A New Frontier in Biology: Embracing Goals Beyond the Mechanistic
A New Frontier in Biology: Embracing Goals Beyond the Mechanistic
I remember it was a crisp fall morning in Salt Lake. We were deep in conversation in a first floor room of the John Widstoe Building, one of the original stone buildings on University Circle at on the University of Utah Campus. I was a student and honestly don’t remember the name of the biology class—Biology 101? It was toward the end of class, and we fell into an open discussion with Professor Park about the latest trends in biological research. One of my classmates—I still remember his name—Tom—was eager to make an impression, and said, "So, the goal of our study is to prove that this new gene therapy will..."
Before he could finish, Professor Park held up his hand, his expression a mixture of concern and amusement. "Careful with that word, ‘goal,’” he said with a wry smile. “Remember, we're scientists, not fortune-tellers. In science, we don’t have goals; we have questions.”
This seemingly innocuous interaction reveals the wariness, perhaps taboo, surrounding the use of the term "goal" in the context of scientific research. The idea of goals conjures concerns of bias, preconceived notions, and desired outcomes—things that science, with its insistence on objectivity, rigor, and neutrality, seeks to avoid.
The Philosophical Roots of Teleology
This skepticism toward goals in scientific discourse is not a recent phenomenon but is deeply entrenched in the philosophical underpinnings of Western thought, though talk of goals was there at the beginning. The Greek concept of “telos”—meaning end, purpose, or goal—was pivotal for Aristotle, who firmly believed that nature operates with inherent purposes. In his Physics and Metaphysics, Aristotle posited that every living entity is driven by an ultimate end. An acorn’s telos, for instance, is to become an oak tree.
However, this perspective, although influential, would eventually clash with the modern scientific method’s demand for empirical evidence and testability. As science evolved, the focus shifted away from questions of purpose and towards mechanisms—how things happen, not why.
New Paradigms in Biology
Today, the term "goal" is making a surprising comeback. This week on our biology podcast, I interviewed Mike Levin, a biologist whose research ventures into unconventional places. Levin’s work with bioelectricity—examining the electrical networks among cells— suggests that cells exhibit a form of “intelligence” and display what might be described as “goal-oriented” behavior.
One of Levin’s notable experiments involves manipulating the bioelectric fields of nematode worms, resulting in the development of additional heads—an outcome achieved not by altering genetic material but by modulating the cells’ electrical environment. Similarly, Levin has managed to induce tadpoles to grow eyes on their tails. These findings suggest that cellular networks possess an intrinsic capability to achieve certain “goals,” which could revolutionize our approach to modern biomedical science.
The Evolution of Scientific Paradigms
Since the Enlightenment, science progressively distanced itself from teleological explanations. The objective has been to decipher the mechanisms of nature through observation and experimentation, rather than speculating about purpose or design. Richard Feynman, renowned for his eloquent lectures and forthrightness, famously asserted that “the first principle is that you must not fool yourself—and you are the easiest person to fool.” To Feynman, having a goal meant risking the integrity of the research process by becoming too attached to a particular outcome, making it all too easy to interpret data in a way that aligns with one’s expectations. The term "goal" began to carry connotations that seemed unscientific, implying intention and desire rather than the detached pursuit of knowledge.
But we must ask, “intention at what level?” When thinking of Aristotle’s work, let us separate the levels of focus: there is a person’s mind and brain, and there are the other organs or tissues; then there is the cell, and finally the DNA code. Or we may think of plants at various levels. Remember Aristotle’s example of the acorn having the goal to be a tree? (There is also a lot of new research into plants and plant behavior.) Levin’s approach introduces a compelling shift: he explores goals at the level of cellular networks rather than the brain or consciousness. This shift in focus prompts us to reconsider the role of goals not just in higher cognitive processes but at more fundamental biological levels.
A science like that of psychology or anthropology which has mostly to do with human minds and brains has been ok with the term “goal.” But the more fundamental you go--basic biology, chemistry, and especially physics, the compelling case has been that there is no goal, no intention, no “designer.” The universe is random. It does not have a goal. Biological evolution has been random as well, in that genetic mutations happen completely by chance as an error in duplicating the DNA code. Mutations lead to a different phenotype, or interaction of the organism with its environment, and that environment either favors it or not. But this favor has nothing to do with goals. How can an environment have a goal?
This has been the biology of Richard Dawkins outlined in his very influential book from 1976, The Selfish Gene. The real important level to study is that of the gene because natural selection takes place at the genetic rather than species or individual level, he argued. And for Dawkins, natural selection is random. Dawkins would disagree with Aristotle that the nut has a goal to be a tree. It is the nut’s genome which turns it into a tree, and that genome has no goals, only passive instructions.
Mike Levin, on the other hand, finds it more interesting to focus on the levels between the gene and the individual. This would be networks of cells, and he sees their goal-making and goal-achievement as providing an alternative blueprint for biology. It could also lead to powerful new approaches to medicine. Mike says he can imagine biological machines —already in our bodies, no need for ingesting a drug— being “reprogrammed” to find and repair damaged DNA, tissue, and organs. Levin argues that the bioelectricty between all networks of cells came about, obviously, before our brains, and was a kind of proto brain, able to be intelligent and keep track of a goal.
Reductionism and Beyond
The past century of biological research has predominantly adhered to reductionism—the idea that complex phenomena can be understood by breaking them down into their chemical components. The Human Genome Project epitomized this quest, promising to decode the mystery of biology. The result of all the sequencing we have done on the human genome has yielded some great scientific and medical breakthroughs. For example, we now have for the first time genetic based diagnostics and new drugs for Alzheimer’s disease. Still, sequencing the human genome has also revealed vast stretches of “junk DNA” and underscored the importance of gene regulation. Genomics is becoming more, not less, complicated.
You might say we are now in the “post-genomic” era. Researchers are more open to looking elsewhere, for example to the human proteome, the complete set of proteins. Levin’s work represents a provocative departure from reductionism, suggesting that biological phenomena might also be illuminated by considering intermediate levels of organization and function.
Science thrives in the fertile soil of uncertainty, where each discovery leads to further questions and unexpected pathways. As Freeman Dyson aptly observed, “Science is a mosaic of partial and conflicting visions.” Levin’s research, by reintroducing the concept of goals into the conversation at intermediate biological levels, challenges us to remain open to new paradigms.
My old teacher Professor Park was absolutely right. We should always be ready to be surprised by the universe rather than imposing predetermined outcomes.