21. Ultimate Causes

From Advice for a Young Investigator (tr. Swanson).  The book is a revised publication of Cajal's speech upon induction into the Academia de Ciencias Exastas, Físicas y Naturales on December 5, 1897:

"Another commonplace worth repeating is that science cannot hope to solve Ultimate Causes.  In other words, science can never understand the foundation hidden below the appearance of phenomena in the universe.  As Claude Bernard has pointed out, researchers cannot transcend the determinism of phenomena; instead, their mission is limited to demonstrating the how, never the why, of observed changes.  This is a modest goal in the eyes of philosophy, yet an imposing challenge in actual practice.  Knowing the conditions under which a phenomenon occurs allows us to reproduce or eliminate it at will, therefore allowing us to control and use it for the benefit of humanity.  Foresight and action are the advantages we obtain from a deterministic view of phenomena."

It is continually fascinating to me to read about Cajal's humility.  He believes that the drilling human intellect will never penetrate some final, first layer of causes.  I think it is fair to call this unknowable knowledge "divine," in Cajal's vocabulary and association.  His satisfaction with his cosmic situation is, in my opinion, a facet of his unique genius.  I have excerpted from his explanation of his religious beliefs here, beginning at "Let us console . . ."

To understand a religious man you must understand his religion.  Cajal was not traditionally devout, but was undeniably formed in some part by Catholic education.  (I find this in his section of his Don Quixote essay where he argues that pain is the "Whip of Emotions").  He believes in something higher; something that may be material, but will never materialize.  Her name (and it is certainly feminine for a Quixote such as Cajal) could be Nature (or Truth).  She is a scientific God, in that she behaves deterministically.  To know her is to make a discovery, at which point a "veil is lifted from before (the) eyes," to quote Cajal's autobiography Recollections of My Life.  The scientist is "minister of progress, priest of the truth, and a confidant of the Creator" (Advice).

I must identify Cajal's God in order to understand his life, I said it at the beginning.  And it's coming into focus.

20. Knowing, Creating & the Ideal

I found a couple of passages in Charlas de café (1921) that I decided to translate.  The first is a perfect articulation and ordering of mental capacities:

"Creating and knowing. — It is good to know the name and properties of all the flowers, but it is even better to create a new flower."

On his famous "questionnaire," Proust gave (in my opinion) his most brilliant answer to the following question: "What is your favorite flower?"  Hers, wrote Proust.  In that spirit, I chose an image of the favorite flower of a female friend.  Calla Lilies.  I love the liquid words as much as the flowing image.  But what's the difference anyway, if we are to create the new?  Cajal created a a beautiful little garden in the brain.  His caution against encyclopedic knowledge echoes that of the Taoists and Goethe, to use two not un-related examples.  He never appreciated the rote memorization he was forced to practice as a youth in school.  His excelled visually; he would gaze at a slide until his memory had finished its coding, and then he would go outside for a walk.  When he returned, he was able to perfectly draw the intricacies of nerve cells.  I believe the word for this is "eidetic memory."  Cajal was motivated by discovery, by progress.  It is important to find a balance between introspection and expression.

But what is progress?  Does it really exist?  Can we ever gain a full understanding of the universe and our place in it?  Cajal treats this potentially defeatist doubt in the second passage with his trademark grace and humility:

"Ideal of science. — Because we live in full mystery, struggling against unknown forces, we try as much as possible to clarify it.  We are not disheartened by the poverty of our effort before the great and innumerable problems of life.  Our arduous labor concluded, we will be forgotten, like the seed in the furrow; but something will console us, the consideration that our descendants will owe us part of their joy and that, thanks to our initiatives, the world, that is, that miniscule part of Nature, object of our strivings, will turn out to be a little more agreeable and intelligible."

Cajal's relationship to his ideals interests me.  He is fiercely romantic, a Quixote deep in his heart, and yet he cultivated a psychological harmony that allowed him to maximize his talents in this world.  His professional life was so fulfilling that one might say it approaches the ideal for an investigator.  But in essence, Cajal seems to be saying that the ideal is much more prosaic.  It is ashes to ashes, dust to dust, but ultimately progress is continued, Nature remains.  By lowering himself, he achieved heights.  He contributed, like other giants in the history of human thought, to the grand narrative of progress.  His paternal instinct is apparent in the quote, so it is indeed fitting to call him the "father of (modern) neuroscience."

I'll translate some more passages of this length later this week.  After a few months of writing this blog, I'm still not sure who actually reads it.  I don't expect or require an audience.  But if you are out there, reader, I would love to hear what you think.  I'm deeply involved with Cajal, so everything I learn about him is interesting to me.  I would love to hear what stimulates you, reader.  Because learning is only half the battle; I have to convince people in the humanities that Cajal is an important figure.  Of course I think it's an easy sell, but that means nothing.

Happy 2010.