Memoir of a Thinking Radish

by Peter Medawar

Book Overview

"Science," writes Sir Peter Medawar, "is incomparably the most successful enterprise human beings have ever engaged upon." In this brief, brilliant book the Nobel laureate explores the nature and... This description may be from another edition of this product.

• Format: Hardcover
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0192830481
• ISBN13: 9780192830487
• Release Date: January 1986
• Publisher: Oxford University Press, USA
• Length: 128 Pages
• Weight: 0.28 lbs.

Customer Reviews

Clever quips

Although it begins "This is a serious book", this is not a serious book. Its first two essays do not even pretend to be serious but are instead concerned with such things as quipping about "the incredulous derision" with which a modern-day grant-giving body would have greeted "a research proposal 'to discover a means of making human flesh transparent'" in 1900 (p. 46), and quoting a 17th century Shadwell play on the tension between pure and applied science: "When the curtain goes up, Sir Nicholas Gimcrack is seen making froglike swimming movements on the table in his workroom. Does he intend to swim in the water? ... Never, sir; I hate the water. I content myself with the speculative part of swimming and care not for the practical." (p. 8). The third and "principal" (p. xii) essay at least has serious claims in it, but its arguments are so utterly underdeveloped that it can hardly be called an essay at all. The main claim is that "there is an intrinsic, built-in limitation upon the growth of scientific understanding" (p. 59), stemming from "the Law of Conservation of Information, which runs as follows: No process of logical reasoning---no mere act of mind or computer-programmable operation---can enlarge the information content of the axioms and premises or observation statements from which it proceeds." (p. 79). Medawar's only proof of this law is to debunk a possible counter-argument: if science could reach inductive conclusions of the type "all swans are white" then the law would be false, for the statement says more than the totality of observations that prompted it. But it is not credible to admit such induction as science (p. 80). For one thing, "Our sense of the fitness of things is offended by the idea that an induction such as 'All swans are white' can be corroborated by the discovery in a trash heap of an old black boot, yet so it is: for if all swans are white, if follows logically that all non-white objects are non-swans. If, then, any black object is discovered which anxious scrutiny shows not to be a swan, then we have confirmed a logical prediction from a hypothesis and given ourselves an extra incentive to believe in it." (p. 15). From Medawar's law it apparently follows, in some manner not further explicated, that science cannot answer "ultimate questions" such as "what is the point of living?" (p. 66), and that to answer such questions from within science is as impossible as "to deduce from the axioms and postulates of Euclid a theorem to do with how to cook an omelet or bake a cake" (p. 82). Medawar further maintains that there are no other limits on the growth of science, which he also purports to prove by equally lightweight arguments. For example, increased specialisation is not a problem because "There were always sciences and there were always arts, and no one man knew them all---no one man ever had the know-how to make glass, brew beer, dress leather, make paper and cast a bell" (p. 71). That Newton did not know how to bre

Risible aspects of a life

To begin at the end, Peter Medawar concludes "despite its vicissitudes, my life has by no means been without its risible aspects." That is how we know him, because that is how he presented himself in a series of books, notably "Pluto's Republic": a vastly intelligent, ironic, sardonic skewerer of silly egos. Well, that and his Nobel Prize for discovering immunological resistance. In 1986, at age 71 and slowed by a series of strokes, he composed a brief, episodic "life" that is not, as he says, so much a history of his life as a chance to express opinions about things. It is his willingness to express opinions -- some original, some oft-thought but seldom expressed -- that keeps all Medawar's popular writings so fresh. And his courage. Not many -- probably not any -- other well-known public figure in England would go public with his remarks about the sadism of the homosexual nurses who plagued him in a rehabilitation hospital after his first stroke. We can take it as read that the sadism was real; Medawar, of all people, would not make it up. He also has at snobismus, disparagers of the National Health Service (the greatest social innovation in the past 150 years, he says, apparently dating from the revision of the Poor Laws), communism, racism (as the son of Lebanese Maronite, he ran up against it), and many others. Medawar pulls no punches. He was a great admirer of Karl Popper and judged the later generation of philosophers "mavericks and clowns." A just assessment despite the disrepute that Logical Positivism also enjoys now. It is thus startling to discover that even Medawar nods. I do not share his enthusiasm for opera, which is neither here nor there; but his distaste for Gilbert is strangely stated. He finds Sullivan's music mediocre but Gilbert's librettos callous in their treatment of old maids. Maybe so, but it is odd for him to say the cruelty came about because of a well-known demographic shortage of marrying men in the middle classes. Whatever can he mean by that? Yes, there was a shortaage when he started attending G & S productions, but there was no slaughter of men in the 1840s and `50s that would have affected Gilbert's or his audiences' attitudes in the `70s and `80s. Very strange. It is also a shock to find Medawar, usually so careful and skeptical, falling for the claptrap of Amory and Hunter Lovins. That he would admire such Luddites is particularly perplexing in light of his genial acceptance of scientific progress. The Lovinses are not about either progress or science. Strange bedfellows.

Excellent Work!

This has to be my single favorite work of philosophy of science. Medawar explains some principles limiting science and influencing its growth in easy to understand language. He seems to honestly wrestle with the material, giving it a meaningful treatment.

Brief description of The Limits of Science

In this small book of essays, Nobel laureate, Sir Peter Medawar defines what science is and what it is not. Using a familiar and engaging voice, he addresses some of the big questions about science, revealing its true nature to the learned scientist and the novice alike.

An autobiography both modest and hilarious

It's unfortunate that this book is out of print. Medewar won the 1960 Nobel Prize for his research in tissue transplantation, and later wrote extensively on science and scientific method (see his other books, esp. Pluto's Republic).This book is autobiographical and, as the author suggests, is not so much a life story as a series "of opinions which my life can be regarded as a pretext for holding." Well-written, lucid, with many wonderful descriptions of the humor and fun which came with his life. He looks back on his life with a degree of indulgent joy; as successful as it was, it was the journey, not the destination, which he enjoyed.If you feel that the education system is not geared for you, yet you hunger for what an education can provide, this book will give you hope. Medewar succeeded despite the education system, rather than because of it.This book has some strong opinions in it, with which you may not agree. That's fine. Enjoy it for its clarity and enjoyment of life, despite various trials along the way.