may seem trivial now, but at the time, chemists had been trying to do just that for over a century. Haber and collaborator Robert Le Riossignol found that under high pressure and high temperature, the gases would react to form ammonia. The formation of ammonia was still quite slow, but Haber and Le Riossignol subsequently discovered that the rare metal osmium accelerated the reaction.

Following a successful demonstration of the process, Carl Bosch and Alwin Mittasch, working for Germany’s largest chemical company, BASF, were tasked

with industrializing the process. Being a rare metal, osmium was expensive and its supply limited. Mittasch tried 4000 catalysts and found that a mixture of iron and metal oxides, a much cheaper and more abundant alternative, could be used. The first industrial unit fired up in September 1913, generating up to 5 tons of ammonia every day.

At this scale, ammonia could be readily converted to nitrates, which were (and still are) used in fertilizers and explosives. Prior to industrial production of ammonia, Germany’s primary source of nitrates was saltpeter mines in Chile, a supply expected to be depleted within 30 years. Moreover, supply from the mines was blocked by the British Royal Navy after the start of World War I in 1914. An oft-quoted claim (for which I can find no citation) is that at the start of WWI, Germany’s stockpile of saltpeter could only have supplied munitions for just over a year, and that without the Haber process, Germany would have been forced to end the war in 1916. Jerome Alexander, a chemist of the day, even suggested that “without the Haber process it is doubtful Germany would have started the war, for which she carefully prepared.”

Haber’s impact on the war front did not stop there. Haber was a fierce patriot, devoting his time, intellect, and force to Germany’s war effort, and he was appointed to the War Department for Raw Materials as head of chemistry. By numerous accounts, he lived by his credo, “In peace for mankind, in war for the fatherland!” Realizing that tear gas

From Le Miroir, 1915 (source unknown)

would be ineffectual on the frontlines, Haber recommended using chlorine gas to flush enemy soldiers out of the trenches. He committed to turning this idea to reality, even though it was in direct contravention to the Hague Conventions. He oversaw every aspect of the effort–manufacturing, testing, installation.

The first test on the frontlines came at the second Battle of Ypres, ushering in a new era of warfare. Over 150 tons of chlorine gas were released within 10 minutes in each of two deployments in two days. The result: 15,000 casualties with 5000 dead, including many German soldiers because gas masks did not reach the front prior to the attack.

Haber continued to develop chemical warfare agents and tactics. He was not dissuaded by the suicide of his wife, who considered chemical warfare barbaric (although it’s unclear how much Haber’s work contributed to her suicide).It seems Haber hoped that chemical warfare would bring a swift victory, and thereby an early end to the war. Instead, by the end of the war, both sides were using chemical weapons, contributing to more than 90,000 deaths and over 1 million casualties. Yet even after the war, Haber continued to oversee development and production of chemical agents.

Soldiers drill in their gas masks during WWI. Photographer, unknown. Image from State Library of Queensland.

Haber’s war contributions was at the center of the consternation surrounding the 1918 Nobel Prize in Chemistry (which was not announced until 1920). Here stood a man who months before had been labeled a war criminal (although the charges were dropped), now being lauded for his scientific prowess. The Prize was awarded for “the synthesis of ammonia from its elements“, and the committee highlighted the importance of this accomplishment to agriculture. There was no mention of the use of ammonia for making explosives or of Haber’s campaign for chemical warfare.

And this brings us back to the question: What makes scientists great? Do we consider primarily their greatest scientific contributions? The brilliance and creativity that brought them to the answer for a long-held question, a solution for a problem plaguing the field? Do we focus solely on how their science benefited society?

The boom of human population growth in the last half of the 20th century would have been unsustainable without the Haber process.

The staggering rise in world population over the second half of the twentieth century was supported in part by the Haber-Bosch process. By one estimate (illustrated in graph above), in 2008, almost half the world’s population was sustained by agriculture dependent on fertilizer made from Haber’s ammonia.

Man standing in field of grain, unidentified farm, Washington, ca. 1910. Photographer, Albert Henry. Part of Albert Henry Barnes Photograph Collection at Univ. of Washington Libraries

Sometimes there are alternative uses for scientific discoveries and unforseen consequences. From my readings, the motivation behind Haber’s desire to make ammonia from air remains unclear. Some imply that he pursued this work with the knowledge–and maybe even intention–that it would be used for war. Others are more generous, suggesting he did it to help mankind, and the work was assimilated by others for more nefarious purposes. Max Perutz wrote:

By a terrible irony of fate, it was his apparently most beneficent invention, the synthesis of ammonia, which has also harmed the wold immeasurably. Without it, Germany would have run out of explosives once its long-planned blitzkrieg against France failed. The war would have come to an early end and millions of young men would not have been slaughtered. In these circumstances, Lenin might never have got to Russia, Hitler might not have come to power, the Holocaust might not have happened, and European civilization from Gibraltar to the Urals might have been spared.

Some shell cases on the roadside in the front area, the contents of which have been despatched over into the German lines. Photographer, Tom Aitken. From the National Library of Scotland.

Nonetheless, we should not ignore the dark side of science and its practitioners. How should our perception of the morality of scientists’ actions affect the laud of their work or their standing as the greats of science? Setting aside Haber’s motivation for making ammonia, he had a very good idea of what he was promoting when he began developing toxic gases and delivery methods.

But what of the brilliant minds involved in the making of the atomic bomb? Do we more readily overlook the “sins” of scientists if, later in life, they expressed remorse over their contributions to death and destruction? Do we excuse culpability because we consider a cause just? Is it the level of involvement–whether a scientist was active, complicit, or simply stood by and did nothing–that affects our perspective?

Should we consider the inevitability of a discovery? Does it make a discovery less great–or the blame for negative impact less dire–if others were nipping at their heels? Perutz posited:

Haber’s synthesis of ammonia for fertilizer was an extremely important discovery, but unlike relativity, it did not tak a scientist of unique genius to conceive it; any number of talented chemists could, and no doubt would, have done the same work before very long.

I suspect the same would hold true for chemical warfare. If it hadn’t been Haber, it would have been someone else. And Allied forces responded with similar tactics in turn. Neither point dims Haber’s reputation as the father of chemical warfare, though.

Moving beyond the questionable and destructive work of the great scientists, what of some of the more eccentric ideas or less rigorous investigations of famous scientists? How do these alter our concept of greatness? Haber was one of many who spent years trying to extract gold from seawater.

Linus Pauling, one of the greats but not without his flaws. Photograph from the Smithsonian Institution Archives.

Or consider, as Neil Withers pointed out, Pauling’s promotion of vitamin C as a health remedy. As Perutz noted in an essay on the subject, “It seems tragic that this should have become one of Pauling’s major preoccupations for the last 25 years of his life and spoilt his great reputation as a chemist.” It is worth noting though that Perutz still considered Pauling the greatest chemist of the century, in spite of this failing. Others may feel that great scientists should not have such weaknesses, but I find it easier to pass over these more innocuous shortcomings. In my mind, such idiosyncrasies remind us that these legends were indeed human and, thus, flawed. They also provide cautionary tales of how even the brightest minds can fall into trap of searching for the answer they want to find, rather than the answer the data yield.

These questions are hardly new. But as we consider who the greatest individuals in our field might be, we would do well to contemplate not only their magnificent achievements but also the things that are sometimes hidden in their long shadows.

Additional References & Further Reading

Erisman, J. W.; Sutton, M. A.; Galloway, J.; Klimont, Z.; Winiwarter, W. “How a Century of Ammonia Synthesis Changed the World”. Nat. Geosci. 2008, 1: 636-630. PDF

Friedrich, B. “Fritz Haber”. Published in part in Angewandte Chemie (International Edition) 44, 3957 (2005) and 45, 4053 (2006). PDF

Gibson, A. “Chemical Warfare as Developed During the World War and Probable Future Development” (An Address at the Annual Graduate Fortnight of The New York Academy of Medicine, October 22, 1936). Bull. N. Y. Acad. Med. 1937, 13: 397-421. PDF

Perutz, M. F. “Friend or Foe of Mankind?” and “The Battle Over Vitamin C” “What Holds Molecules Together?” in I Wish I’d Made You Angry Earlier: Essays on Science, Scientists, and Humanity. Cold Spring Harbor, NY: Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory Press, 2003.

“The Nobel Prize in Chemistry 1918”. Nobelprize.org. 22 Jan 2011 http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/chemistry/laureates/1918/

*Where possible, I have listed primary sources of images in their captions. Original digitized versions may be accessed by clicking on the desired image.

Posted in conduct of research, ethics in science, history of science, humanity, responsibilities | Tagged , , | 55 Comments

Feedback on LIMS?

I promise I have a real post that is oh-so-close to being finished. But for the moment, you have to bear with a bit of shameless crowd-sourcing.

In my current postdoc lab, organization and tracking of reagents and supplies is a small disaster, to put it mildly. Since we are now 3 postdocs (woohoo!) and 2 of us are just digging into our new research, it seems an opportune time to get the lab’s shit together. Before futzing around with software too much, I want to know what (if any) management system you’re using in your lab.

We want something that is simple to use, reliable, searchable, efficient… The major use will be for inventorying antibodies, chemicals, supplies, etc. It would also be useful but not necessary to share protocols. We’re not really looking to store lab data, though.

I have a little experience with LabLife, but I’m curious about other systems. I’ve heard about BioKM but am unclear about the advantage it provides that makes it worth the money.

Any feedback on systems you’ve tried would be greatly appreciated 🙂

Posted in lab management, resources | 10 Comments

Christmas Eve Discovery

Ah, the holiday season. I’m taking more time this year than previous ones, because it had been a year since I’d seen my family. Plus the lab is empty, I won’t be getting some key reagents until after the New Year, and my new boss didn’t freak out over any of us taking a couple of weeks off–especially as he is on a different continent out of communication. The trip has gone much as expected. The train ride-our first on Amtrak-was long but fun. Family behavior is within standard parameters. And there isn’t any alcohol, though I could have used some this weekend. There was a surprise white Christmas, that was actually all snow and no ice with sufficient accumulation for a snowball fight and sledding.

Snowfall at the homestead

One of the highlights was seeing my 2-year old niece on Christmas Eve. She’s pretty friggin’ adorable and hilarious. It was fun getting to watch her open presents. Rather than ripping open one and moving to the next as I fully expected, she’d open one and, after she had some help getting it out of the packaging (I mean really, do they have to make it so hard to toys out of the box?), she wanted to play and figure it out. It took coaxing to get her to open another present.

Magna Doodle

The Magna Doodle of my childhood--or at least one very similar. Today the frame is fancier, but it's otherwise unchanged. (Image via Wikipedia)

There were two that held her attention for quite some time. The first was a toy I recall fondly from my childhood: the Magna Doodle, or whatever they’re calling it now. If you were born before the era of this invention, you can write or doodle on it using a magnetic pen or stamps; then, you slide the little bar across the bottom and, like magic, your doodles disappear, leaving a clean space to doodle again. My niece was fascinated by this. She would use one of the stamps to black the entire field, then erase it, giving her dad a quizzical look, as though asking, “How’d it do that?”

The other big hit, much to my pleasure, was the Lift-Off Rocket Playset that Paramed and I gave her. Unbeknownst to me at the time of ordering, it was a fitting gift as her dad (my brother) in great geek fashion is already corrupting her. Earlier in the day, he pointed to a model of the Enterprise, NCC-1701-D (i.e. the one from Star Trek: The Next Generation) and asked her, “What’s that?” She clearly stated, “Starship.” And to think, he gives me a good ribbing about being a geek. Anyhoo, the little rocket makes sounds–which are different when it’s upright vs. on its side–and has compartments for the accompanying astronauts, space dog, and dune buggy, plus a crater and a three-eyed alien. It took all of about 10 seconds showing my niece the doors and sound button before she was moving everyone in the spaceship around, sending the dune buggy rolling, and chasing the dogs around the kitchen with the rocket in tow.

There was something about the way she lit up when she found something new or figured out how to make something work that made me smile. It reminded me of the pure joy of imagination and discovery–the true reason I decided to go into science. It’s perhaps one reason I’m fond of the story of the schoolchildren’s bee project, published in a Royal Society journal.

As Alom Shaha points out, science is a creative process. Sadly, because there is so much pressure that students perform well on standardized tests, much of primary and secondary level teaching is aimed at teaching students the answers to test questions and how to take such tests, rather than showing the beauty and fun that can be found in science.

And honestly, many of us “grown-up” scientists suffer from a similar plight. We become so focused on generating the correct hypothesis, gathering the data to support it, turning it into a publishable manuscript and fundable grant that we lose the wonder. It’s about objective measures of output, e.g. papers and money. We turn science into a formulaic practice, one where deviations from our expectations are met with exasperation instead of curiosity. But the truth is, there is so much in the systems we study that isn’t predictable, that doesn’t line up with previous presumptions. And that’s not a bad thing.

Don’t get me wrong. The scientific method–making an observation, then a prediction, and designing and conducting experiments to falsify the hypothesis–has its place. But rational thinking need not preclude creative thinking. Some of the greatest scientific discoveries grew out of a little creativity applied to accidental observations.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “Science does not know its debt to imagination.” Perhaps I’ve already grown cynical, but the current system–at educational and research levels–rarely acknowledges or rewards imagination (a view shared by at least one other person, as Andrea Kusweski shares in this fantastic post). I, for one, want to keep the childlike joy of discovery and the imagination that goes with it, even when it comes to “serious” research. And I want to share that element of this science thing with my little niece as she gets older. I have no plans to turn her into a scientist (unless that’s what she wants ;)), but I do want her to know how much we owe to an inquisitive nature and creativity–maybe with the hope she’ll understand why I love and stick with a career that can be brutal at times.

Posted in attitudes, barriers, career decisions, family, for the love of science, science education, science satisfaction | 6 Comments

The difficulty of personal statements

What is it about writing personal statements that make the mind come to a screeching halt?

It has been 8 years since I have had to write a personal statement for something on a professional level, at least having it described as such. I am now preparing an application for a mentored career development award, a mechanism intended to prepare trainees for independent research careers. The new-ish NIH biosketch format requires a personal statement explaining why I am “well-suited” for this award. In addition, major sections of the application focus on my background and potential to become an independent investigator.

I feel like I’m spinning my wheels. Sometimes I have trouble talking about myself: knowing what to say, how to brag without coming off as arrogant, how to provide appropriate acknowledgement to influential individuals without appearing as a wallflower. I know how to talk about my research, but the people reviewing this will be looking for more than “I like science, and I’m good at research.” It seems to me that the major question isn’t “Can you do great science?” but “Can you–with a bit more training and mentoring–grow to lead others in doing great science?”

Outside of the science, what does it take to be a leader? In my mind, leadership requires striking a balance between being receptive to ideas of team members but also knowing when to be assertive and say, “This is what we’re doing.” Being too controlling creates a dictatorship where people are unhappy and unmotivated; being too diffident creates a disparate and unfocused environment where nothing gets done. It requires innovation and creativity. You have to have a vision for your program, with short- and long-term goals and a strategy for accomplishing them. You have to demonstrate commitment to that program but not be so inflexible as to continue down a path against all indications that it’s a dead end. It means being willing to take risks but also knowing when to cut your losses and abandon a fruitless effort, even when it’s your pet hypothesis. You have to be able to communicate your vision and strategy to your supervisors, peers, subordinates, and granting agencies, to get them excited about it. And you must be able to execute the strategy, organize the people and resources ot achieve the goal. You must have integrity because those above and below you must be able to trust you. I also think that the best leaders are also good mentors.

How do I show that I possess or am capable of developing and honing those traits? This is where I’m getting stuck. This is where I have to dissect my life to date. What can I draw out of experiences in graduate school, my first “failed” postdoc, and my new postdoc to demonstrate my leadership potential? Is there more outside experience I can bring in to highlight particular skills? And how do I accomplish all this without treading the same ground as those before me and without sounding cliché and/or self-satisfied?

Or am I just making this much more difficult than it should be?

Fire away. In the meantime, I’m going to try to get some professionally productive writing done. Sigh.

Posted in grants | 10 Comments

12 Months of Biochembelle

First, a little bloggy business: As you probably know by now, I decided to stop blogging at LabSpaces (you can find my farewell post there) and will be posting all my ramblings here. I’ve been archiving my LabSpaces posts here tonight, so apologies for the entries you’ve already seen that are popping up in Google Reader.

Now, onto bloggy fun: It’s that time of year again–the time the DrugMonkey dredges up the Twelve Months of (fill-in-the-blank) meme. The rules are simple: Post the link and first sentence of the first blog entry of each month. A couple of mine aren’t technically the first post, because the first was a call or reminder for carnival posts or a note about moving. Also posts for Aug., Sept., and Oct. were originally posted at LabSpaces, so if you want to check out comments, head over there.

So here goes:

Jan – I am back from my unintended blog vacation.

Feb – “I can’t believe that’s a paper.”

March – Paramed  and I got into a not-so-little tiff last night.

April – Sustaining a career in science–whether at or away from the bench–takes a lot, in fact much more than you think starting off.

May – It goes without saying, There’s a massive set of skills that you need to succeed and to move forward in science that you’ll never learn in a classroom.

June – Every research scientist has his or her own reasons for choosing a research path.

July – For reasons that might be discussed at a later date, I am looking for a new job.

Aug – Genomic Repairman, it seems, is a fanboy of NCI Director Harold Varmus.

Sept – With his daily music posts, Genomic Repairman has clearly demonstrated that scientists can possess a great love of music.

Oct – Everyone has a different approach, and approaches vary between career stages (e.g. undergrad, grad student, postdoc…).

Nov – One of my favorite new blogs this year is Retraction Watch, written by Adam Marcus and Ivan Oransky, both carrying substantial science editing and journalism credentials.

Dec – Women–in many arenas–are often not as readily recognized or recalled as men in the same arenas.

If you blog, consider yourself tagged 🙂

Posted in blogging, meme | Tagged | 4 Comments