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A Skeptical Biochemist
An eminent pioneer of modern protein chemistry looks back on six decades in biochemical research and education to advance stimulating thoughts about science―how it is practiced, how it is explained, and how its history is written. Taking the title of his book from Robert Boyle’s classic, The Sceptical Chymist (1661), and Joseph Needham’s The Sceptical Biologist (1929), Joseph Fruton brings his own skeptical vision to bear on how chemistry and biology interact to describe living systems.
Scientists, philosophers, historians, and sociologists will seize upon the questions Fruton What is the nature of the tension between the chemical and the biological sciences? What are the roots and future direction of molecular biology? What is the proper place of expert scientists in the historiography of science? How does the “scientific method” really work in practice? These and many other topics are fair game for this author’s wise critiques. In a stimulating final chapter, Fruton analyzes the evolution of key terms and symbols―the conceptual underpinnings used in the biochemical literature.
Scientists, philosophers, historians, and sociologists will seize upon the questions Fruton What is the nature of the tension between the chemical and the biological sciences? What are the roots and future direction of molecular biology? What is the proper place of expert scientists in the historiography of science? How does the “scientific method” really work in practice? These and many other topics are fair game for this author’s wise critiques. In a stimulating final chapter, Fruton analyzes the evolution of key terms and symbols―the conceptual underpinnings used in the biochemical literature.
344 pages, Hardcover
First published May 1, 1992
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August 31, 2019
A Skeptical Biochemist covers a lot of ground in its 260 pages divided into five broad, thematically organized chapters. Fruton flits between a range of topics concerning the history and practice of biochemistry, liberally using case studies and quotes to address topics like the nature of experimentation, the quest for biochemical knowledge, the practice of history and philosophy of science, the development and history of biochemistry/molecular biology, the language and literature of biochemistry and language and scientific misconduct. A Skeptical Biochemist is written for the trained biochemist and biochemical historian, and presupposes a background in all of the topics it touches: he entirely omits the scientific context in a lot of his discussions of specific case studies. The book is, however, an excellent, exhaustive reference for the development of biochemistry because of its thorough coverage of major writers in the field. While Fruton brings his long experience and staggering insight to his writing, he often takes a conservative stance in talking about issues such as the purpose and future of both scientific and historical publishing, often quoting celebrated radical writers (especially Peter Medawar) only to soften their critique. While he uses to his advantage his years of experience as a researcher when he plays historian, his critique of scientists is often smug as he is quick to point out his seemingly unerring intuition over the years.
Sample, pages 53-54:
"During the 1920s, the idea that hexagonal units (other than those present in the amino acids phenylalanine, tyrosine, and tryptophan) are significant structural elements of proteins guided the research of some organic chemists, including Emil Abderhalden and Max Bergmann, who were influenced by Emil Fischer's ambiguous commitment to the linear peptide theory of protein structure in his suggestion that the diketopiperazines were possible protein constituents. In these respects, therefore, it would seem that [Dorothy] Wrinch's hypothesis was in accord with a tradition based in part on the authority of Emil Fischer. Moreover, Wrinch drew upon the numerological hypotheses of Svedberg and of Bergmann and Niemann to justify her geometric hypothesis that a unit of 288 amino acids is a significant feature of protein structure. The Wrinch hypothesis is now one of the discarded efforts to explain, through geometry, the complexity of protein structure, but in recent (and justifiable) assertion of the equality of the human sexes there have been some exaggerations of Dorothy Wrinch's role in the development of knowledge in this field. For example, in my opinion, it will simply not do to ascribe the shortcomings of her hypothesis to "artifacts" in the claims of Svedberg and Bergmann. As one who conversed with her during the 1930s about her views, I soon came to realize, with much sympathy that her campaign to win acceptance of her hypothesis was an attempt to obtain a secure academic post. My skepticism about her theory of protein structure, as well as about those then expounded by Svedberg and Bergmann, stemmed from the impression that wishful thinking ("preconception of what the truth might be") had prevailed over informed knowledge and critical judgement about the empirical data available at that time concerning the chemical constitution of proteins."
The book has something for a broad range of readers if they are willing to put up with Fruton's fondness for name dropping and frequent digressions. While the text is a little out of date with respect to the massive developments in the thirty years since it was written, it is extremely valuable reading for biologists interested in learning about the provenance of a still-young field.
Sample, pages 53-54:
"During the 1920s, the idea that hexagonal units (other than those present in the amino acids phenylalanine, tyrosine, and tryptophan) are significant structural elements of proteins guided the research of some organic chemists, including Emil Abderhalden and Max Bergmann, who were influenced by Emil Fischer's ambiguous commitment to the linear peptide theory of protein structure in his suggestion that the diketopiperazines were possible protein constituents. In these respects, therefore, it would seem that [Dorothy] Wrinch's hypothesis was in accord with a tradition based in part on the authority of Emil Fischer. Moreover, Wrinch drew upon the numerological hypotheses of Svedberg and of Bergmann and Niemann to justify her geometric hypothesis that a unit of 288 amino acids is a significant feature of protein structure. The Wrinch hypothesis is now one of the discarded efforts to explain, through geometry, the complexity of protein structure, but in recent (and justifiable) assertion of the equality of the human sexes there have been some exaggerations of Dorothy Wrinch's role in the development of knowledge in this field. For example, in my opinion, it will simply not do to ascribe the shortcomings of her hypothesis to "artifacts" in the claims of Svedberg and Bergmann. As one who conversed with her during the 1930s about her views, I soon came to realize, with much sympathy that her campaign to win acceptance of her hypothesis was an attempt to obtain a secure academic post. My skepticism about her theory of protein structure, as well as about those then expounded by Svedberg and Bergmann, stemmed from the impression that wishful thinking ("preconception of what the truth might be") had prevailed over informed knowledge and critical judgement about the empirical data available at that time concerning the chemical constitution of proteins."
The book has something for a broad range of readers if they are willing to put up with Fruton's fondness for name dropping and frequent digressions. While the text is a little out of date with respect to the massive developments in the thirty years since it was written, it is extremely valuable reading for biologists interested in learning about the provenance of a still-young field.
Displaying 1 of 1 review