Weissmann,  Gerald.   "The  Argument  from  Design"  
[Review  in] The Scientist,  21 September l987,  p. 
20.

[Weissman  is  a professor of medicine at  the  New 
York  University  Medical  Center,  New  York,  NY, 
10016,  and is the author of The Woods Hole Cantata 
(Dodd,  1985)  and They All Laughed at  Christopher 
Columbus (Times Books, 1987).]

Harold    Morowitz   is   a   distinguished    Yale 
biophysicist and former master of Pierson  College.  
[Morowitz  was  also  an ACLU witness in  the  1981 
Arkansas  "Creation Equal Time" case--SOR.]  He  is 
also  the  author of two  charming  collections  of 
essays:   The  Wine of Life and Mayonnaise and  the 
Origin of Life.  Morowitz spent his last sabbatical 
on  a  yacht docked off the West Maui mountains  in 
Hawaii.   In that yacht he produced a book that  is 
wise,   thoughtful  and  benign;   he  has  brought 
Teilhard  de  Chardin up to date to argue that  the 
laws  of physics and evolution reveal the  workings 
of a "plan or cosmic intelligence that somehow  had 
us in mind."

Morowitz arrives at his conclusion that it is "hard 
not to see design in a universe that works so well" 
after  a crisp review for the general reader of the 
rules of physics, the chemistry of genetics and the 
speculations  of  philosophy.   Dissenting  amiably 
from the strains of materialism found in the  works 
of  Stephen  Jay  Gould,  Jacques Monod  and  Peter 
Medawar,  Morowitz  emerges  as a champion  of  the 
argument from design.   He refuses to believe  that 
blind  chance  can  account for the  "richness  and 
beauty  of  existence."  His  heroes  are  Benedict 
Spinoza, Henri Bergson, Freeman Dyson and Teilhard, 
fellow  scientist-philosophers who have deduced the 
workings  of  a  universal  intelligence  from  the 
structure of matter.

In each chapter,  Morowitz displays those  didactic 
gifts that have made his monthly column in Hospital 
Practice  so  popular;  his learning  is  displayed 
without  pedantry  and lightened by  anecdote.   We 
learn  the  crystal  structure of  water  and  that 
Teilhard's grave is on the grounds of the  Culinary 
Institute  of America;  we hear how lipid  vesicles 
mimic membranes and how Chianti wine can ameliorate 
the gloom of astrophysics.   His cosmic joy derives 
from  the anthropic principle.   Morowitz persuades 
us that the music of the spheres is written in  the 
key of humankind.

But  these gentle musings fall short of  accounting 
for   "local  pain."   The  one  painful   incident 
recorded  in the course of that idyllic  sabbatical 
is a bee sting!  No dark night of the soul here, no 
anguish,  disease, or rude injustice.  I miss those 
scars   of  angst  that  brand  a  writer  who  has 
undergone  what  Wiliiam James  called  the  "great 
initiation" into the problem of evil.   Morowitz is 
embarrassed   at   playing   "cheerleader   for   a 
mysterious   cosmic   intelligence,"  a   sentiment 
justified by his inattention to the darkest aspects 
of the mind.   His argument from design is stronger 
on  whales  and  dwarfs than  it  is  on  childhood 
leukemia  or senile dementia.   Perhaps the harbors 
of  Hawaii and the laws of physics have titled  the 
scales  in  favor of cosmic joy:  the  index  lists 
"history"  and "radiation," but not "Auschwitz"  or 
"Hiroshima."

Like  Teilhard,  Morowitz  finds  that  the  cosmic 
intelligence  is  encoded in the  laws  of  nature.  
Away  from the waters of Maui that code is  perhaps 
more  garbled.   Would a walk through the slums  of 
New  Haven or the wards of its hospitals confirm or 
deny  that "the universe works so well?"  Only  Dr. 
Pangloss could tell for sure.


