The Mystery of Life Origin

 FOREWORD Robert J. Marks and John West

In 1984, three courageous scientists—Charles  Thaxton,  Walter Bradley, and  Roger Olsen—published a rigorous reassessment of then-current scientific theories about the origin of life.  Published by the Philosophical Library (the publisher of works by Albert Einstein, Werner Heisenberg, Max Planck, and many other eminent scientists and thinkers), The Mystery of Life’s Origins challenged the scientific orthodoxy of the time and provoked significant interest in the scientific community. Long-time NASA scientist Robert  Jastrow hailed the book as “a very well thought-out and clearly written analysis,” while  Robert Shapiro, Professor of Chemistry at New York University, lauded it as “an important contribution to the origin of life field.”

The book’s core message was startling: Current approaches to the origin of life were abysmal failures, and wholesale re-thinking was required. As the authors put it:

the difficulty is fundamental. It applies equally to discarded, present, and possible future models of chemical evolution. We believe the problem is analogous to that of the medieval alchemist who was commissioned to change copper into gold... You can’t get gold out of copper, apples out of oranges, or information out of negative thermal entropy. There does not seem to be any physical basis for the widespread assumption implicit in the idea that an open system is a sufficient explanation for the complexity of life.

At the end of the book, the authors suggested that the origin of life might have required what philosopher Michael  Polanyi called “a profoundly informative intervention” or what they themselves called an “ intelligent cause.” Most scientists of the time did not want to hear that revolutionary proposal; but the authors’ words inspired a new generation of scientists and scholars who were dedicated to seeking evidence of purpose and  intelligent design throughout nature.

By republishing The Mystery of Life’s Origin on the occasion of its 35th anniversary, we seek to recognize the signal accomplishment of its original authors, plus the hard work of  Jon Buell of the  Foundation for Thought and Ethics, who helped bring the book to reality. In the new introduction by  David Klinghoffer, you will get to read the behind-the-scenes story of how the book came to be written—and the transformative impact it had on many. The original text has been lightly updated. The fact that only light updating was needed is a testament to the meticulous scholarship of the authors and to the enduring nature of the problem they identified in origin of life studies.

Although the text of the original Mystery of Life’s Origin forms the first part of this volume, this book is much more than an historical appreciation. Its second half, “The State of the Debate,” includes new chapters assessing the state of origin of life research today by chemist  James Tour of Rice University, physicist  Brian Miller, astronomer  Guillermo Gonzalez, biologist  Jonathan Wells, and philosopher of science  Stephen C. Meyer. Those who want to understand not only the history of science’s quest to understand the origin of life, but its current status, will find this book an invaluable guide.

(...)

INTRODUCTION:  INTELLIGENT DESIGN’S ORIGINAL EDITION David Klinghoffer

How does life emerge from that which is not alive? This elicit mystery exercises a peculiar fascination, with the power to elicit remarkable feats of imagination. As the novelist Mary Shelley recalled, her invention of the story of  Frankenstein traced back to conversations she witnessed between Lord Byron and her husband  Percy Shelley. Holidaying in Switzerland in the summer of 1816, they spoke late into the night, past the “witching hour,” about “the principle of life, and whether there was any probability of its ever being discovered and communicated.” Up for discussion was gossip about “experiments of  Dr. Darwin” (Erasmus, the grandfather of Charles) who “by some extraordinary means” produced “voluntary motion” in a length of spaghetti. The poets alluded to “galvanism,” electrical experiments by  Luigi Galvani, spurring thoughts that “a corpse would be reanimated.”1 Later, sleepless in her bed, Mrs. Shelley would experience a vision, receiving the seed for one of the great horror novels.

Less horrific but hardly less imaginative are scenarios of unguided “chemical evolution,” or abiogenesis, featured in high school and college biology textbooks, taken as gospel by the media and preached as such by a range of authoritative popular and scholarly figures in the culture. Simple experimental work by  Louis Pasteur in the early 1860s demonstrated that life does not spontaneously generate itself, not from spaghetti, not from anything. Instead, life comes from life. How then may science explain the origin of the very first life?

 Charles Darwin in 1871 famously speculated in a letter to  Joseph Hooker, “But if (and oh what a big if) we could conceive in some warm little pond with all sorts of ammonia and phosphoric salts, light, heat, electricity etcetera present, that a protein compound was chemically formed, ready to undergo still more complex changes.”2 The “warm little pond” generating “protein compounds” is not far off from textbook orthodoxy today. Students are taught that a prebiotic soup gave rise to key biotic chemicals, amino acids, stimulated by atmospheric electricity—galvanism in a modern guise—as demonstrated in the famed  Miller-Urey experiment of 1952. One feat of imagination here lies in conceiving by what “extraordinary means” such building blocks came together, unguided, in precisely the right order to give rise to biological information, the digital code of DNA and RNA, that underlies all life on Earth.

In 1969, San Francisco State University biologist  Dean Kenyon would give the theory of chemical evolution its then most up-to-date presentation, in an influential text,  Biochemical Predestination. By 1984, Kenyon had abandoned the theory altogether in favor of what would later be called intelligent design. His public confession of apostasy came in the Foreword of a short yet remarkable book, The Mystery of Life’s Origin: Reassessing Current Theories, by chemist  Charles B. Thaxton, materials scientist  Walter L. Bradley, and geochemist  Roger L. Olsen.  Discovery Institute Press is delighted to offer this new version of the book, the Ur-text or original edition of the modern theory of intelligent design, along with supplementary essays by scholars updating and extending the work. These new chapters, by synthetic organic chemist James Tour, physicist Brian Miller, astronomer Guillermo Gonzalez, biologist Jonathan Wells, and philosopher of biology Stephen Meyer, present the current state of the debate that Thaxton and his co-authors sparked in 1984. The enigma they identified remains, hardly resolved by further technical research amplified and distorted by press releases and hysterical headlines, but rather, if anything, compounded as science has advanced.

For anyone familiar with today’s  intelligent design theory, to read The Mystery of Life’s Origin is to experience a powerful sense of déjà vu. Surely we have walked these halls before. Or rather, Mystery is the hall down which ID walked before it emerged into history as “intelligent design.” The now familiar phrase appears nowhere in the text. But other phrases, persons, and motifs, the stock-in-trade of the modern ID theorist, are present. That is most notably, thickly so in the book’s Epilogue, authored by Dr. Thaxton, where the technical details are left behind and a forthright argument for a design hypothesis is offered. Stephen Meyer has been forthcoming about his intellectual debt to Thaxton. In a sense, Mystery is a daring first draft of what would become Meyer’s own work, especially in  Signature in the Cell. Here we have the “principle of uniformity,”3 “the present is a key to the past,”4 adducing what “we know by experience” about how “intelligent investigators” act,5 the role of the “idea of creation” in the “origin of modern science,”6 the injunction to “follow the evidence where it leads,”7 how “certain effects always have intelligent causes,”8 Shannon information,  Michael Polanyi, “ specified complexity,”9 taking Darwin himself as a historical precedent in one’s argumentation, conceiving of the search for truth about biological origins as akin to the work of a detective in a murder mystery, and more.

A separate article could be written tracing the influence of such themes from Thaxton, Bradley, and Olsen on Meyer alone, reflected in his books including the forthcoming  The Return of the  God Hypothesis. That last formulation, the “God hypothesis,” first used by Meyer in the title of a 1999 essay in the Journal of Interdisciplinary Studies, itself appears in the Epilogue of Mystery.10 Thaxton uses it to contrast different theaters of scientific investigation, “ operation science” versus “ origin science,” where consideration of a transcendent intelligent agent as being at work in causing certain events either doesn’t belong at all, or might in fact be permissible. In Signature in the Cell, Meyer would later write that this “terminology” was “admittedly cumbersome.”11 For “origin science” he substitutes “historical science.”

When I spoke to Thaxton recently, he explained that the “God hypothesis” was simply the shorthand way professors talked about the idea when Thaxton was a post-doctoral student at Harvard in the philosophy of science. Other key ID concepts and habits of thought came to him from this same period in his post-PhD studies. For example, looking to Darwin as a model or precedent for one’s arguments, as Meyer does, was something he picked up from historian of science  Reijer Hooykaas (1906–1994), whom he came to know at this time. “ Uniformitarianism” is via the geologist  Charles Lyell (1797–1875), but Hooykaas wrote a book about it in 1963,  The Principle of Uniformity in Geology, Biology, and Theology. Shannon information was from information theorist  Hubert Yockey (1916–2016), referring to mathematician  Claude Shannon (1916–2001), and “specified complexity,” now much associated with mathematician and intelligent design proponent  William Dembski, from chemist  Leslie Orgel (1927–2007). The advice to “follow the evidence where it leads,” or as it is sometimes found, “We must follow the argument wherever it leads,” a staple of writers on intelligent design, is a paraphrase from Socrates in Plato’s Republic. In Allan Bloom’s translation (394d), “[W]herever the argument, like a wind, tends, thither must we go.”12In other words, the interest of The Mystery of Life’s Origin lies partly in the question of an idea’s origin. Meyer and Thaxton form a link with scientific and philosophical investigations of the 20th century, the 19th century, and before, much as intelligent design more broadly connects Greek philosophy, especially  Anaxagoras (5th century B.C.), with the thinking of Darwin’s colleague turned rival,  Alfred Russel Wallace (1823–1913). Without going into needless detail, or searching too far back into the past, this Introduction will sketch some of the immediate historical background behind the writing of Mystery and its subsequent influence on the evolution of the theory of ID.

It is impossible to fully disentangle the study of biological origins from reflections and speculations of a theological nature. Proponents of Darwinian evolution habitually advance arguments about God in support of their theory: “God, if he exists, and there seems to be no reason to think he does, surely wouldn’t have done it this way.” Much of the curiosity we feel about how life originated similarly derives from the observation that a purely naturalistic explanation is not what a theist would expect, and an explanation incorporating design or teleology is not what a materialist or an atheist would expect. Today, some of the most prominent exponents of  neo-Darwinism are also outspoken and evangelizing atheists. Which is fair enough. That fact by itself does not invalidate their scientific thinking. So there is no shock or scandal in the fact that the idea for the book that became The Mystery of Life’s Origin was first discussed among a group of friends and colleagues affiliated with  Probe Ministries, operated by  Jon Buell and his associate  James Williams to advocate a Christian worldview. Buell would go on in 1981 to launch the  Foundation for Thought and Ethics, in Dallas, Texas, publishing books on scientific, historical, and ethical subjects. This publishing work was absorbed in 2016 as an imprint of Discovery Institute Press.

Buell knew Mystery co-author Walter Bradley from Bradley’s days as a PhD student at the University of Texas. In 1975, Buell was seeking an author for a rigorous book on evolution, and he proposed it to Bradley, then a professor at the Colorado School of Mines. Bradley wasn’t interested in that focus, so he made a counter-proposal: a book on the origin of life. As he told Discovery Institute’s  John West in an interview, he suspected that could be the “ultimate barrier to this whole question of life and evolution,” the “hardest step,” “how you get started from scratch”—meaning, life from nonlife.13 The study of the origin of life is by necessity multidisciplinary. It joins biology to fields with which Bradley’s expertise, materials science, is more closely linked: biochemistry, physical chemistry, chemical kinetics, thermodynamics. “Interestingly enough,” he says, “most of the people that I have met, who are doing work as biologists, seldom know very much about what I think of as more fundamental and theoretical chemistry. And so a lot of what they do is pretty qualitative.”

Qualitative speculation was what Bradley wanted to avoid. Talking and teaching about the subject, including a 1974 guest lecture he gave on “Thermodynamics and the Origin of Life” at Colorado State University, convinced him he was onto something. One key question, the atmosphere of the early Earth, seemed to call for training in another field: geochemistry. For this, he sought out the collaboration of a co-author,  Roger Olsen, then a PhD student in geochemistry at the Colorado School of Mines. “Some of the ideas of what people would want to believe about  abiogenesis are very dependent on what the initial atmosphere was like,” Bradley recalls of his thinking at the time. “For example, if you have too much oxygen, then there’s no hope.” Olsen’s research could shed light on this. “Roger concluded that we never did have a reducing atmosphere,” as the  Miller-Urey experiment assumed, an assumption that “didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.” An oxidizing atmosphere spelled doom for life’s presumed chemical forerunners.

Bradley and Olsen had been working on their origin-of-life manuscript for six months when  Charles Thaxton moved down to Dallas from Boston, where he had done post-doctoral studies at Harvard and Brandeis Universities, in the history of science and molecular biology, respectively. The text of The Mystery of Life’s Origin furnishes a single brief autobiographical reference, in the Epilogue, but it is an intriguing one. It reflects Thaxton’s experience: “When we are asked to consider ‘far out’ or ‘strange’ ideas such as  Special Creation, as were the authors just a few years ago, typically the response is exactly that mentioned by [David] Bohm as cited earlier.” This response is one of “violent disturbance.” Moreover, “The process… can sometimes be painful (it was to one of the authors) but the quest for truth has never been easy, and has on more than a few occasions been known to make one unpopular.”14Thaxton, introduced to religious faith by his mother, had in college gone through a period of disbelief. Scientific knowledge seemed to crowd out any role for a deity. It was as a graduate student in physical chemistry at Iowa State that he first delved into the problem of abiogenesis. Until that point, he had thought that chemistry fully accounted for life’s origins. The assumption turned out to be too simple. The pain and disturbance he referred to in the book was, first, the feeling of having betrayed his mother, and, second, the feeling of having betrayed those who looked to him as respectable materialist.

 After moving to Dallas with his wife and first son, Thaxton went to work with Jon Buell. It was late 1975, and, as Thaxton told John West in an interview, “Buell came in one day and presented me with a manuscript that he’d had on his desk.”15 It was by Walter Bradley and Roger Olsen, the first draft of what would become The Mystery of Life’s Origin. “So I read through it,” Thaxton says, “and my first reaction was, wow, this is kind of interesting. But why is there not more chemistry in it?” He noted this objection to Buell, who invited him to come on a visit to meet with Bradley and Olsen in College Station, Texas, where by this time Bradley had moved to teach at Texas A&M. In Bradley’s living room, they discussed the book, and Buell encouraged Thaxton to share his reservation about the dearth of chemistry. Bradley and Olsen both almost simultaneously spoke up and said, “Well, you’re the chemist. You write it!”

And that is essentially what he did. Bradley was teaching and the now Dr. Olsen had switched to private industry. Thaxton was the “fresh man” on the project with the time to further develop the book. “I had a lot of studying to do, and I did,” he says. “Night and day for weeks and weeks and months, and it turned into several years in fact, before it was all done.” Olsen had written about the atmosphere of the early Earth in Chapter 5 (“Reassessing the Early Earth and Its Atmosphere”), while Bradley wrote Chapters 7, 8, and 9 (“Thermodynamics of Living Systems,” “Thermodynamics and the Origin of Life,” and “Specifying How Work Is to Be Done”). “Then Thaxton wrote the majority of the rest of it,” according to Bradley, including the Epilogue which departs from pure scientific discussion and drew most of the fire once the book came out.

One problem was that the chapters seemed to reflect different voices, different terminologies and ways of arguing. As Thaxton recalls, it needed to be largely rewritten to sound “like a science book, not an engineering book.” So, “I redid the whole manuscript, just started from scratch, just started over. And we completely went through that process at least two or three times.” By 1978, it was done, and ready to be sent for scientific review, by a dozen or more scientists, some friendly to the thesis, others unfriendly.

One prominent scientist specializing in the origin-of-life field, presumed to be unfriendly but a fair critic nonetheless, was Dean Kenyon. Kenyon, exchanging letters with Thaxton in 1981, had read the book in its manuscript form and was interested enough to invite Buell and Thaxton to visit with him. They flew to San Francisco for the meeting. Thaxton did not know at the time that Kenyon had privately come to doubt his own chemical evolutionary theory.

“My stomach was all the way up in my throat as we sat in Kenyon’s office that day,” Thaxton recalls. “I remember asking him what he thought of the book.” In response, Kenyon fixed him with a stern look, then smiled and said, “I thought it was terrific.” This emboldened Thaxton, for he had come with an additional plan, beyond asking Kenyon for his view of their work. He was going to ask Kenyon to write the Fore-word. He plunged in. “Well, then why don’t you write the Foreword to the book?” Thaxton asked. “And he said, ‘Well, I was hoping you would ask.’”

In the opinion of historian Ronald Numbers, in his book The Creationists, Kenyon’s contribution, a leading origin-of-life theorist “confessing that he no longer believed in naturalistic evolution,” was the “most striking feature of their book.”16 As Kenyon wrote, “It is very likely that research on life’s origins will move in somewhat different directions once the professionals have read this important work.” He concludes, “All scientists interested in the origin-of-life problem would do well to study this book carefully and to evaluate their own work in the light of its arguments.”17 Such an endorsement, for the three authors, was a coup that almost could not be topped.

The process of reviewing having been completed and needed changes having been made, it was time to seek a publisher. This task fell to  Jon Buell. The goal was to reach a secular audience, not a religious one, and the style of the book indicates as much. To be strictly avoided, says Thaxton, was anything that sounded remotely “religious.” He notes, “We wanted to make sure we weren’t preaching.” Yet finding a publisher was no simple matter. Then as now, the faintest hint of “creationism” was enough to set teeth on edge, even though the Thaxton book clearly did not support creationism in its most precise meaning of recruiting science on behalf of Biblical literalism. It probably did not help that a prominent Supreme Court case involving “creation science,”  McLean v. Arkansas, was being argued about this time, in 1981. The case was decided in January 1982, finding that teaching creationism in public schools violates the First Amendment’s Establishment Clause.

As of late 1982, Buell was still in search of a publisher. Cornell University Press and MIT Press had both expressed initial interest, with “almost identical” final results, as Thaxton recalls. At Cornell, two internal reviewers read the book and delivered a split opinion, in favor and against. So a third was called in, a prominent scientist. Thaxton wonders if it was  Carl Sagan. The acquisitions editor involved,  Eric Halpern, wrote to Buell with the bad news, indicating that, “As you will see, the report falls far short of giving us the basis for a favorable recommendation to our faculty Board.”18 The “masked” report is indeed scathing, blasting the book for its “superficial” arguments, though interesting in how it shows how little has changed in conventional thinking about life’s origin over the past four decades. The anonymous Cornell reviewer harrumphs, “Because the experiments have not yet produced a cell in the laboratory it is unrealistic to dismiss the effort.” Researchers are still saying the same today, in very similar terms. Astronomer  Abraham Loeb at Harvard, for one, writing in 2019 in Scientific American, considers the prospects of “produc[ing] synthetic life out of raw chemicals” in the lab, but concedes “even if we dismiss these prospects as unrealistic with our current technologies, another civilization that happened to be billions of years more technologically advanced than we are might have” done so.19By return mail on  Foundation for Thought and Ethics letterhead, Thaxton responded to Halpern, noting that while expert review was only to be expected from a university publisher, “it is difficult to escape the feeling that we have been sandbagged by someone who feels threatened by criticisms raised” in the book. He pointed out that their book had been sent accompanied by endorsements from “noted chemical evolution scholars,” organic chemist  Gordon Shaw at the University of Bradford in England, as well as  Dean Kenyon. The reviewer had dismissed the manuscript as “a complete misrepresentation,” lacking originality or comprehension. Yet Kenyon had called it “one of the best critical analyses of origin-of-life I have read to date.” Thaxton asked why Halpern had not wondered at the stark discrepancy of views: “[C]onsider the implication of the allegations of your reader. To accept his word that we have submitted a shallow, often answered critique, is to charge the readers we cited in our Prospectus with having their critical faculties so numbed they could not detect superficial criticisms. And these are noted scholars.”

Writing to Halpern at Cornell, Thaxton included an independent analysis from the editor at the MIT Press who had been “enthusiastic” about the book, only to lose his job because the publisher cut its division devoted to the life sciences. The editor,  Grahame J. C. Smith, had particularly praised Walter Bradley’s coverage of thermodynamic issues. These chapters were “so good that the rest of the book might be geared to cohesiveness with that part of the book.”20 He particularly liked Chapter 8, which he called “really excellent” and “Wonderful!” He had many helpful editorial suggestions and criticisms.

Thaxton had asked Halpern at Cornell to reconsider, but Halpern, in a final reply on December 23, 1982, courteously refused. With his masked “distinguished scholar in the field of chemical evolution” harshly opposed, he would have needed to seek additional support from Cornell scientists, and he did not want to take that course.

In the end, Buell and Thaxton went with an old and distinguished New York publisher, Philosophical Library, which while not a university or strictly scientific press could boast an impressive list of authors, prominent scientists and others. They have published a collection by Albert Einstein, Out of My Later Years (1950), and their backlist features books by Werner Heisenberg, Max Planck, Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, even Charles Darwin, including a range of Nobel Prize winners.21 They also allowed the  Foundation for Thought and Ethics to market the book. Far from a religious publisher, Philosophical Library was an appropriate choice for a scientific audience. A second edition of the book was published by Lewis and Stanley, in Dallas. The move was made, says Thaxton, simply because “we can do everything much faster, without having to have big turnarounds, and waits, and so on.”

The book came trailing endorsements besides Kenyon’s. The back-cover highlights praise from astronomer  Robert Jastrow of NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies (“a very well thought-out and clearly written analysis”) and from one of the best-known scholars on the origin of life, chemist Robert Shapiro at New York University (“an important contribution,” “brings together the major scientific arguments that demonstrate the inadequacy of current theories,” although “I do not share the final philosophical conclusion”). Shapiro published his own book on the topic two years later,  Origins: A Skeptic’s Guide to the Creation of Life on Earth (1986).

The subsequent reception by scientists helps to explain the spark that The Mystery of Life’s Origin provided for a nascent  intelligent design movement. The reception did not come immediately. In fact, the anxious authors were initially troubled by the lack of a response. “It was dead silence,” says Thaxton. “Nobody said anything. And I was so dejected, and disappointed. It was like you drop it out there and — not a ripple. Nothing. No effect at all.” The publisher was reassuring. “‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘it takes a year’” for a book like this to get its due.

So they waited. And while they did, we can pause briefly to remember how, for skeptics of evolution, whether chemical or biological, it was a different world from ours. In 1984, the full array of resources deployed today to intimidate dissenters didn’t exist. There were no evolution professors speculating on their blogs about pre-publication books and poisoning the well against new ideas. Nor were there any pseudonymous Darwinist reviewers on Amazon posting enflamed reviews of books they hadn’t purchased much less read. Everyone wrote under his own name, and named editors served in the role of gatekeeper, thus taking responsibility. It was a fine thing to be alive before the Internet. Interest had to build organically, more honestly, via typescripts and printed matter transiting through the U.S. mail. As a side benefit, there was no Wikipedia with its unknown yet wildly influential editors, many bearing fantastical pseudonyms instead of real names, disseminating misinformation about any controversial subject and on call 24/7, at a moment’s notice, to undo an earnest effort to correct misstatements. As of 2017,  Walter Bradley himself was among those ID scientists to have their Wikipedia entry disemboweled or erased by Wiki editors. Even Wikipedia co-founder Larry Sanger has called the encyclopedia’s treatment of intelligent design “appallingly biased.”22 This is how opinions on profound subjects are developed and spread now.

Is what I have just recounted an irrelevant aside? No, it’s not. I bring it up because, despite the aggravating interaction with Cornell University Press, the response from expert scientists to The Mystery of Life’s Origin is impressive for how relatively relaxed, if not necessarily open-minded, the scientific establishment was. And in fact, the publisher’s estimate of a year was about right. “So that was what happened,” says Thaxton. “When the reviewers started, wow, it was like they all started coming at once.”

Among the most significant voices to be raised was that of biochemist  Sidney W. Fox at the University of Miami, a leading origin-of-life researcher. Thaxton calls him a “propagandist” for the naturalistic interpretation of  abiogenesis. His June 1985 review in The Quarterly Review of Biology was loaded with ridicule, sniffing that of the writers, “Not one is listed in American Men and Women of Science, 14th edition.”23 Yet there is also a hint of grudging respect: “the authors of The Mystery present antievolutionary arguments with force.”

Fox, as Thaxton recalls, was “more significant than  Stanley Miller [of Miller-Urey fame] was, in the early days, in promoting all the origin-of-life materials in the high school textbooks and so on. In the late Fifties, early Sixties, it was all  Sidney Fox. Everywhere. All the time.” So despite the dyspeptic tenor of the review, it was an honor to get one from Fox at all. And despite the shot at their lack of status in the establishment pecking order, Thaxton notes the irony that they had a somewhat intimate connection: He inherited Fox’s old office at Iowa State from when Fox was a postdoctoral student there. “In fact,” Thaxton remembers, “I had to clean out a lot of stuff that it turns out was his.”

The August 1985 Yale Journal of Biology and Medicine was another story. Professor  James F. Jekel, in the Yale School of Medicine, was warmly congratulative. “To all who share the comfortable assumption that the scientific problems of abiogenesis are mostly resolved, this book will come as a real surprise,” he wrote. He concluded: “The volume as a whole is devastating to a relaxed acceptance of current theories of abio-genesis. It is well written, and, though technical, much of the book is within the reach of the informed non-scientist.” It is “strongly recommended to anyone interested in the problem of chemical and biological origins.”24An eminent scientist at Yale, biophysicist  Harold J. Morowitz, had a fascinating mixed response. Morowitz testified in the 1981  McLean v. Arkansas “creation science” trial and was no friend of what would be come to be called intelligent design, writing in 2005 in the Chronicle of Higher Education that “Only creationists support the theory of intelligent design.”25 According to his New York Times obituary in 2016, “He was best known for applying thermodynamic theory to biology, exploring how “the energy that flows through a system acts to organize that system.”26 So he was in a strong position to evaluate the section of The Mystery of Life’s Origin, authored by Walter Bradley, that dealt with that subject. Some years after Mystery was published, through a lucky personal connection, Charles Thaxton was able to get his book in front of the eminent Dr. Morowitz. “I contacted Morowitz about reading it,” says Thaxton. “I thought, well, gee whiz here’s a way to find out what he thinks about what Bradley has done. But I didn’t tell him that that’s what I was interested in.”

Morowitz wrote a two-page private review.27 He dismissed the Epilogue as “philosophically naïve,” and “philosophically unfair,” noting that it contains no mention of Bishop Berkeley or Benedict Spinoza. As to the science behind the book, however, he wrote, it is a “very substantial effort,” a “scientifically useful critique of a very sizable literature,” and “the authors have certainly succeeded in showing that we are very far from a convincing experimentally verifiable understanding of how something as complex as the simplest contemporary cells could have arisen.” Yet the “assumption that the problem lies beyond present-day natural science seems premature.”

There was one thing missing from the review, and it was odd given Morowitz’s own expertise. Thaxton sought an opportunity to ask him about it by phone. Thaxton said, “I’m very curious. You said some positive things about our book. But you were the expert on thermodynamics at the Arkansas trial, and yet you had not one thing to say about our treatment of thermodynamics in The Mystery of Life’s Origin. Can you tell me why?” As Thaxton remembers, over the telephone line, “There was a long, long pause. I mean, very disturbingly so. Long pause. And I said, ‘Are you still there?’ And he said, ‘Yes. I’m just thinking.’ And I said, ‘Well, can you answer?’ And he said, ‘Well, I didn’t see anything wrong with it, so I didn’t say anything about it.’” Morowitz is still today held up as a champion against “misuses of the second law of thermodynamics,” as the Darwin-lobbying  National Center for Science Education puts it.28 Yet Thaxton draws the evident conclusion from Morowitz’s response: “That means he agreed with what Bradley said. Right?” It seems so. (...)

THE MYSTERY OF LIFE’S ORIGIN

THE CONTINUING CONTROVERSY

CHARLES B. THAXTON, WALTER L. BRADLEY, ROGER L. OLSEN, JAMES TOUR,

STEPHEN MEYER, JONATHAN WELLS, GUILLERMO GONZALEZ, BRIAN MILLER, DAVID KLINGHOFFER