I've recently come to think that the life sciences are perhaps the coolest, most-happening field of science at the moment. Physics is too easy, a problem practically solved in its unreasonable mathematical orderliness (with some exceptions, turbulence and the like). Chemistry, geology and whatnot give off a whiff of being very applied. Behavioural and social sciences are hunting big game -- but the game may be so elusive in its context-dependency and experimental intractability that they might have a better chance of spotting the Loch Ness monster. Life sciences, on the other hand, have just enough empirical tractability, and seem to always lie just on this side of the border of unfathomability, to keep things both exciting and -- perhaps? -- viable.
In 'From Darwin to Derrida', Haig, an evolutionary biologist from Harvard, has written a book on the philosophy of biology which demonstrates why the subject is so slippery. We humans understand how things work by devising conceptual frameworks and models of how our concepts relate to each other and how they interact. And we understand what things are _for_ by inferring meaning from how something functions.
Yet evolution is no engineer; it is instead four billion years of random hacks and hacks-on-hacks, an infinite self-supporting Rube Goldberg machine with no design principles and a system architecture of "whatever works" -- or, rather, "whatever worked". It is no architect either; the randomness of physical evolution implies there is no ultimate goal, just atoms jostling each other -- DNA recombining, biological entities developing, perhaps procreating, eventually dying. The watchmaker is blind. Yet, Haig argues, there is meaning.
The meaning resides in the self-supporting river of information -- on both environments and on individuals -- which flows down the evolutionary history of life. DNA is a text which is being interpreted by developmental biology as a phenotype; a phenotype is a text which is being interpreted by the environment as a genotype. The relative stability of both the interpreter(s) and the text(s) is what it means for meaning to arise from purely mechanistic interactions at the molecular level; much like the meaning you perhaps interpret from the text you are reading now (also a causal product of "just" vibrations in some quantum field). Haig thus tries to get at a deeper sense of what we mean when we talk about meaning, and argues hard that such meaning is at the core of biology. There is no plan, yet there is teleology of sorts.
The book delves into the gory details. Think you know how genes work? The cell is the hardware, and the DNA is the software? Genes are particular snippets of the DNA code, and they are selfish -- each statistically seeking (or "seeking", if you insist) to maximise the number of copies of itself in the next generation? Think again. Haig emphasises how the definition of 'gene' is quite mutable and depends on the context -- genes can be seen as material, informational, or strategic. Neighbouring genes may 'favour' each other if they are often copied together. Genes form teams, facing a constant trade-off between keeping a 'winning team' together versus seeking individual success via recombination. Sometimes nature breaks the rules of computer science and starts mixing up the hardware with the software, with particular snippets of 'code' making up a molecular structure which starts having physical effects on transcription. Sometimes the effect of a gene depends on whether you inherited it from a father rather than a mother. There are chapters which go deep into the functioning of the cell; there are paragraphs where I had to reach for Wikipedia at least once per sentence. All the same, it is often also very funny, in a Harvard-sort-of-way.
Ultimately, the book's meaning is that biology is too complicated a phenomenon to squeeze into a simple human-readable framework; and that 'meaning' is a concept which can help us forward in this maze. Conceptual flexibility, and the willingness to think deeper, think differently, is necessary. Indeed, the adaptationist theory of evolution suffers from residing in a no-man's land of a vicious war of attrition between two dogmatic sides. As Haig writes: "[a]daptationism is singled out for disapprobation *because* it reaches across a boundary. On the physicalist side, adaptive 'storytelling' is seen as polluting the pristine province of efficient and material causes with the messiness of meaning. On the humanist side, Darwinian explanations of human nature are rejected as hostile takeover bids by advocates of mindless mechanism. Both physicalists and humanists are happy with the border where is currently stands (we are not like them!). Territorial borders are historically contingent obstacles to freedom of movement across a continuous terrain. In terms of academic Realpolitik, Darwinism resides in the borderlands of Natur and Geist, a small principality wedged between hegemonic powers."
'From Darwin to Derrida' is too well-written and provocative to be called academic, yet too highbrow to be called pop science. In its wide scope and audacity, and also thematically, it resembles Douglas Hofstadter's 'Gödel, Escher, Bach'; although Haig's book lacks GEB's sense of being a unitary, unalloyed masterpiece by a precocious own-label upstart. Haig is more of an established artist, at the height of his powers, confidently writing a pop album after years of making art. Or perhaps a putting together a Best Of: two thirds of the chapters are revised versions of previously published pieces, stitched together into a coherent whole. This shows, here and there, as repetition.
But this is a minor flaw. I have a feeling I will return to this book again quite soon, even though I have many other books waiting for their turn. 'From Darwin to Derrida' is a wild intellectual ride, and one I highly recommend.