It is hard to believe that James D. Watson, the Nobel Prize-winning co-discoverer of DNA’s structure, has died at 97 years old. Yet, it is equally astonishing that he was still with us for so long, given that the double-helical structure of DNA was established in 1953—two years before I was born. I am 70 years old this month.
My first degree, from The University of Edinburgh, is in biology with honours in biochemistry, and my PhD was conducted in the Department of Biochemistry at the University of Sheffield. I am deeply aware of the pivotal nature of Watson’s discovery, made alongside Francis Crick and Maurice Wilkins. We’ll return to Rosalind Franklin’s alleged part in the story below.
While I am not related to James Watson, I was once “James Watson-adjacent.” A few years ago, my good friend and colleague at The University of Edinburgh, Professor Ian J Deary OBE FBA, was making me coffee in his office and insisted I take a biscuit from his ever-present tin. I protested that I had just had breakfast, but he waved it in front of me, saying, “Go on, take one.” So, I did. He then told me that two Watsons in a row had taken a biscuit from that tin. The day before, his visitor had been James Watson himself.
How I would have liked to have met the great man. Watson and Crick’s one-page ‘letter’ to Nature is as modestly written as it is brief. Yet, within that single page, the reported discovery was brilliant. It explained how DNA replicates and led to our understanding of the genetic code, which passes biological information between generations and from the nuclei of cells to the proteins that build our bodies, control our metabolism, and help us fight infection.
The most important discoveries in science lead to a genuine ‘Aha!’ moment while also opening new lines of inquiry. In any field, but certainly in biology, I cannot think of a single more revolutionary discovery. We now have the genetic code for entire organisms, including humans, and we are in the early days of gene therapies for genetically determined disorders. The contribution of genetic fingerprinting to forensic science is well-known. These are all spinoffs of the discovery of the double helix.
Having been an Editor-in-Chief of several academic journals in my field, I have given many workshops on academic writing. I am frequently asked about the use of the first person in academic writing. I tend to favour it, and many publishers encourage it. But I am frequently challenged about this—often by people who are not particularly well-published—in strident terms. I point them to Watson and Crick’s 1953 Nature letter, which begins: “We wish to propose a structure for the salt of deoxyribose nucleic acid.” First person plural.
Watson, like his famous partner at Cambridge, Francis Crick, was a confirmed atheist. I don’t know whether the discovery of the double helix cemented that view or if he began his academic career with those beliefs. Of course, the most famous atheist on the planet, Richard Dawkins, relies heavily on the discovery of DNA’s structure and the genetic code to propound his ‘selfish gene’ theory.
I have read the book; the arguments are internally consistent. Indeed, evidence from the animal kingdom suggests that life exists with the sole purpose of bringing forth more life, propagating the genes of the individuals that produce it. Seen this way, bodies—and Dawkins, to whom I have also been ‘adjacent’ (literally, at a dinner)—would include humans. But, applying Thomistic logic to the question of life, none of this addresses the existential question ‘why?’
Nevertheless, to a Roman Catholic like me, none of the atheistic arguments stemming from genetic theory detract from the importance of the double helix’s discovery. Neither do they detract from the man, who before his death—and undoubtedly beyond it—has many detractors.
The first detraction, applying equally to Francis Crick and to some extent Maurice Wilkins, is that Rosalind Franklin did not share in the glory of the discovery. One of her X-ray crystallographic images certainly provided a crucial clue that helped Watson and Crick construct their original model. But, as for sharing the honours, the Nobel Prize can only be shared by three people and, if my understanding is correct, Franklin did not initially grasp the full meaning of the image she had generated.
Perhaps they could have been more generous to her. But they never denied the importance of the image. Whatever the outcome, it left Rosalind Franklin a very bitter woman and, inadvertently, a heroine of the feminist movement. She now has buildings named after her at several universities to honour her indirect contribution, but also as part of an increasingly common effort to correct history. Similarly, honouring the Caribbean Mary Seacole for her supposed contribution to nursing (she made absolutely none) with buildings named after her is motivated by the same impulse.
The second detraction is based on his utterance of an ‘inconvenient truth’ regarding performance on tests of mental ability and its relation to race. He claimed that black people are less intelligent than white people and immediately apologised. Nobody remembers the apology. Before any white supremacists start setting fire to crosses and forming lynch mobs, they need to know that Asians outperform white people on the same tests.
Whatever one thinks of James D. Watson, his contribution to science is beyond question. His name will endure for as long as science is taught. Like many great figures, he stirred controversy; perhaps inevitably so for an intellect that confronted nature at its most fundamental level.
Roger Watson is a retired academic, editor and writer. He writes regularly for a range of conservative journals including The Salisbury Review and The European Conservative. He has travelled and worked extensively in the Far East and the Middle East. He lives in Kingston upon Hull, UK.
This piece was first published in Country Squire Magazine, and is reproduced by kind permission.
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A great man of science.