200 American Scientist, Volume 93
© Lynn Margulis
E
rnst Mayr, Harvard University professor
emeritus and biologist extraordinaire, died
peacefully in Bedford, Massachusetts, on
February 3. He was 100 years old and had been
associated with the biology department at Har-
vard since he joined its faculty in 1953. An era in
evolutionary thought, called variously the New
Synthesis, neo-Darwinism or the Modern Synthe-
sis, came to an end with his passing.
The death of the last of the great evolutionary
biologists of the 20th century concluded an intel-
lectual movement in the study of evolution—a
point of view whose most striking aspect was the
extent to which all of the evolutionary history of
life on Earth was perceived as a subdiscipline
of biology. Whereas Thomas Kuhn, author of
The Structure of Scientific Revolutions,
might have
called it a paradigm, Ludwik Fleck (author of
Genesis and Development of a Scientific Fact
, 1935)
would have recognized the correlated demise of
neo-Darwinism and the death of Professor Mayr
as a paradigm lost.
An accomplished naturalist, Ernst Mayr began
his work in 1923 at the age of 19. The last of his
25 books, a collection of essays called What Makes
Biology Unique
? Considerations on the Autonomy of a
Scientific Discipline
, was published by Cambridge
University Press in the summer of 2004, one
month after his 100th birthday! This fact attests to
Mayr’s intellectual talents and unwavering inter-
est in science, its history and philosophy.
And last May, shortly before Mayr’s centenary
birthday in July, an open celebration of his work
and life was held in the auditorium of the Min-
eralogical and Geological Museum at Harvard.
The place was crowded with admirers, specta-
tors, students from universities and colleges from
all over the Boston area and beyond. Several fa-
mous evolutionary biologists, colleagues, many
of whom were among his former students and
are now professional leaders, came to pay tribute.
What struck me at this well-attended, enthusiastic
gathering was that, among the marvelous lectur-
ers in an all-day session about the evolutionary
panorama of life on Earth, the most moving and
informative of the talks, in my opinion, was the
final statement by Ernst Mayr himself!
Mayr was born in Kempten, Germany (Bavar-
ia), to an educated family, many of whom were
physicians. His father, Otto Mayr, was a judge
and a bird-watching enthusiast. During his school
holidays Ernst worked at the Berlin Zoological
Museum at the invitation of Erwin Stresemann,
the best ornithologist in the country at that time.
Following his two years of study at the University
of Greifswald, oriented toward medicine as urged
by his family, he completed his doctoral program
in 16 months at the University of Berlin. Why did
he opt to study at Greifswald? Why did he go
north to a relatively unknown academic institu-
tion? Because his real interests were in the study
of natural history, especially watching birds.
Nature Not Books
Like Darwin, Mayr was always fascinated by live
animals in nature. He was particularly compelled
by the question: How do species originate? Some
three years before he died, he told me about his
delight when the University of Berlin called him
back to celebrate the 75th anniversary of receipt
of his doctorate degree. I asked him if I might
accompany him to attend the scientific program.
“Oh, you don’t want to do that,” he remarked.
“There will be no science, just endless and bor-
ing talks by administrators.”
We had been discussing modes of speciation, and
I had shown him our 10-minute film on Mixotricha
paradoxa
, an Australian termite protist, in his daugh-
ter Susanne Harrison’s kitchen in Bedford. I had ex-
plained “symbiogenesis” as a mode of speciation. “I
get it, I get it,” he said, first pensively, then excitedly
as he watched the five or more integrated microbial
symbionts that comprise a single Mixotricha protist
swim away as a single individual.
Lynn Margulis, Distinguished Professor in the Department of
Geosciences at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst and presi-
dent-elect of Sigma Xi, still works with students and colleagues on
her theory of the origin of cilia from symbiotic spirochetes. An avid
environmentalist, she investigates extensions of James E. Lovelock's
Gaia hypothesis. An extended version of this essay is in press in
Mètode, the scientific magazine of the University of Valencia in
Burjassot, Spain. Address: Department of Geosciences, Morrill
Science Center, University of Massachusetts, 611 North Pleasant
Street, Amherst, MA 01003-9297. Internet: celeste@geo.umass.edu
M
ACROSCOPE
E
RNST
M
AYR
,
B
IOLOGIST
E
XTRAORDINAIRE
Lynn Margulis
2005 May–June 201
www.americanscientist.org
© Lynn Margulis
I tried to distinguish “symbiosis” from “sym-
biogenesis” for him. “Oh, you don’t have to tell
me what ‘symbiosis’ is!” he exclaimed, a little
impatiently. “I studied symbiosis with Paul Buch-
ner in Greifswald, who was a young instructor
there” for a very short time before he moved on,
eventually to Italy. Buchner, author of the semi-
nal work Endosymbiose der Tiere mit pflanzlichen
Mikroorganismen
(1953), was the founder of mod-
ern symbiosis research.
Mayr took seriously Louis Agassiz’s admoni-
tion. He studied “Nature not Books” between
1928 and 1930 when he collected more than 3,000
birds in the South Pacific, mainly the Solomon Is-
lands and New Guinea. He learned to live off the
land. After removal of the skin and feathers in
the preparation of “study skins” and taxidermic
samples for species identification, morphological
analysis and shipment to museum collections,
nothing would be wasted: The innards went to
pot for dinner. That Ernst Mayr ate more birds of
paradise than any other modern ornithologist is
a well-known anecdote.
Mayr’s work in the field, especially with avian
diversity, led him to his most familiar contribution
to science, documented in his two dozen single-
authored or edited books and more than 600 sci-
entific publications. He framed the animal species
concept. Members of the same species can mate
and breed to produce fertile offspring. Even plants
and animals that greatly resemble each other are
not to be assigned to the same species if they are
not interfertile. On the other hand, animals that
look very different from each other (such as Great
Danes and Yorkshire terriers) if they produce fer-
tile offspring do belong to the same species.
He told me about the wood duck and the
green-headed mallards illustrated on his conser-
vation-society shower curtain—that they were
perfectly fertile, and a mating between these
birds resulted in normal numbers of healthy
chicks. He said that nevertheless he agreed that
the two very different-looking ducks must be
assigned, as they are, to two different species.
Why? Because, he insisted, even when they live
on the same pond, such as the duck pond here
in Amherst, they only mate with their own kind.
His definition of species, he insisted, is “organ-
isms are members of the same species that, in
nature,
mate to produce fertile offspring.”
He always emphasized the importance of the
environment. Speciation could almost always
be associated with geographical isolation. When
members of the same species are separated for
long times by environmental barriers (such as
newly formed volcanic mountains, islands, riv-
ers or climatic change), the barriers lead to im-
peded mating. It is these isolated populations
that tend to form new species. The importance of
geographical details in the origin and evolution
of species was always emphasized. “I don’t need
to measure the pH and see that it is lower than
six in that soil,” he would say. “When sphagnum
and cranberries grow in the bog there, we know
what the pH must be.” A proud naturalist, Mayr
was a superb writer who communicated primar-
ily by handwritten notes. He was the last of the
neo-Darwinians to revere nature, work inside her
and with her. His life always extended beyond the
computer and mathematical models.
What Evolution Is
We celebrated the publication of our books, both
brought out by Basic Books, in the summer of
2002. At his lovely retirement village, with the
help of many friends as well as family (including
Mayr’s daughters Susanne and biologist Christa
Menzel of Simsbury, Connecticut), we had a won-
derful bibliophilic party. For our book (Lynn Mar-
gulis and Dorion Sagan, Acquiring Genomes: A The-
ory of the Origins of Species),
Mayr had written the
fascinating, not uncritical, foreword. But Mayr’s
book was what we all came to celebrate. For read-
ers unfamiliar with his comprehensive opus span-
ning more than 75 years of scientific productivity
on a panoply of evolutionary themes, I recom-
mend that you begin with this one, his 24th: What
Evolution Is.
Designed for the curious, nonspecial-
ist reader, it is a fine read for those interested in
the achievements of importance in 20th-century
evolutionary biology.
Not immodestly, Mayr considered his 2002
trade book to be the single best summary of un-
contested, documented evolutionary thought.
“Evolution” refers to the results of experimental,
observational and theoretical science that sup-
port the common ancestry of all life on Earth. Yes,
of course, people are primates directly related
to other great apes such as gorillas, chimps and
bonobos. Yes, of course, humans were not made
by an all-seeing, all-knowing white-man deity.
Indeed, evidence points to the possibility that
several species of nonhumans became extinct be-
cause of our aggressive, even murderous, greedy
ancestors. These early Homo sapiens, related to us,
displayed traits that still abound!
The questions and answers, at the end of the
book especially, help any reader, even one naive
with respect to science, to understand the basic
concepts of this most important area of study.
Mayr’s reasonableness is especially pertinent to-
day in the face of ignorance, prejudice and reli-
gious fundamentalism. For those who try to deny
the validity of science that uses carefully collected
evidence from investigators worldwide, this book
is a responsible antidote.
Some three weeks before his death, I called
him at home in Bedford and asked, “Ernst, how
are you? How do you feel?” He responded cheer-
ily, “I feel fine. That is, I feel exceptionally well
given the diagnosis.” “What diagnosis?” I asked.
“Didn’t I tell you? The doctors tell me I have
cancer. It has already metastasized, but I don’t
feel sick at all.” “Oh, Ernst, I’m so sorry,” I re-
sponded. “Well, Lynn,” he said cheerfully, “I will
have to die of something.”