LINUS PAULING: NOBEL LAUREATE FOR PEACE AND CHEMISTRY
1901-1994
The biography of two-time
Nobel laureate Linus Pauling may be just as extraordinary for its twists
as for its peaks. Why did a boy who studied advanced mathematics at twelve
years old nearly decide not to attend college? Why was he called unpatriotic
and ousted from his job at Cal Tech while he led the struggle for the Nuclear
Test Ban Treaty? And why is a Nobel laureate for chemistry still being called
a 'fraud" and a "quack" by opponents of his "orthomolecular medicine"? Few
would dispute the scientist-activist's creativity and independent thought.
Beyond that, however, the life and career of Linus Pauling have seen controversy
at nearly every turn.
Pauling grew up in a German immigrant family in Portland, Oregon; the son
of a pharmacist, he gained early scientific experience watching his father
behind the counter. Pauling's father recognized and encouraged his son's
extraordinary curiosity, as evidenced by a letter he wrote to the Portland
Oregonian when his son was nine years old. The elder Pauling, seeking reading
suggestions for Linus, wrote, "don't say the Bible and Darwin's 'Origin
of the Species,' because he has already read them." An eager and independent
student, Pauling remembered being fascinated with entomology at 11, geology
at 12, and chemistry at 13.
His father died when Linus was nine years old, leaving Mrs. Pauling with
a larger family than she could support. Linus therefore worked as soon as
he was old enough to do so, but he found time throughout his childhood and
youth to study science—and any number of other things—on his
own.
According to Pauling,
he was drawn to chemistry by a childhood friend: "This boy, Lloyd Alexander
Jefress ... had various chemicals that he had gotten perhaps at the drugstore,
and he carried out some reactions. And that interested me very much." Thus
began Pauling's career in chemistry, taking off with extracurricular reading
throughout his teenage years. Pauling remembered an exchange few fourteen-year-olds
have with their elders: 'I was visiting my grandmother in Oswego, Oregon,
and she said to me, 'What are you going to be when you grow up, Linie?'
And I said, 'I am going to be a chemical engineer.'"
The year before Jefress demonstrated chemical reactions for him, Pauling
had enrolled in advanced mathematics at his local high school when his principal
would not let him enroll simultaneously in two history courses. At twelve,
after several years of reading on his own, he was already building the academic
foundations for a life of science. However, the pressure to support his
mother weighed heavily on Pauling, and he went directly to work after graduating
from high school.
At sixteen Pauling worked
in a machine shop, then as a "paving inspector" for a local construction
company, a job that allowed him to "read chemical books" while the paving
plant ran. Despite his inclination to work full-time to support his mother,
Pauling eventually enrolled at Oregon Agricultural College, persuaded by
Lloyd Jefress's aunt and uncle that it was his "duty" to do so. Years later,
the chemist attributed his extraordinary productivity to the work ethic
demanded by his impoverished family's dependence on him.
Pauling worked throughout his higher education, even taking time off to
serve as a quantitative analysis instructor at his own college between his
sophomore and junior years. In 1922 he graduated from Oregon Agricultural
College, now Oregon State University, with a B.S. in chemical engineering.
He then went on to Cal Tech, where he completed his doctorate and enjoyed
a total of forty-one years as a student and professor of chemistry.
Pauling's early work included the "resonance theory," according to which
some molecules don't maintain a fixed structure, but rather "resonate between
different structures." He calls his first paper on resonance theory his
"most important" -- it was, he says, his most personally exciting, and was
especially significant for its explanation of molecular bonding patterns.
Pauling's early work
also included ground-breaking studies of hemoglobin and proteins, initiating
with the former a new field of medicine, "hemoglobinopathies," devoted to
the study of "diseases of molecules." Other work of cardinal importance
for modern biologists followed. "By 1948," Pauling says, "I discovered the
alpha-helix and the pleated cheats, the basis, the principal ways of folding
polypeptide chains and proteins. It was an important discovery." Disciples
prompted Pauling to formulate a theory of theorizing: "I am constantly asked
by students how I get ideas," he quipped. "My answer is simple. First, have
a lot of ideas. Then, throw away the bad ones."
In 1954 Pauling was awarded the Nobel Prize for Chemistry. Choosing among
many smaller achievements, the Nobel Committee cited his "research on the
nature of the chemical bond holding molecules together and its use in understanding
the structure of complex substances such as protein and antibodies."
Pauling frequently credits his wife as the catalyst of his professional
success, and calls their acquaintance "the event that had the greatest affect
on [his] life." He insists that he is not more intelligent than other scientists;
he is simply more active -- and his activity, Pauling says, was enabled
by Mrs. Pauling's support.
Pauling also credits his wife for helping to inspire his initial involvement
in nuclear disarmament -- she not only encouraged his activism, but also
exhorted him to study economics and social theory, so that he could understand
the issues he was trying to address and defend the positions he took. Characteristically,
Pauling recalls his activism in terms at once simple and grand: "I was working
toward the goal of a world without war."
"We have come," Pauling said simply, "to the time war ought to be given
up." War, he argued, had become too costly for all involved, too destructive
and with too dangerous a potential for all life. As he put it: "it no longer
makes sense."
The great product of
this outlook was Pauling's petition to end nuclear weapons testing, drafted
in 1957 by Pauling and two colleagues, Barry Commoner and Ted Condon. After
twenty-five other scientists signed the petition, Pauling and his wife mailed
copies to hundreds of scientists. Several weeks later Pauling was able to
send Dag Hammarskjold two thousand signatures of prominent American scientists
-- and the petition was just beginning to gain momentum. By the time it
stopped circulating, the petition had become an international movement,
and Bertrand Russell, Albert Einstein, and Albert Schweitzer were among
its 11,021 signers. Its great precipitant was the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty,
in which the United States and the U.S.S.R. agreed to cease testing nuclear
weapons.
Pauling was awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace on October 10, 1963, the day
the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty went into effect. The chairman of the Nobel
Committee declared that without a petition like Pauling's, there surely
would not have been such swift action for a ban on nuclear weapons testing
-- and perhaps there would have been no treaty at all. Without the treaty,
Pauling says, people all over the world would have suffered millions of
birth defects and a significantly higher incidence of cancer.
Pauling contends that scientists have a special responsibility to elucidate
and address such problems as the dangers of nuclear weapons testing. As
experts on issues few people understand, they have a duty, he says, to educate
the general public and advocate safe practices. In his day, Pauling created
a good deal of controversy by fulfilling his perceived obligation to apply
scientific knowledge to public safety. He recalled an early manifestation
of government suspicion: "A couple of days after my talk, there was a man
in my office from the FBI saying, 'Who told you how much plutonium there
is in an atomic bomb?' And I said, 'Nobody told me. I figured it out.'"
Even as he was on his way to becoming the only double Nobel laureate, Pauling
became an object of suspicion for his opposition to the United States' involvement
in the arms race.
Indeed, well before he was awarded a second Nobel Prize, Pauling's activism
effectively cost him his job at Cal Tech. His funding from the National
Institutes of Health was cut, along with that of forty other scientists.
And when he tried to go to the United Kingdom to deliver a lecture on protons,
the U.S. government denied his passport. Pauling recalls one of the explanations
he received: "'Your anti-communist statements haven't been strong enough.'"
For two years the State Department would not issue him a passport.. In 1954,
when he won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry, The New York Times brought the
controversy to light, and he was finally allowed to travel again. America's
lingering apprehension about Pauling's political alliances was made clear
by Life magazine, which called his Peace Prize a "Weird Insult from Norway."
Similar struggles plagued Pauling at Cal Tech. He studied and taught there
for forty-one years, first as a graduate student and then as a postdoctoral
instructor and professor. Under pressure from the Institute, however, he
resigned from its faculty in 1963. As Pauling learned later, a special committee
had been formed to seek reasons to fire him; finding no justification, the
Institute instead revoked his position as chair of his department, and,
the chemist recalls, "began sort of harassing me." Pauling remembers thinking
Cal Tech was "the best institution in the world." Nonetheless, he decided
it was best for him to resign under the circumstances of that time. Thereafter
he conducted research through other institutions, and became a professor
of chemistry at Stanford University in 1969, staying there only until 1973.
Implied allegations of communist sympathies were not the only source of
controversy in Pauling's career. Indeed, one by which he is far more often
remembered makes a surprising appearance in nearly any account of the chemist's
life.
Following the hiatus in which he devoted much time to education against
nuclear warfare and nuclear weapons testing, Pauling began his vitamin C
investigations, researching what he called "orthomolecular substances."
The chemist coined the term "orthomolecular" in a 1968 paper, in which he
set groundwork for much of his later research; he defined "orthomolecular
substances" as those which are "normally present in the human body and are
required for life." Initially struck by the low toxicity of such substances,
Pauling inquired: "since you can tolerate very much larger amounts [than
the RDA], even one thousand times larger, what are the amounts that would
put me and other people in the best of health?" For years Pauling studied
this question with regard to both physical and psychological ailments, especially
focusing on schizophrenia in the field he named "orthomolecular psychiatry."
If the first three epithets make him unique, the fourth surely adds a still
less expected twist to the career of Linus Pauling: chemist, peaceworker,
Nobel laureate, ... fraud? In the later years of his career, Pauling gathered
particular fame—and, to some, notoriety—for his advocacy of
vitamin C "megadosage." Indeed, the Boston Globe's obituary of August 21,
1994 hails him in its headline as "Two-time Winner of Nobel Prize; Vitamin
C Advocate." The Nuclear Test Ban Treaty and the chemical bond, arguably—and
according to Pauling himself—the scientist's greatest contributions
to humanity, only find their way into the obituary's second and third paragraphs,
respectively. Vitamin C, meanwhile, has brought Pauling great controversy,
and even prompted some opponents in the field of medicine to call him "fraud"
and "quack."
Pauling's advocacy of megadosage, some opponents say, is based on insubstantial
research and an alliance with a leading vitamin C distributor, Hoffmann-La
Roche, a primary contributor to the Linus Pauling Institute of Medicine.
(The Institute, founded in 1973, is devoted to the study of "orthomolecular
medicine.") Some go so far as to say that vitamin C is carcinogenic in large
quantities, and that Pauling has no truly scientific basis for his advocacy.
Pauling, in turn, contended that his only opponents were doctors whose livelihood
depended on pharmaceutical sales in "the sickness industry"—Pauling's
name for medicine in the United States.
Despite their persistence, however, Pauling's opponents neglect to address
the great chemist's own consumption of vitamin C. If he were intentionally
aiding vitamin manufacturers by advocating consumption levels he knew to
be dangerously high, why would he continue to supplement his own diet with
300 times (18,000 mg, compared to 60 mg RDA) the recommended daily value
of the vitamin? More than six years after the chemist's death, the vitamin
C debate continues, with each side making bold challenges and accusations.
Apart from the legacy of controversy, Pauling leaves a unique list of accomplishments.
First, he remains the only person to win two unshared Nobel Prizes. He wrote,
edited, or contributed to nearly fifty books, and published over 1,000 articles,
mostly related to chemistry and biochemistry, but also boldly advocating
peace in the face of arms race pressure to support weapons development.
He held more than forty honorary degrees from institutions of higher learning
worldwide. In interviews, he mentioned offhand that the inventor of Xeroxing
was one of his students and refers casually to opening new vistas of biochemical
research with his ideas, as in the groundwork he lay for the study of "molecular
diseases."
In many ways, however, Professor Pauling's impressive CV is a dim and
incomplete representation of his actual contributions to human well-being
and human knowledge. His direct impact on medicine, for instance, has done
much to enable DNA research, and to fight disease. As for his impact on
world peace, without Pauling, we may well be much more heavily afflicted
by birth defects and cancer caused by radiation. Beyond the impressive prizes,
degrees, and publications, Pauling emerges as a man with a conscience as
powerful as his intellect.
He and his wife, Ava, were members of the First Unitarian Church of Los
Angeles.
Linus Pauling was diagnosed
with cancer in 1991, and died August 19, 1994, at his ranch in Big Sur,
California. In addition to work that has permanently improved the fields
of chemistry, biochemistry, and peace activism, he leaves a simple statement
of resounding encouragement to his admirers: "You can contribute, and you
can't be sure how great your contribution is, but you can contribute, so
do it."
by Thomas Blair, Harvard College '03
Source: www.harvardsquarelibrary.org/unitarians
