by David R. Block ‘99

Not much longer to go, really. In just a matter of months, the Van Wickle Gates will swing outward, releasing another crop of Brown seniors from our comfortable campus into the real world. Amidst all of the pomp and circumstance, degrees will be conferred, speakers will address the soon-to-be alumni, and I and the others members of the Class of 1999 will end our undergraduate careers. Just thinking about the whole thing is a rather surreal and daunting experience: How did the years go by so quickly and what happens next?

I’ve spent a lot of time recently playing the role of the nostalgic senior, reflecting on my academic experience at Brown. As a biomedical ethics and biology concentrator, I have chosen the interdisciplinary route in my education, and am glad that I have done so. It has enabled me to see the powerful role that medicine and science assume beyond their traditional realms. The quest to gather scientific knowledge not only concerns the investigator searching for answers to a hypothesis or problem, but also those who will ultimately be affected (whether for better or for worse) by either the pursuit itself or the results of the study.

The dynamics of these interactions are so important that they form a major part of a branch of bioethics known as research ethics. If you read Dominika Bednarska’s feature in the Fall 1998 issue of The Catalyst, you already understand that scientific research is not completely objective: As human beings, we let our biases influence everything we do and every way we act. And when these prejudices begin not only to cloud objectivity but also respect for human persons–as in the decades-long Tuskegee Syphilis Study–we are powerfully and painfully reminded that though science has produced (and will continue to produce) much good, on numerous occasions researchers have jeopardized the lives of others in pursuit of some beneficent end. The study, begun in rural Alabama in the 1930’s and continuing through nearly four decades, initially enrolled hundreds of poor African-American men with syphilis to study the prevalence and control of the disease. Despite the development of antibiotics in the late 1940—representing an effective cure for syphilitics—the men in the Tuskegee Study were deliberately left untreated, so that the Public Health Service could learn more about the natural course of the disease in humans. When scientific curiosity unjustly overrides the welfare of individuals, we must do more than to simply recognize that such wrongs have occurred; we must ensure that they never happen again.

Hopefully, you’re reading The Catalyst now because you are interested in the interdisciplinary reach of the sciences. That’s why I joined this magazine my freshman year. At that time, The Catalyst was much more technically-oriented. In fact, there were a few articles that were probably suitable for journal publication. I started by writing on subjects like physician-assisted suicide and the impact of the Internet on society, but then took a "leave of absence" from writing to play a greater role in the production of the magazine. Over the past year or two, there has been a much-welcomed infusion of personal essays, poetry, and fiction onto these pages. Indeed, the cover of every issue now bears the motto, "Bridging the Gap Between the Humanities and Sciences," to reflect The Catalyst’s mission.

Why bother bridging that gap in the first place? Are the sciences and humanities analogous to Rudyard Kipling’s conception of East and West–never destined to meet? The answer to these questions is, perhaps, unexpectedly simple. Science and the humanities must be studied together for us to understand the world completely. Each subject helps us get closer to making full sense of our lives, but only if we look at both the humanities and the sciences together in a holistic manner can we develop a complete appreciation of our condition as human beings. Since human existence is multi-dimensional, it seems only natural that our study of it be similarly diverse.

Science on its own can be cold and detached; it consists of things like atoms, cells, forces, galaxies, and is splattered with complicated, often esoteric ideas: relativity theory, punctuated equilibrium, nucleophilic substitution. This quality often compels students to shy away from science courses. But science can also be wonderfully challenging and exhilarating. Imagine what it must have felt like for Watson and Crick following their discovery of the structure of DNA or when Edward Jenner found that individuals exposed to cowpox did not contract smallpox, thus forming the foundation of immunology. While you may not get this same sense of accomplishment in your organic chemistry lab, the discoveries in science’s past always lead to paths for further investigation and future breakthroughs.

Traditionally, the humanities have been viewed as antithetical to science. But I disagree, instead believing that by studying the humanities we are completing an act implicit to the word itself: humanization. Literature and music, for example, can take the edge off of science, making the discipline more comprehensible, accessible, and perhaps most importantly, personal. The rock opera, Rent, for example, deals head on with the dramatic effect AIDS has on a group of modern-day East Village twenty- and thirty-year-olds. It is one thing to read and learn about CD4 cells and reverse transcriptase in a biology course about AIDS, but to assume that knowing the pathology of the virus gives you a complete understanding of the disease and its ramifications is myopic. If you see Rent or read the memoirs of someone who has suffered from AIDS, you learn quickly that there is a distinct illness experience endured by those affected by AIDS, which cannot be expressed in the overly rational language of science. In fact, you may find yourself profoundly moved by these accounts. Realizing and understanding that human element is just as important in dealing with AIDS as is finding a vaccine or developing the next effective drug treatment.

In a way, then, science gives us empirical answers, and the humanities a way of understanding them. Independently, each provides only a partial step to really grasping what we know and learn. To get the big picture, though, one must really examine both disciplines. Considering the synergy between the two, I believe you will soon realize that studying both provides the most satisfying and enriching educational experience. In response to Kipling: These twain shall meet, engendering a very satisfying result.

All good things must come to an end, and unfortunately, Brown is no exception. It has been a challenging (and fleeting) four years here in Providence, both in the classroom and out. I’ve especially enjoyed working for The Catalyst, and meeting so many others who want to "bridge the gap." I am still unsure where I go from here, but one thing is certain: I will not go gentle into that good night.