Moralizing, Mythologizing, and the Future of Nobel Prizes
- Bookshelf
- October 8, 2023
I have written elsewhere on the transition of universities to businesses with economic interests that aren’t any different from corporations—marketing and branding strategies are not the stuff of imagined boardrooms, shady figures, and questionable ethics; they apply equally to universities, and the student is the customer/client. With the award of the 2023 Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine, science has become increasingly corportized.
Before winning the award, mRNA vaccines had been controversial. Many doubted their effectiveness when compared to traditional methods, and there were other constraints, ultimately resolved through later technological developments, that turned the research into a financially risky bet. Under these pressures, the inventors were essentially pushed out of their academic posts and had little choice but to continue this research in industry. COVID-19 accelerated the research, and alongside much needed technological developments for portable storage and transport, mRNA vaccines would become a tremendous success with a complex origin story ripe for mythologizing.
The public dialogue around this new hero myth is on the evil, corrupt forces of the university, suppressing our heroes. But fortunately, as if real life had been written by Any Rand, the heroes did escape to the free market, and it is only here that they could save the world. We can’t help but trivialize the university in this tale—to wonder how surprisingly broken it is and whether it should even exist. A tendency to moralize here suggests that the public perceives science and the university as independent, non-corporate or non-economic entities (often called non-profits, which can be a deceptive term; money still flows in, and the flow depends on a business, marketing or corporate model, suggesting that a product is created and sold even if the transaction is more abstract.).
At worst, the public assumes, universities suffer mostly from politicking, egoism, and bureaucracy. In other words, it is less a business than it is a government entity, which hides the fact that both (governments and universities) are economic in nature. To some extent, this is recognized. And for these people, the university is simply an example of a poorly structured business that may be profitable but inefficient, selling a suboptimal product.
To think about the early days of mRNA vaccines, we must look at the business of the university and academic science. Plainly, mRNA vaccines seemed like a bad bet. Academically, this meant that it wasn’t competitive for grants and it wasn’t funded. It may seem like academic pettiness and egoism played a part, which can never be ruled out, but such pettiness is rarely unfounded; there are, as there were with mRNA vaccines, legitimate questions about the research. Eventually, this changed for mRNA vaccines. Advancements in sequencing technology, genetic engineering, and storage made the mRNA vaccine financially less risky. So, its success is far more complex than the current dialogue and the hero myth lets on.
Because we either can’t or don’t want to see universities as just businesses in this scenario, which would end the the the dialogue right there, two conflicting viewpoints emerge: The university is a place where we deposit our ideals and lofty ideas about the world and society and yet since the university is also undeniably a business, it’s inefficient or suboptimal in its business dealings. Hence, it is economically degraded.
This tension speaks to a larger trend that has been degrading historically non-economic institutions, even though they may be, as I’ve argued, economic–as everything, in some capacity, must be. In explaining this tension, we may look at the secular, religious themes that permeate universities and governments; mission statements and mythologies that are likened to the identity-constructing and affirming proclamations of faith that appear in religious ceremonies and rituals. It may be unsurprising, then, that people saw UPenn’s sudden support for and celebration of the mRNA vaccine as duplicitous. The tension that defines our era dictates that we expect more of universities –they after all embody are greatest virtues, at least historically, we’ve been taught — but they are at odds with the sleek corporations of our work lives.
Let’s reframe the UPenn case in purely economic terms. If an investor put a million dollars into an early stage company, investing nothing more in the next funding round, no one would laugh at the investor who, detached from the company, congratulates its success in the future. That’s just business. And the company warmly receives the congratulations because the later success was dependent on that early investment. Again, that’s just business. So, why the outrage? Why the controversy? This, I think, perfectly demonstrates the tension I defined above, torn as we are between the desire for a moral, mythical, and mystical world and the mechanized, corporate world that we no choice but to occupy most of the time. Instances of moral outrage, as with this case, almost always tie into a fear that there isn’t moralizing in business, that economies are at bedrock inhuman, and if the world is essentially economic, society must occupy an inhuman space. The reaction is to seek out any content or institution ripe for moralizing or myth-building. Old institutions that safeguard humanity’s cultural heritage are the most obvious opportunities. Though contemporary society, occupying a fully economic, corporatized world, isn’t emotionally attached to the values these institutions embody. Some might might say, “Sure, religion is great” or “Sure, the university is great”; but few people, when pushed for clarification, could justify these statements.
The detachment makes institutions, such as universities — that may safeguard cultural heritage and history — more disposable than we might imagine. As if pulled to them by a tradition, staying for a time among the fond memories, we realize like sun-scorched travelers roaming the desert that the values and traditions of old may be mirages. They are artifacts. And our relationship to them has us playing either the marauder or the archeologist.
For all the benefits and possibilities of a connected, information society, it seems like we’re information archeologists–skilled manipulators of data, preservers of the flame. But the public dialogue, and media coverage that supports it, is consistent with moral marauding–nomads without strong historical ties; nomads lacking a distinct culture , an identity, and a set of core values that travel the land in search of places of tradition and value; often, it doesn’t end well, and everything is reduced to dust.
My goal is to discuss this phenomenon in greater detail below, drawing out the future implications for society and what we might call great scientific achievements, historically recognized with awarded Nobel Prizes. Although I can’t make moral claims — about whether social trends are absolutely right or wrong, I am in it as much as anyone else, I can observe the terrain and construct an image of the world that awaits on the horizon
The Philosophical Overtones of the Debate
While listening to the debate on UPenn and their supposed unjust support of former faculty that were awarded the 2023 Nobel prize for their work on mRNA vaccines, I thought it indicated a much deeper dialogue, hidden beneath the moral shaming. Whenever an ethical position is taken it is by necessity (by the unseen forces of tradition) religious. It’s therefore far from a trivial social media squabble; rather, it is a window into philosophical systems, fossils, artifacts and myths. Our common neurophysiology ties us to a broad cultural heritage; new information breaks many old connections, values are reinterpreted, and the world seems radically new; and yet it is the world made new through perspective, which is to say, the shadow of the past always remains. I therefore couldn’t help but see the ongoing debate through a theological lens.
Scholars have previously noted a widespread secularizing trend (for example, the growing number of “nones” or people claiming no religious belief). The “nones” are in reality believers without affiliation. Human nature (neurophysiology) denies disbelief. It is a matter of denying otherworldly or supernatural qualities here and inserting them somewhere else (framing them in more palatable or intellectually mature terms, e.g., quantum mechanics, consciousness, economics, complexity theory, self-regulating systems or pure mathematics such as symmetry and recurring patterns and relationships embodied in ratios).
All of those examples point to, at bedrock, proto-religious, animating myths–infusing life into things, objects, or practices, giving them an almost mystical quality that’s makes our world seem more hospitable than one that’s subject to the laws of nature. What French philosopher Henri Bergson referred to as elan vital or vital impulse when describing the self-organizing characteristics of living organisms, though as far as humans are concerned, these characteristics may be transferred to things—making them very much alive (Tim Obrien’s war novel The Things They Carried is a good example of this animating power as well). For the Ancient Greeks, scholarly work — teaching, philosophy, and mathematics — was similarly infused with an otherworldly quality. What we might call a vocation today–that one is “called to” or has a “duty to” act.
With recent attacks on the credibility of the university — and what I see as the “storehouse” of value – it seems like a digital, tech-dominant economy is forcing us to explore new myths, valuing technique, method, and efficiency instead. However, this shift is incompatible with old traditions.
We must become the individual who calls out the university for failing to meet its lofty standards while mocking its inefficient business practices. In doing so, the value is transferred from the the university “storehouse” to an economic technique or method, and, after depleting the value, we must go looking elsewhere; logically, to the economic principles that saved that day, bringing the vaccines from the suppressive academic lab to the modern, corporate complex.
The global economy is, however, not mythical or value-rich on its own. And that’s a problem. It lacks ethics, heroes, and legends; the mystery or allure it does possess is channeled from elsewhere, originating, for example, from traditions, histories, and ideals; in this context, governments and universities have historically sheltered our ideas, concepts, and myths about the world from often cruel and inhuman facts.
So, in building an economic hero myth at the expense of the university that had initially incubated the ideas, it implies a trend that is making society increasingly susceptible to mechanization or, as I said above, the inhuman facts.
Why not the Economy?
It’s reasonable to ask why this is even concerning. Time’s change, myths change, etc. Broken institutions become obsolete and they could the way of all abandoned and forgotten places–to the soil and the weeds. Yet whereas nature in some sense, given its creative prowess, may make concrete flower, our abilities for such apparent magic are steadily decreasing in the wake of lives that are too fast and too busy to imagine or think deeply about alternative possibilities. The meaning is attached to whatever is accessible. A new and better world can’t exist because we have destroyed the narratives, under the influence of economic forces, that tell us how the world once was. “Better” is without meaning; it’s the belief or position that’s most convenient (biologically economical or energy-saving) to hold or take.
We can see the dilemma in Francis Fukuyama’s End of History thesis (1), where he projects liberal democratic and capitalistic institutions would become so pervasive that history — that is, the history of the humanities — would also end. Obviously, history doesn’t truly come to an end. Events happen sequentially, but the sequence becomes as routine as the rising and setting sun each day. History becomes so boring there’s nothing worthwhile in its telling.
So, similarly, we might conclude that our myths — the deeply personal and life-affirming narratives — are at risk of being just plain boring. Certainly, like the description of history above, the myths don’t go away. They fail to move us. And that’s what’s concerning.
In the final section, I want to turn more to future implications, moving away from the observations (of the social currents) I’ve outlined throughout the article/essay. To make this less speculative, I focus on the Nobel Prize and its historical role in affirming human values. It therefore is a strong marker of a changing society and the values it holds. We may then imagine a future Nobel Prize, and decide if that’s a world we should run to or from.
Future Nobel Prizes
If we just look at the history of the Nobel and attempt to categorize the mRNA vaccine relative to previous awards, it seems like the inhuman facts are moving in. The vaccine is more corporate technology than an idea from academic laboratories. For instance, corporate successes arise from scores of people working in teams, realistically, across multiple companies. In a way, strangely, the academic or university research origin of the mRNA vaccine is the only thing that permits the assignment of credit, keeping with the Nobel tradition. But we must also acknowledge that the award celebrates a technological achievement that would not be be possible without advancements from corporate R&D, many that have nothing to do with vaccine development per se. This complexity is the nature of science at the level of industry. The recognition, if it’s to be assigned in this corporate setting, must go to the administrative effort. Obviously, however, this is no longer celebrating a scientific achievement in the traditional sense but the ability to manage immense technological resources to solve historically intractable scientific problems. It is more so the elevating the technology, which is not necessarily linked to foundational knowledge. This variety of knowledge might be defined by posing a question: Do we understand something about the natural world now that was missing yesterday, so to speak? Have uncovered an equation that describes not only one instance (or example) but a possible instances.
As a society, we’re already more prepared to celebrate tech, which is experiential and intimate, compared to intellectual work from a university laboratory, which is typically what the Nobel Committee has recognized, but this kind of intellectual work often lacks clear monetary value.
With the 2023 award, we see increasing sympathy for non-academic work and corporate tech and in the public’s response a devaluing of the university and what many see as its economically suboptimal methods and protocols (it’s an economic dinosaur so to speak). But we need myths, and if historic institutions that protect them lose credibility — for no other reason than they seem economically inefficient — the bare, inhuman facts will push back.
We will have to feverishly attach mystery to everything. It is all conspiratorial—friends are enemies, the line between prison and freedom is blurred, and mind-numbing tech becomes a great discovery. The popular response to the 2023 Prize is very telling.
Popular science writers have already suggested AlphaFold, an algorithm that predicts 3D protein structures, is a viable future Nobel candidate. AlphaFold, if you’re not familiar, was developed by DeepMind (Google/Alphabet Inc.). The science writer I’m referring to assumed that AlphaFold had solved a longstanding problem in biology, so big and intractable, it’s been known among scientists simply as “the folding problem.” The problem focuses on how a linear (1D) sequence–first DNA and mRNA sequences, then, the linear sequence of amino acids (protein building blocks), which is translated from the mRNA—folds into the familiar 3D structures of enzymes and receptors.
Biologists discovered proteins named chaperones facilitate the folding; though, if you’re paying attention, a paradox emerges, since the chaperone is itself a protein. Avoiding the infinite regress of “turtles all the way down,” folding must predate the evolution of proteins. It seems like there should be mathematical/physical principles of self-organization that drive the folding. To discover these, perhaps new laws of biology, would be remarkable.
While AlphaFold has generated structures for all known proteins — depositing them in an online database, certainly a remarkable computational achievement — it hasn’t solved the original basic science question. In this example, we see yet another instance of reframing a deep problem or idea in methodological terms. Earlier, we saw this in the public response to the mRNA Nobel Prize—that had many reframing the university, which safeguards or incubates ideas, as petty and economically inefficient. When the algorithm, technique or method succeeds, then, we wrongly infer that the problem has gone away, as with AlphaFold.
To clarify, as some may wonder why it didn’t solve the problem, the algorithm was trained (the technical term being supervised) using 3D distances measured from experimentally determined structures (for example, using x-ray crystallography). Clearly, nature didn’t have access to 3D protein structures to solve the folding problem. Accordingly, we’ve created a useful tool, a piece of technology, but we have not revealed nature’s deep mysteries. And it’s unclear that’s a crowning achievement in the tradition of Einstein’s Relativity or molecular mechanisms of memory, which were achievements of knowledge. The writer’s suggestion that we have solved the problem, and that the solution is Nobel-worthy, is likely because the nascent myths we’re constructing are strongly linked to corporate hype and profitability. And in this world, nothing is real–anything is possible. Everything can be a crowning achievement if it’s economically impactful.
Only a future time can say for sure what will come of these social tremors. But we should imagine possible futures to actively shape our world rather than accept the corporate, mechanizing forces that are already acting on our values and cultural heritage.
