S. E. Luria
Description of the Project
This project had its start from an invitation by the Sloan Foundation to write a book in their autobiography series.  At first, the
invitation seemed unattractive:  I have found most scientists' autobiographies dull and 
self-serving, even conveying a misleading impression
of unique dedication and intellectual sophistication.  In part this seems
to reflect a profound "loyalty" of scientists to their profession as well
as to the subject matter of their work.  Reflection on the reasons for
my reaction to such writings, however, produced the seed of the project
I will be engaged in.
What I would like to do in my autobiographical book is to develop
an approach to a person's life (mainly but not only my own) and a
person's biography -- the literary construct of the life in question --
not through a recounting of events, activities, or influences, but
through an analysis of the "commitments" that an individual makes at
various times in life as a guide to future actions.  By commitments I
intend those devices, some conscious, some unconscious, which the
individual adopts and internalizes in order to make activity possible
without falling into paralyzing conflicts or immobilizing contemplation
of the futility of life.
The actual commitments vary from person to person, they may wax or
wane or change subtly with time and experience.  I wish to examine
whether the commitment process, while occurring in all individuals,
may play a special role in the life of intellectuals.  I believe that
the exploration of one's own commitments (religious, social, political,
intellectual, sentimental, stylistic) and of the interactions among various commitments represents a major part of the "inner life" of
the individual, the more so the more refined the insights.
In existential terms, the set of commitments represents the means
an individual employs in struggling against the absurdity of conscious
but purposeless life.  In that sense it may be said that the set of
commitments constitutes the inner structure of the individual: in
other words, the self.
In the above terms, particularly in the light of my own life's
adventure, I would attempt to explore, for example, the roots of
scientific activity in a generally unscientific society.  I also would
contrast the scientific commitment -- its strength and weakness -- with
other commitments, for example, to literature, poetry, and the arts, and
to examine the elements of conflict that underlie these different
activities within the life of a single person.
My aim is not "candor" since I believe no such thing can exist, a
thesis I hope to illustrate.  Rather, I propose a pragmatic exploration
into the underpinning of a personality, searching less for starry moments
than for meaningful anecdotes and revealing tensions.  Thus, the
emotional relation with a master or teacher may be more meaningfully
revealed by the recall of a cutting remark or a minor slight than by an
adoring, guilt-filled portrait such as scientists often paint of each
other.  People don't forget; they sublimate the memory of interpersonal
experiences into their own set of commitments.
It is my hope that an autobiography presenting an individual with
a rather tortured personality, different from the serene image that
autobiographies of scientists usually convey, may be interesting. It
is not my purpose to debunk the pretenses of some scientists, but rather
to explore the relation between personality and scientific activity;
which commitments are compatible, which mutually exclusive, and which
are sources of conflicts.  In recent history, only J. D. Watson's The
Double Helix revealed the humane interplay between science and personality,
but Watson's book was only a fragment of autobiography. My own history,
of a biologist trained as a physician with a minor but critically
important encounter with physics; with a history of flirtation with arts,
abandonment of religion, radical involvement in politics, and deep
emotional crises should provide a reasonably interesting material with which
to develop the key theme, that of the struggle to create a self by
adopting specific commitments, which become guidelines and loyalties.
A particularly interesting aspect should be the relation of the
commitment to science to other commitments such as wealth, success, and
friendship.  Most important may be an exploration of commitment to
rationality, its coexistence with its opposite as in art, the mechanism
of compartmentalization, and the divergent loyalties thus engendered.
I hope to illustrate how certain commitments, including those to science
and art, may inspire a strong loyalty because their objects appear to
be part of the intellectual enterprise of mankind, which may therefore
have some intrinsic significance.  Essentially I plan to write an
existentialist book in line with my own philosophy of life.  It will,
however, be an autobiography, not a philosophical disquisition.
May 1981