Chapter 10. Life, Art and Science Go On

"What lies behind us, and what lies before us are small matters

compared to what lies within us."

Old Proverb

The history of scientific thought shows that ideas are the driving force leading to new discoveries. In many areas of biology, however, scientists seem stuck with nineteenth-century authoritarian ideology which favors data production over the generation of new ideas or the modification of stale paradigms. This preoccupation with data production without integration encourages a kind of 'excellence in mediocrity'. It drives off creative minds and attracts researchers who imitate rather than innovate.

Peter Mitchell has been honored by hundreds of institutions and individuals throughout the world. Although he has never enjoyed formality, he greatly appreciated the honors and distinctions which served to acknowledge his 25-year struggle to bring a new way of thinking about life and energy into the world. One of the most important of these distinctions to him personally was receipt of the Honorary Degree of Doctor of Science from the University of Cambridge where he had benefited from the great minds and personalities of scientists, artists and friends, and through them learned the meaning of science, art and life. At the presentation of the recipients of honorary degrees to the Chancellor of the University, the following was said to summarize his life and work:

"In a wooded valley in remotest Cornwall stood the crumbling roofless ruin of a once stately home. Gazing on that ruin, a scientist formed a decision of extraordinary boldness. He bade farewell to the life of institutional science and, with his own hands, rebuilt that house, and in so doing created for himself not only a home but also a private laboratory in which he and a small band of helpers might continue his work. For he knew that he had already unravelled the answer to one of the great mysteries of life. But the world had shown that it was not yet ready to listen. For ten years and more he toiled to establish that his theory was correct. At last the world listened. Honours were heaped upon him: a Nobel Prize, the Copley Medal of the Royal Society, and many more.

What was it that he had discovered? Nothing less than a fundamental process which governs the generation and transfer of energy within the living cell. He focused his attention on that minute intracellular organelle called the mitochondrion and asked himself what is the mechanism by which it provides a supply of energy for the rest of the cell. To find the answer, he had to disentangle its complicated system of power-transmission. To describe the chain of events which he uncovered, he gave new words to the language. The Chemiosmotic Theory ranges far beyond the mitochondrion itself. It explains, for example, how bacteria swim, how calcium is taken up by tissues, and even how heat is generated by hibernating animals. It is a theory of all-embracing simplicity and elegance, and is now firmly established as a fundamental principle in the science of bioenergetics."

Peter also felt tremendous appreciation when made an honorary fellow of the University of Manchester Institute of Science and Technology (1990). Oh, he had to wear a silly hat, take it off and put it on several times, give a talk, shake hands with the chancellor and a few other administrators, etc., but he was particularly pleased because the Institute claimed to award him this distinction because they felt his theories and advances had had a major technological impact on the world as well as advancing the basic and medical sciences.

Honored at the same ceremony with him was Steven Hawking whose able mind had served to enlighten the world about the nature of the vast universe. Due to his extremely crippled condition, Hawking had tremendous difficulty in communicating his thanks that day, and it took a long long time for him to muster up the strength to push the buttons which served as his mode of communication. It is a wonder that the man could communicate at all, and a tribute to modern technology that the world could benefit from his great mind. One must find it noteworthy that while Peter's ideas and discoveries dealt with the smallest molecules, Hawking's contribution dealt with the largest galaxies, system of superficial similarity but orders of magnitude apart.

Other honors of lesser note, but of great importance to Peter personally were also bestowed upon him. For example, he was invited to return to Queens College, Taunton, to give a presentation at one of their end-of-term assemblies. He returned the invitation with an acceptance reply, but jokingly mentioned that if he did address the boys, he would probably choose an atheistic theme. Although he remained in communication with the school officials and served the school in several capacities, the invitation to address the boys was not renewed.

Another gift which he enjoyed tremendously was a set of two booklets containing hand drawn pictures and written statements of congratulations, one from the infants of the Cardinham school district (ages 4-7) and one from the junior class of the Cardinham boarding school. Cardinham is the village closest to Glynn, in Cornwall, and the teachers must have been pleased that their village had been put on the map. The first booklet contained rather amusing self portraits of the 18 children in the infant class, painted with oil paints, as well as two pages of written statements. A few of these (from the infant school), all beginning with "Dear Dr. Mitchell" are included:

"I think you won the biggest prize, Dr. Mitchell and it was good. Tomorrow I am going to Nana's in Scotland!

Love from

Dominic, age 5"

"I am very proud off you. I think you are an expert.

Love from

Gillian, age 6"

"I am very glad that you are an expert. I hope your garden is neat and tidy.

Love from

Jenny, age 5"

"James is away so he can't write a letter.

Love from

Jennie, age 7"

"Congratulations; I pulled my tooth out and that night I couldn¹t sleep. Faries are afraid of poupel (people), and if the faries dusunt (don't) come, it means you've been awake all night. The faries came and gave me ten pence!

Lots of love from

Elinor, age 6"

"Well done, Dr. Mitchell. (no signature)"

The booklet from the junior class contained crayon drawn pictures of the fourteen kids with a single letter which went as follows:

"Dear Dr. Mitchell,

We would like to congratulate you for winning the Nobel Prize. We are glad to have such a great man in Cardinham, who is so magnificent in Science. We are very proud of you and know that you've found something important.

It was very clever of you to win the Nobel Prize. Jonathan first heard about you on radio going home from school. Rebecca and Louise's daddys read it to them out of the newspaper. Some of us heard about it on the television and we all talked about it at school.

When you were young, were you good at Nature? How many labora- tories do you have? And how many people help you at Glynn House? You must feel that everybody round the World knows about you. Your wife must be proud to have such a world famous husband.

from the Junior Class

Deborah Pilsworth

Robert Lory

Jackie Pascoe

Edmund Ovenden

Tammy Oliver

Angus Macwatt

Flora Crosthwaite

Carole Bate

Cardine McGuinness

Louise Courts

Abigail Sharp

Rebecca Williams

Jonathan Sharp

Marcus Hicks

Paul Rogers"

Peter also received congratulatory letters from many of his former friends and acquaintances in Cambridge including his first flame, Brenda Roberts, the ever delightful Lettice Ramsey, and his best friends Quin Geering and John Gayer-Anderson. John's letter is reproduced below:

"My dear Peter,

Cambridge is all a-buzz. I myself heard from Joan (Keilin) who rung up because Lettice (Ramsay) had rung her to get your address. Indeed, everyone is happy for you! I had not realized that among young biochemists you had become standard reading. You came over well with your little talk of surprise on the radio, and I'm only sorry that when asked what you were going to do with the money, you didn't say 'give a party.'

Anyway, Jennifer and everyone in the lab must be very happy, and all on the home farm, and throughout the domain must bow down as they hear how their liege-lord has been so honored. You have been awarded the freedom of Cities both of Nobel and Naughty repute to the greater service and good of Mankind, Womankind, and the various other Kinds, if it be possible to be more kind than unkind, so help us, this year of grace, 1978. Helen must also realize that now you are officially a Great Man, your eccentricities must rather be encouraged than restrained if only for the satisfaction of your Biographers and the enrichment of literature.

Lots of love to you both,

John"

Peter was not the only one honored by invitations as Jennifer also was asked to publically describe her contribution to the Nobel Prize winning work. On one occasion she was asked to address the Women's Club at Lescard, a town in Cornwall near Bodmin. When she arrived, she was surprised to find the hall packed, not only with the women, but also with their husbands who were curious about this secluded team of research workers who had apparently made an earth shaking contribution to science. None in the audience were scientists. Jennifer had carefully prepared her talk using large cards explaining the main points of her presentation which was divided into two parts of equal duration, the first half on the scientific content of their discoveries and the second on the Stockholm festivities. After the presentation there was a question-answer period, and the questions centered around the Nobel banquet and the King and Queen of Sweden. Not a single scientific question was asked. Although Jennifer had attempted to present the material at the level of the layperson, and the audience has been politely attentive throughout her talk, they had not understood a word of it!

Peter's dad had died in 1951, and his mum had had a stroke in 1973 which left her partially paralyzed. Even then she had cancer which eventually was responsible for her death. Neither of them had the pleasure of knowing of their son's honor. She came to Glynn to live out the last 18 months of her life. Peter's brother Bill and his Uncle Gottfried, however, were alive and kicking at the time of the Nobel ceremonies, and both of these men, who had made it possible for Peter to regain his health and continue his work at Glynn, received great satisfaction in knowing that they had made a lasting contribution to science and humanity.

In 1986, Bill died of a heart attack. Like Mum and Peter, he had been an atheist all his life, but he had married a religious Welsh woman, Liz, whose brother was a clergyman of the Church of Wales. Peter had met this brother earlier and knew him to be a good old stick with an excellent sense of humor; however, when he put on his black outfit to do a medieval religious service, he became very austere and seemed to take the affair very seriously. This attitude and approach to death seemed so different from that which Peter's mum would have professed to be the rational response to necessity.

Helen and Peter had decided to drive to Wales for Bill's funeral, not because of any love of funerals, but because Bill's family seemed to expect it. It was a truly gastly affair. In his black suit, Liz's brother did some magical hocus-pocus over the coffin to try to levitate Bill's soul up to heaven while Bill's young grandchildren were weeping, and after the ceremony everyone drove with the box to the graveyard where the burial took place. The graveyard was in horrible condition; the gravestones were chipped, and in some cases the headstones had fallen off. There was rubbish all over, yet it seemed that none of this was supposed to be noticed. Those present walked to the burial site, the coffin first with Bill's wife, her brother and the children, a few other people and Helen following in succession. Peter lagged a bit behind and thought, "Really, what would Bill have thought of all this nonsense if he were alive? Well, I expect he'd turn over in his grave!" This thought caused Peter to chuckle aloud, much to the horror of the other participants. Although Peter had loved his brother very much when he was alive, he didn¹t think poor Bill would have found the services any less ghastly than he did. When the procession arrived at the burial site, the coffin was put into a very deep hole which must have gone nearly to Australia, and everyone pushed to the edge and peered in to see him for the last time. Peter thought, "My God, if someone just gave me a little push from behind, I would fall in with him! Maybe that's where they want me!"

Having completed their familial duties, Helen and Peter were relieved to get out of this spooky environment which reeked of death and magic and head for home. On the way back they stopped at a restaurant and had a wonderful meal with a bottle of very expensive wine. It was good to return to the land of the living! Back at Glynn Peter bumped into Ian West who asked where they'd been. "We've been in Wales burying my poor brother in a very deep hole," Peter answered . "How much older than you was he?" Ian asked. "Oh," Peter responded, "you have only to put up with me for about four more years, and I want you to promise me that when I go, there won't be any pomp and circumstance or solemnity. I'm not afraid to die, and I want to be remembered for my life, my mind, my heart and my sense of humor, not for my death."

Meanwhile, the multipronged attack on the molecular details of the chemiosmotic processes which occur in cells and organelles of bacteria and eukaryotes continued in the laboratory at Glynn unabated. Thus, the electron transfer pathways were further defined, and the role of quinones in the electron transfer and hydrogen ion transport processes were investigated. Factors which regulate the activities of the various proton translocating ATP synthases were examined and the theoretical treatments of osmomechanical processes were extended. A few conceptual errors in Peter's theories as well as some technical problems, revealed in other laboratories around the world, were confirmed and corrected in the laboratory at Glynn. No matter who the proponent, in science, the truth will always out!

Interestingly, Peter's originality was not restricted to his science. When he founded his institute, he instructed his lawyers to form it as a limited company, forbidden to issue dividends on its shares, in order to avoid having a large number of directors. The lawyers protested because such a thing had never been done before, but the Charity Commissioners accepted it within only six weeks. Further, Mitchell elected to pay his staff in terms of his own unit of currency, which he called "the pax," from the Latin for "peace." The pax was defined as the value of the pound of January 1974, and the staff at Glynn therefore had their incomes fully protected against inflation.

Peter also became a registered silver dealer with his own trademark, and he refurbished an ancient knuckle press to stamp out his own silver pieces with a pressure of 400 tons. This monster machine was kept outside Glynn House in a shed built especially for it. Peter had fondly called it Rameses II because it stood upright and looked rather like a terrifying statue of the Egyptian Pharaoh. He was responsible for the design and the metal-work to make the dies and adapt the machine which once had produced cutlery in a Victorian factory.

In 1987 Peter stepped down as scientific director of the Glynn Research Foundation, and with Dr. Peter Rich assuming the role of scientific director, Peter went into semi-retirement. He retained the title of Honorary Director of the Foundation, however, and chose to concern himself with theoretical aspects of energy transductions, the philosophy of scientific endeavor, and the acquisition of funds for the Foundation. At that time, the Foundation had six directors called the Council of Management. The council periodically came to Glynn the day before a designated meeting, and all problems would be informally discussed over a dinner prepared by Helen. This custom would allow everyone to consider the problems at hand before the formal meeting would take place the next day. It proved to be helpful in provoking thought and in preparing the directors for new moves and conclusions. Minutes were taken only on the second day. The Glynn Research Laboratories thus continued to provide a stable home for an active research team and a stopping place for visiting scientists from all over the world. Hundreds of major scientific, literary and artistic figures visited and benefited from the atmosphere at Glynn, and Glynn continued to be enriched by their visitations.

Additionally, Glynn House served as a conference center for small scientific meetings concerned with any of a variety of topics. In March, 1983, for example, a conference entitled "The Glynn Consultation on Cytochrome Oxidase Vesicles" was held to stimulate thought and reach a consensus regarding the mechanism of action of the mitochondrial enzyme complex which reduces molecular oxygen to water. It was also called "The Octavian Conference" because the format for discussions was determined by an unusual arrangement involving an octagonal table made by Peter's son Jason, which was located in the Library, a room which had originally been constructed for the mansion as the prayer hall. About thirty authorities on cytochrome oxidase from all over the world attended this conference. During the sessions, eight people could sit at the table while the others stood or sat in chairs further back from the table. Each session began with a formal talk of about 15 minutes, and a forty minute discussion would then ensue. Only people sitting at the table were allowed to speak, and if someone wanted the floor, he would stand behind one of the eight chairs until that chair was voluntarily vacated. At first, several participants, particularly the Italians, wanted to make exceptions to the rule, but eventually the suggested procedure was followed, and bedlam was avoided. The arrangement worked beautifully, and concurrence was reached on many of the topics discussed. It served as a model for other small conferences.

In October, 1990 the Glynn Foundation celebrated its Silver Jubilee, the 25th anniversary. About 100 guests attended, all of whom paid their own travel and lodging expenses, and six prominent scientists presented formal talks. The meeting lasted just two days. During the first day, the meeting was open to all; the second day, however, only members of the Council were in attendance.

As enunciated by Karl Popper, there are two recognized paths for the development of a new postulate, one through deductive reasoning, and one through inductive reasoning. In deductive reasoning, we go through a series of logical steps and come to an inevitable conclusion. Thus, we can progress from the more general situation to the more specific. By contrast, in inductive reasoning we take a "leap in the dark," from the more specific to the more general. We start with the known and end with a conjectural possibility, a guess, the correctness of which we are uncertain. If we have arrived at a hypothesis by conjecture, then we must always return to the empirical method to test the validity of the idea. Since an idea in science can never be proven correct but can be proven incorrect, we proceed by subjecting the conjecture to attempted refutation. If we can successfully refute the idea, then it is wrong and we must guess again. If we fail, then we may be on to something!

In making the "leap," we use methods for limiting the fields of guesswork. Thus, we inch as far forward as possible by deductive reasoning before we come to the boundary of our knowledge, and when we attempt imaginative conjectural induction, we base it on deduction to the extent possible so that we increase our chances of being right. There seem to be three probable reasons why some people usually guess wrong while others consistently guess right. First, some people have a better understanding of the available factual material than others and therefore start their leap from a point closer to the conclusion. To reach their conclusion, they must guess less wildly than the person who has less relevant factual material in mind. These people are consequently more likely to be right. Second, some people can better recognize that existent conceptual models are relevant and can serve as guides for understanding a novel situation. Thus, recognition of mechanistic similarities between two processes, one understood, the other ill defined, can lead to clarification of the latter process with minimal expenditure of effort. The third reason may deal with innate "intuitive" characteristics which are not yet understood by modern day science. Irrespective of this possibility, however, the conjectural process is at least in part intelligent guess work. Einstein noted that this ability may be cultivated by an "intellectual love" of the objects of Natural Philosophy. This intellectual love, however, which may be based on an emotional response, provides the motivational basis for taking the leap, and if sufficiently strong, it will cause the person to want to repeat the conjectural process until it proves (by the process of refutation) to be correct. The process of repetition provides practice, so that the experimenter becomes a more competent guesser.

The scientific process can benefit from consideration of the process by which art is created. Thus, the art historian E.H. Gombrich has suggested that portrait painters don't convey directly to the canvas the image they perceive; rather, they form a conception of the person and paint that. The artist, like the scientist, must proceed by a process of conjecture followed by refutation. If the initial conception is far from reality, the portrait will not be accurate. However, in art, reality may not be the goal; the artist may appreciate and therefore wish to emphasize specific qualities, and these qualities may have artistic value. Interestingly, in a similar way, a scientist may gain insight into a problem by emphasizing a singular aspect of that problem. However, in contrast to the artist, he must eventually return to the object, for the goal of science is accurate description, i.e., an approach to reality, and if this principle is abandoned the scientist runs the risk of entering the realm of art. Thus, to remain objective, the scientist, in contrast to the artist, is bound to the empirical methods, and the appreciative method for choosing an explanation may be misleading. It should be noted, however, that for a specific scientist, the appreciative approach may be advantageous, bringing him closer to reality.

These two approaches are generally in use for converting subjective conjecture into objective knowledge. Since acceptance of an idea depends on communication, it is clear that a close association between teaching and research is vitally important in the cultural, scientific process. The fact that different scientists have different aptitudes and backgrounds explains why they see a problem from different reference points and why they may trust one empirical approach over another. However, we can all benefit from the differences exhibited by individual members of society if we are capable of free communication. In order to communicate effectively, we must all understand each other¹s analytical languages. Finally, it should be recognized that Art and Science are the achievements of humanity. Thus, there are no secrets or treasures of science or art, there are only secrets or treasures of humanity, and these may be expressed in the medium which we call science or art. We achieve only by virtue of those who achieved before us, and consequently the wise man recognizes his limitations and cultivates practical humility.

Why are Science and Art important to humanity? Not merely because they provide the basis for practical applications, but because they allow us, through education and enlightenment, to perceive the marvellous and delicate complexities of our world and ourselves and to appreciate beauty in all things. These two major cultural subdivisions allow us to develop meaningful values, habits and pursuits. The gentle art of open-minded enquiry should facilitate communication across barriers of dogmatism and create a consensus for the elimination of world suffering.

Peter Mitchell has always thought of himself as a gadfly. Occasionally his sense of humor irritates people sufficiently so as to make them jump a bit and respond. In this way he avoids playing the game of the quest for truth too seriously. Anything taken too seriously can become a bore.

For decades scientists, artists and writers have been invited by the Mitchells to stay at Glynn House, discussing ideas over superb dinners fixed by Helen, sleeping on unusual ideas and recapitulating them in the morning. And from confrontation and bitterness has nearly always emerged consensus and friendship. The Mitchells have long believed that gentleness and respect for one¹s fellows, meeting in small groups for Socratic discussion, and pulling the teeth of animosities over good food and wine can solve many of the world¹s problems.

"Appreciation is a wonderful thing. It makes what is excellent

in others belong to us as well."

Voltaire