Molecular malaise in cell biology

On the face of it, cell biology is booming. Advances in laser optics and multi-photon
techniques are producing ever brighter and sharper pictures of cells, even live ones.
Fluorescent labels make it possible to find out which regions of the genome are
transcribed when; and to track any and every protein in action within the cell.
These images are living chronicle of the astonishing diversity of molecular species that
the cell uses in ‘signal transduction’ and downstream processes; the multitude of genes
and non-gene regions of the genome transcribed, the coding messages translated into
protein and transported to the organelles to transform material and energy, to remodel
the cell’s cytoskeleton, to power arrays of molecular motors, not to mention the
battalions of molecular pumps in the cell membrane that must be energized to keep out
unwanted ions and metabolites, the receptors and gates that must be flipped open to let
the nutrients in through special ‘channels’ and to discharge secretions and wastes to the
outside. And all that molecular ‘hardware’ the cell churns up and replaces with unseemly
haste and extravagance as it goes about its business of living.

It simply defies the imagination to figure out how the cell can keep changing shape and
substance yet maintain its unmistakable identity, or else, even more mysteriously,
manage to switch identity to become a different kind of cell. And above all, no matter
what it does, a cell never loses its sense of being an organising, organized whole.
There is a dearth of new ideas that can lift cell biology out of the pervasive molecular
malaise that has infected all of the life sciences to varying degrees in this post-genomics
era: a proliferation of molecular hardware and data, with no modicum of general
understanding on the horizon.

Strong Medicine Needed
Strong medicine is needed; and I have no hesitation in recommending Gilbert Ling’s
latest book. But, like any strong medicine, it is not for the faint-hearted. I only took it
after plenty of encouragement, which is what I hope to pass on to you.
I met Ling for the first time at the prestigious Gordon Research Conference on Interfacial
Water in Cell Biology in Mount Holyoke (Bradley, Massachusetts, USA) in June 2004. He
gave one of the two keynote lectures the first evening, and speaker after speaker
referred to him throughout the week. He was the undisputed hero of the day. It was his
moment of triumph after half a century of relative obscurity. Everyone, including me,
cheered silently for him, and wished him well with all our heart, as though our own
destiny and repute depended on it.

Ling was the hero among a select bunch of fiercely independent and original scientists in
the true sense of the word, motivated by the quest for knowledge of nature above all
else, setting aside personal prestige, politics, worldly success; often at great personal
sacrifice and hardship. Many of the scientists, like Gilbert Ling, have not been afraid to
ask big questions, such as posed by the celebrated quantum physicist Erwin Schrödinger
sixty years ago: "What is life?" It is indeed a mistake to call such scientists ‘mavericks’
and ‘dissenters’, because there is nothing arbitrary about their refusal to accept the
conventional theory that’s riddled with holes and falsehoods; and no coincidence that
they are converging on a more accurate view of what life is.

Ling’s thesis is so important, and so original, that his books should have been read and
understood by everyone at least ten, if not twenty years ago. Sadly, to answer the big
question he is after, or to recognize the answer, requires an understanding of both
physical and biological sciences to a degree that’s beyond most scientists. I know,
because I had tried to read an earlier book of his 20 years ago, before I was quite ready,
and failed almost completely to comprehend it.

This time round, I was determined to discover for myself what it was that had inspired
so many other scientists at the Gordon Conference; and I was thrilled to get an
autographed copy of the latest book from the author himself.

Yet, I had to put the book down five times before finishing it some three months after I
began. Ling has made even his latest book unnecessarily difficult by reproducing
innumerable graphs from his scientific papers, often shrunk down to the point of
illegibility and heavily annotated with small print besides.

The subtitle "The Hidden History of a Fundamental Revolution in Biology" may explain
why Ling has gone to such lengths to document his own work and the contribution of
others with abundant notes and references (557 in all), which also chopped up the text
and spoiled the flow. My advice therefore is to get on with the text, ignoring both the
graphs and notes, only checking them if you feel you must. You will be rewarded
towards the end, as I was.