Life, death and active matter

“The force that drives the flower drives my green age”

At the dawn of modern chemistry, in the 18th century, the prevailing view was that there was something special about living tissue compared to inert matter.  In conventional accounts of the development of chemistry, this view – known as “vitalism” – is widely believed to have been definitively killed by Wöhler’s synthesis of urea from inorganic starting materials in 1828, opening the way to a purely mechanical concept of biology, full of pumps and levers.

And yet, there is something special about a swimming bacteria, a crawling amoeba, a growing plant, a muscle, a heart, a brain.  We know now that what’s special about these forms of living matter isn’t some occult life-force; it’s a continuous input of free energy.  These systems are driven systems, sustained far from equilibrium by this constant free energy input.  In soft matter physics, we call this kind of matter active matter.  This encompasses not just biological tissues, but increasingly, synthetic analogues.

Active matter is characterised by the free energy input being, in some sense, internal, rather than external.  The fluid in a stirred tank or a heated pan is not at equilibrium, and this continuous free energy input can create considerable structure – for example convection cells, shear banding, or indeed, on a large scale, the wind patterns in a tropical storm.  Yet we don’t refer to these systems as active matter.  In a muscle, or the active gel of an amoeba’s cytoplasm, the free energy is being converted internally.  Active matter is characterised by a hierarchical structure, and the free energy is deployed at the scale of the sub-units of the structure.

It’s important to stress that what we’re talking about here is free energy – that fraction of total energy that can be converted into useful work, given the requirement of the second law of thermodynamics that the total entropy of the universe can never decrease.  Active systems typically operate at constant temperature, so the total energy that enters must be balanced by the energy that leaves.  The inputs – in the form of light and chemicals in a high free energy state – have a lower entropy than the heat and waste products that leave the system.  

Active matter exports entropy, and this allows it to generate order.  This is what makes all the marvellous complexity and order of life consistent with the second law of thermodynamics.

We can see how this works at the level of the whole earth.  The earth is constantly receiving energy from the sun, in the form of the high energy photons characteristic of a white-hot object with a temperature of about 6000 K.  But, given that the earth is not getting (much [1]) hotter, it must be re-radiating the same amount of energy into outer space. Since the earth is much cooler than the sun, this radiation is in the form of many low energy photons, in the infra-red, which carry away much more entropy than is brought by the fewer, higher energy photons arriving in the sun.  The earth exports entropy, and this allows it to generate order.

As in the macrocosm, so in the microcosm.  Photosynthesising bacteria – cyanobacteria – and the chloroplasts in plants harvest high energy photons from the sun, using their free energy to split water molecules. The resulting hydrogen ions are pumped across membranes, and the free energy thus stored is used to synthesise the universal biological free energy vector ATP.  Almost [2] all other organisms, directly or indirectly, exploit the free energy that cyanobacteria and plants have captured from the sun.

What do biological systems do with this constant input of free energy?  It allows them to export entropy, and thus create a little oasis of order amidst the increasing disorder of the universe as a whole.  We can roughly divide their entropy-defying activities into three categories:

  1. Construction, Assembly and Growth.  The molecular components of life – proteins, lipids, nucleic acids and polysaccharides – generally have a higher free energy than their building blocks.  So making the molecules of life needs to take place through the coupling of “uphill” reactions, that need an input of free energy, with the “downhill”, free energy releasing, reaction of ATP hydrolysis.  Then these molecular components need to be assembled to produce the functional structures of cell biology.  This usually involves the shepherding of the molecules to the right places, so that the self-assembly mechanisms of local free energy minimisation can produce functional structures.
  2. Motility.  Only in the smallest and simplest cells is diffusion sufficient to move molecules to where they are needed, so mechanisms for active transport are a precondition for the evolution of size and complexity. At the level of whole cells, many bacteria can swim towards food sources and away from toxic chemicals. In multicellular organisms like ourselves cell motility is involved in the creation and repair of tissues, while molecular scale motors permit the muscular contractions that underlie wriggling, walking, running and swimming in animals of all sorts.
  3. Information processing.  The human brain accounts for a disproportionate amount of the energy we use; there’s a deep relationship between information processing and entropy, which means that computation necessarily uses free energy.  But an organism doesn’t need a nervous system to do information processing; the basic unit of biological computing is the molecule.  Many bacteria are able to sense their environment and respond accordingly, and these kinds of capabilities underly the much greater complexity of cell-signalling in multi-cellular organisms.

Active matter, then, incorporates molecular scale components that use free energy – usually in the form of chemical fuels like ATP – to accomplish these goals.  What are the physical principles that underlie how they work?

Biological active matter is soft matter, in the sense that it operates in an environment dominated by Brownian motion, and interaction energies comparable to thermal energy.  Molecules are moving around by diffusion, weak interactions bring components together, and thermal energy breaks them apart.  

There’s an important difference between active matter and soft matter at equilibrium, though.  At equilibrium, every possible interaction can happen in reverse, with the same probability.  This “principle of detailed balance” is broken in active matter.  In biological systems, the origin of broken detailed balance arises because the concentration of the free energy vector ATP is clamped at a high, and out of equilibrium, value.  It’s the resulting directionality of time which underlies the apparently purposeful nature of what active matter enables.  It permits the construction of complex functional structures, and, by in effect rectifying Brownian motion, allows directional motion.

These are molecular machines – devices that convert chemical free energy into useful work – but they are machines that don’t depend on mechanism as we understand it macroscopically.  It’s not Newton’s laws, (or, indeed, the Schrödinger equation), that governs the behaviour of these “soft machines”.  Inertia is essentially negligible, there’s constant agitation from Brownian motion, and weak forces leading to components constantly sticking and unsticking to each other.

In biology, we see these principles at work in the molecular motors that make our muscles work, and in the active gels that allow amoeba to propel themselves by oozing along surfaces.  We’re now starting to see synthetic examples, too, in the form of self-propelled colloid particles and synthetic molecular motors made using supramolecular chemistry. 

Understanding the principles of active matter gives us a new insight into what makes living matter different.  There is a difference between the matter of life and death, but we don’t need any occult vital forces to explain it.  Living matter is active matter – it uses a constant supply of free energy, it constantly exports entropy, and it creates its own order.  Without a constant flux of free energy, the second law of thermodynamics drives everything to equilibrium, and equilibrium is death.

[1] The fact that the atmosphere is less transparent in to outgoing low energy photons than to incoming high energy photons means that at steady state the earth is warmer than it would be if it were a pure “black body” – this is the greenhouse effect.  As currently the concentration of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere is currently increasing, largely as a result of human action, the steady state temperature of the earth is increasing.

[2] A few ecosystems – notably those around deep-sea hydrothermal vents – rely on chemical sources of energy rather than the sun.

Even more debate on transhumanism

Following on from my short e-book “Against Transhumanism: the delusion of technological transcendence” (available free for download: Against Transhumanism, v1.0, PDF 650 kB), I have a long interview on the Singularity Weblog available as a podcast or video – “Richard Jones on Against Transhumanism”.

To quote my interviewer, Nikola Danaylov, “During our 75 min discussion with Prof. Richard Jones we cover a variety of interesting topics such as: his general work in nanotechnology, his book and blog on the topic; whether technological progress is accelerating or not; transhumanism, Ray Kurzweil and technological determinism; physics, Platonism and Frank J. Tipler‘s claim that “the singularity is inevitable”; the strange ideological routes of transhumanism; Eric Drexler’s vision of nanotechnology as reducing the material world to software; the over-representation of physicists on both sides of the transhumanism and AI debate; mind uploading and the importance of molecules as the most fundamental units of biological processing; Aubrey de Grey‘s quest for indefinite life extension; the importance of ethics and politics…”

For an earlier round-up of other reactions to the e-book, see here.

Going soft on nano

An interview between me and the writer Eddie Germino has just been published on the transhumanist website/magazine H+, with the title Going Soft on Nanotech. In it I discuss what I mean by “Soft Machines”, and make some comments on the feasibility of some of Drexler’s proposals for radical nanotechnology. I also make some more general points about how I see the future of technology, and say something about the Transhumanist and Singularitarian movements.

Any visitors from H+ magazine wishing to find out more about my thoughts on K. Eric Drexler’s views on nanotechnology will find this recent post – Nanotechnology, K. Eric Drexler and me – a good starting point.

On Descartes and nanobots

A couple of weeks ago I was interviewed for the Robots podcast special on on 50 years of robotics, and predictions for the next half century. My brief was nanorobots, and you can hear the podcast here. My pitch was that on the nanoscale we’d be looking to nature for inspiration, exploiting design principles such as self-assembly and macromolecular shape change; as a particularly exciting current development I singled out progress in DNA nanotechnology, and in particular the possibility of using this to do molecular logic. As it happens, last week’s edition of Nature included two very interesting papers reporting further developments in this area – Molecular robots guided by prescriptive landscapes from Erik Winfree’s group in Caltech, and A proximity-based programmable DNA nanoscale assembly line from Ned Seeman’s group in NYU.

The context and significance of these advances is well described in a News and Views article (full text); the references to nanorobots and nanoscale assembly lines have led to considerable publicity. James Hayton (who reads the Daily Mail so the rest of us don’t have to), in his 10e-9 blog comments very pertinently on the misleading use of classical nanobot imagery to illustrate this story. The Daily Mail isn’t the only culprit here – even the venerable Nature uses a still from the film Fantastic Voyage to illustrate their story, with the caption “although such machines are still a fantasy, molecular ‘robots’ made of DNA are under development.”

What’s wrong with these illustrations is that they are graphic representations of bad metaphors. DNA nanotechnology falls squarely in the soft nanotechnology paradigm – it depends on the weak interactions by which complementary sequences are recognised to enable the self-assembly of structures whose design is coded within the component molecules themselves, and macromolecular shape changes under the influence of Brownian motion to effect motion. Soft machines aren’t mechanical engineering shrunk, as I’ve written about at length on this blog and elsewhere.

But there’s another, more subtle point here. Our classical conception of a robot is something with sensors feeding information into a central computer, which responds to this sensory input by a computation, which is then effected by the communication of commands to the actuators that drive the robot’s actions. This separation of the “thinking” function of the robot from its sensing and action is something that we find very appealing; we are irresistibly drawn to the analogy with the way we have come to think about human beings since Descartes – as machines animated by an intelligence largely separate from our bodies.

What is striking about these rudimentary DNA robots is that what “intelligence” they possess – their capacity to sense the environment and process this information to determine which of a limited set of outcomes will be effected – arises from the molecules from which the robot is made and their interaction with a (specially designed) environment. There’s no sense in which the robot’s “program” is loaded into it; the program is implicit in the construction of the robot and its interaction with the environment. In this robot, “thought” and “action” are inseparable; the same molecules both store and process information and drive its motion.

In this, these proto-robots operate on similar general principles to bacteria, whose considerable information processing power arises from the interaction of many individual molecules with each other and with their physical environment (as beautifully described in Dennis Bray’s book Wetware: a computer in every living cell). Is this the only way to build a nanobot with the capacity to process and act on information about the environment? I’m not sure, but for the moment it seems to be the direction we’re moving in.

In Richmond, VA

I’m making a brief visit to Virginia to talk to high school students and others about my book, Soft Machines. It’s in connection with a visiting author program for the Chesterfield County school system, initiated by Prof Krishan Aggarwal, from Virginia State University; each year high school students in the County schools get to read a science book in class and the author comes to discuss it with them. So far I’ve talked to students in Monacan High School and L.C. Bird High School, as well as spending an afternoon with the staff of Richmond’s MathScience Innovation Centre and local science teachers, who have been developing sets of lesson materials about nanotechnology for high school students, and have clearly been thinking hard about how to convey some of the developing concepts of nanotechnology to their students. I’m just about to go back to L.C. Bird High School for a public lecture and panel discussion. I’ve been hugely impressed so far by the thought that’s gone into the questions being put to me; it’s been a pleasure to interact with such an engaged group of students. My thanks to Krishan and to Dr Jeremy Lloyd, from the Chesterfield County schools, for setting this up and looking after me.

Discussion meeting on soft nanotechnology

A forthcoming conference in London will be discussing the “soft” approach to nanotechnology. The meeting – Faraday Discussion 143 – Soft Nanotechnology – is organised by the UK’s Royal Society of Chemistry, and follows a rather unusual format. Selected participants in the meeting submit a full research paper, which is peer reviewed and circulated, before the meeting, to all the attendees. The meeting itself concentrates on a detailed discussion of the papers, rather than a simple presentation of the results.

The organisers describe the scope of the meeting in these terms: “Soft nanotechnology aims to build on our knowledge of biological systems, which are the ultimate example of ‘soft machines’, by:

  • Understanding, predicting and utilising the rules of self-assembly from the molecular to the micron-scale
  • Learning how to deal with the supply of energy into dynamically self-assembling systems
  • Implementing self-assembly and ‘wet chemistry’ into electronic devices, actuators, fluidics, and other ‘soft machines’.
  • An impressive list of invited international speakers includes Takuzo Aida, from the University of Tokyo, Chris Dobson, from the University of Cambridge, Ben Feringa, from the University of Groningen, Olli Ikkala, from Helsinki University of Technology, Chengde Mao, from Purdue University, Stefan Matile, from the University of Geneva, and Klaus J Schulten, from the University of Illinois. The conference will be wrapped up by Harvard’s George Whitesides, and I’m hugely honoured to have been asked to give the opening talk.

    The meeting is not until this time next year, in London, but if you want to present a paper you need to get an abstract in by the 11 July. Faraday Discussions in the past have featured lively discussions, to say the least; it’s a format that’s tailor made for allowing controversies to be aired and strong positions to be taken.

    Lichfield lecture

    Tomorrow I’m giving a public lecture in the Garrick Theatre, Lichfield, under the auspices of the Lichfield Science and Engineering Society. Non-members are welcome.

    Lichfield is a small city in the English Midlands; it’s of ancient foundation, but in recent times has been eclipsed by the neighbouring industrial centres of Birmingham and the Black Country. Nonetheless, it should occupy at least an interesting footnote in the history of science and technology. It was the home of Erasmus Darwin, who deserves to be known for more than simply being the grandfather of Charles Darwin. Erasmus Darwin (1731 – 1802) was a doctor and polymath; his own original contributions to science were relatively slight, though his views on evolution prefigured in some ways those of his grandson. But he was at the centre of a remarkable circle of scientists, technologists and industrialists, the Lunar Society, who between them laid many of the foundations of modernity. Their members included the chemist, Joseph Priestly, discoverer of oxygen, Josiah Wedgwood, whose ceramics factory developed many technical innovations, and Matthew Boulton and James Watt, who between them take much of the credit for the widespread industrial use of efficient steam power. In attitude they were non-conformist in religion – Priestley was a devout Unitarian, who combined thoroughgoing materialism with a conviction that the millennium was not far away, but Erasmus Darwin verged close to atheism. Their politics was radical – dangerously so, at a time when the example of the American and French revolutions led to a climate of fear and repression in England.

    The painting depicts another travelling science lecturer demonstrating the new technology of the air pump to a society audience in the English Midlands. The painter, Joseph Wright, from Derby, was a friend of Erasmus Darwin, and the full moon visible through the window is probably a reference to the Lunar Society, many of whose members Wright was well acquainted with. Aside from its technical brilliance the painting captures both the conviction of some in those enlightenment times that public experimental demonstrations would provide a basis of agreed truth at a time of political and religious turbulence, and, perhaps, a suggestion that this knowledge was after all not without moral ambiguity.

    An experiment on a bird in an air pump
    An experiment on a bird in an air pump, by Joseph Wright, 1768. The original is in the National Gallery.