Three VAAS Fellows have recently passed away, leaving behind legacies of service to their professional fields, their communities, and the world.
Please take a moment to read their stories below and join us in honoring their lives.
Richard Lewontin (1929-2021)
Richard Lewontin at Harvard University - photo provided from the Ernst Mayr Library and also from the archives of the Museum of Comparative Zoology at Harvard University
The American scientist Richard Lewontin, who has died aged 92, was intimately involved in some of the most important discoveries, and feuds, of evolutionary biology during the decades in which it passed from knowing that genes existed to specifying them in precise molecular terms.
His greatest contribution came in the 1960s, when he demonstrated the existence of very widespread genetic variation within species as well as between them. This research, with John Hubby at the University of Chicago, which had started with grinding up fruit flies, was extended to human beings in a paper published in 1972 that revealed the emptiness of traditional biological concepts of race.
Lewontin and those who followed his trail showed there is far more genetic diversity within “races” than between them. His work was not done directly on DNA, but by the analysis of the proteins that genes code for, establishing the combination of the four chemical bases of DNA instructing a cell to create a protein – before a single gene had been sequenced. This relatively simple experiment had far-reaching intellectual consequences, and nothing discovered subsequently has upset Lewontin’s conclusions.
However, if Lewontin’s work on genes considered as chemical sequences was uncontroversial, his views on genes as a metaphor – or an explanatory principle – became increasingly embattled with the rise of sociobiology, a discipline promoted by people working in the same building to which he had moved in 1973, the Museum of Comparative Zoology at Harvard. The two groups became embroiled in one of the longest and most bitter academic feuds of the recent past.
Lewontin, a ferocious polemicist from Marxist principles, had always been on the left. In 1971 he had resigned from the National Academy of Sciences, to which he had been elected three years earlier, in protest against its cooperation with the US Defense Department in the Vietnam war.
Lewontin fought against the world view championed by Richard Dawkins, which made genes or DNA the most important actors
Marxism gave him a perspective outside science, and a low view of his opponents’ motives. “As academics we are supported by society in a pretty nice way,” he once said. “To make a claim on the resources of society you have to do more than say ‘I want to satisfy my intellectual curiosity’ – that’s just a kind of masturbation that is not justified as far as I’m concerned. So you have to do politics. [And in politics,] science provides you with legitimacy. When you lose your legitimacy as a scientist, you lose your legitimacy as a commentator.”
He believed ruthless argument was central to the process of science, and arranged his lab at Harvard with individual offices set around a vast communal table so his students were forced to interact. He described his PhD supervisor, the great Ukrainian-American geneticist Theodosius Dobzhansky, as an “opponent” rather than a “mentor”, but added that both parties had enjoyed three years of arguing about everything.
This was not the case in the sociobiology wars. In the early 70s, a number of scientists began to explore the ways in which evolution may have shaped the instincts and the minds of animals, as well as their bodies. In fact, Lewontin himself had been the first to suggest the marriage of game theory with evolutionary theory that was central to the new field, back in 1961. But when his colleague at the museum, the entomologist EO Wilson, published Sociobiology, a huge book attempting to frame the understanding of humanity on the basis of evolutionary biology, Lewontin reacted with passionate scorn.
He thought it was bad science, which vastly underestimated the difficulty of tracing the links between DNA and behaviour. He also believed it was a cloak for rotten politics, and attacked it in savage personal terms: “Wilson’s book illustrates … the personal and social class prejudice of the researcher. Wilson joins the long parade of biological determinists whose work has served to buttress the institutions of their society by exonerating them from responsibility for social problems.
This was unfair, and for decades remained unforgiven.
For many years Lewontin fought against the worldview championed by Richard Dawkins, which made either genes or DNA the most important actors in it. He and his colleague Stephen Jay Gould launched an influential attack on the idea that everything that has evolved must have been singled out by natural selection. With the British biologist Steven Rose and with his friend Leo Kamin he wrote a book attacking sociobiology, Not in Our Genes (1984). His essays in the New York Review of Books eviscerated the project of evolutionary psychology.
Lewontin’s brutal polemic manner was counterbalanced by remarkable kindness and honesty in his professional life. He refused to take any undeserved credit for his students’ work and they repaid him with love and admiration, even when they disagreed with him.
Born in New York, Richard was the son of Lilian and Max Lewontin, a cloth broker. At Forest Hills high school he met Mary Jane Christianson; and their long, devoted marriage, from the age of 18, ended only with her death, three days before his.
He gained a biology degree (1951) at Harvard, a master’s in mathematical statistics and then his PhD (1954) at Columbia University. Before going to Chicago he held faculty posts at North Carolina State University and the University of Rochester, New York state. Once back at Harvard, he remained professor of zoology and biology until 1998.
He is survived by his sons, Timothy, David, Stephen and James, seven grandchildren and a great-grandchild.
-Andrew Brown
Steven Rose writes: Hilary Rose and I first met Dick Lewontin through the campaign against the Vietnam war. In 1969 we had been in Hanoi with Dick Levins, Lewontin’s longtime collaborator and friend, so when Lewontin came on sabbatical to England, it was natural he should make contact. Levins and Lewontin were members of Science for Vietnam, a group of students and academics that soon morphed into Science for the People, with its much broader critique of science under capitalism, while we had been among the founders of its close cousin, the British Society for Social Responsibility in Science. When Penguin proposed to Lewontin that he write a critique of sociobiology and genetic reductionism he approached me as co-author, along with the psychologist Leo Kamin.
The result was Not in Our Genes, planned and written in sessions in our Yorkshire farmhouse, Dick’s lab in Cambridge and his and Mary Jane’s cabin in upstate Vermont. His lab was a ferment of scientific and political activism, two floors up from Gould in the basement with the sociobiologist EO Wilson’s lab sandwiched between them. Wilson was said to avoid the elevator whenever Lewontin or Gould was in it – hence the title of one of Dick’s New York Review of Books essays: The Corpse in the Elevator.
Jane Pitkin Curtis (1918-2022)
Jane Pitkin Curtis and her husband, Will Curtis
Leaving the world a better place was one of Jane Pitkin Curtis’ constants in her 103 years of life. An artist, farmer, world traveler, book author and proud political activist, Curtis filled her days with meaningful experiences and interactions with others with whom she crossed paths. “She never slowed down until it was time to go,” Deborah Luquer, Curtis’ friend, said.
Curtis was an informed and involved citizen throughout her life, taking part in political protests and marches, including — until last October — attending Black Lives Matter vigils in Woodstock. Her knowledge about the world was fueled by her intense interest in people, their stories, thoughts and dreams.
“She had eagle eyes,” Luquer, an 82-year-old Hartland resident, said. “What made her different was her curiosity in others.” Curtis became hard of hearing as she got older, but she would always ask to hear a story told again because she had always been such an engaged listener, Luquer said. “She was full of character,” Luquer said. “She had a humility that isn’t around so much today.”
Even on her deathbed earlier this year, Curtis kept up with visitors, planned her own funeral, wrote her obituary ahead of time and remarked, “Who knew dying could be so much fun?” Curtis was born in Boston in 1918 and grew up in Massachusetts until she was a young adult.
While attending Smith College, where Curtis majored in art history and European history, she became a passionate artist and left behind a collection of beautiful watercolor paintings. In 1953, she moved with her husband, Will Curtis, to West Hartford where they became dairy farmers together.
Four years later, they moved to Hartland where they operated a dairy farm called Sugar Brook Farm. The Curtises also bought and ran the Yankee Bookshop in downtown Woodstock for 10 years in the 1960s, which led to them publishing a two-volume book series, The Nature of Things.
Inspiration for the books came from a radio show where Will advertised the bookshop on Vermont Public Radio; he shared short and amusing facts from nature, such as how many eyes a bee has or how high a smallmouth bass can jump out of the water. They saved the broadcasts, which Curtis later collected and made into a book.
In 1997, they moved from Hartland to Woodstock, where Curtis lived for the rest of her life, even after her husband’s death in 2011. The couple wrote and published several other books together on topics such as nature, birds and Calvin Coolidge, and they traveled across the world to buy new books and experience new things.
“They had very itchy feet,” Curtis’ daughter, Kate Donahue, a 77-year-old Hartland resident, said. At the airport, her mother “(would look) out at the planes thinking about where she would go next,” Donahue added.
Anthropology was another of Curtis’ interests, and it paired well with her love for travel. Curtis “set the path for me,” said Donahue, who works as an anthropology professor at Plymouth (N.H.) State University.
In addition to her husband, Curtis also took trips with her friend Ann Debevoise, a 96-year-old Woodstock resident. They traveled together to Italy and England, exploring the way things work in different places of the world. “We were there to get a feeling for the country and what people were doing and thinking,” Debevoise said.
Understanding the functioning of society and different communities was something Curtis achieved in part by being involved in her own. “She was such a dedicated person and a good citizen,” Debevoise said.
Curtis was involved in a number of local clubs and organizations, including the Green Mountain Club, the Hartland Planning Commission, the New Century Club in Woodstock and the Connecticut River Conservancy.
She loved reading political literature to educate herself and took ‘Learning Lab’ classes in Woodstock to explore historical topics and discuss current events.
Debevoise and Curtis attended the New Century Club together — a women’s group that met to discuss and write essays on history and politics — for many years. Debevoise was the club’s president from 2018 to 2020. The group members were given prompts, such as artist Henri Matisse’s quote “creativity takes courage,” and asked to reflect in writing. The group’s monthly meetings were informative and interesting, Debevoise said. “(Jane) and I shared ideas on (education) very strongly,” she added. When they were together, the friends chatted about the importance of the subjects that young children learn in their first years of school, such as history and geography.
Though she had some strong opinions, Curtis maintained an open-mindedness that allowed her to connect with people from all different walks of life, even if they opposed some of her viewpoints. “She was always kind to fools,” Luquer remembered. For someone of her generation, Curtis was a modern patriot, Luquer said. “She was a great patriot,” Luquer said. “She listened, and then she quietly went ahead and did what she thought was right.”
Throughout her life, Curtis embraced her citizenship as a political activist, participating in marches against the use of nuclear arms in Washington, D.C., protesting the Vietnam War in Montpelier, and, more recently, protesting the separation of immigrant families at the U.S.-Mexico border and attending the 2017 Women’s March in Montpelier.
In 2016, in her late 90s, Curtis helped form a community group which she called “Women for a Change,” which she led for a few years, encouraging voters to use their voice and be active political participants of their country.
She adopted a big tent philosophy and made sure to include a wide spectrum of political perspectives at Women for a Change meetings. She worried about the state of the country and its government. Still, she knew that in order to achieve a properly functioning democracy, appreciating and welcoming the diversity of thought in our society is a crucial step.
Through Women For a Change, around 25 members frequently “got together to ask what we could do for our country,” Luquer said. The group hosted speakers like Vermont Secretary of State Jim Condos, held mock elections and advocated for civics to be included and emphasized the curriculum at local schools.
She was “a mover, a shaker and an activist,” Donahue, her daughter, said. Her energy, self-sufficiency, sense of honor, integrity and intrepidness were a few elements of Curtis’ personality. “She felt guilty about being privileged,” Bill Donahue, Curtis’ son-in-law, said.
Curtis’ activism gave her a chance to realize her purpose, enact change and inspire others to do the same. “One of her last worries was: ‘Why am I so lucky?’ ” Luquer said.
In her hometown, she would walk the streets of Woodstock on her own, sometimes on walks for her health, sometimes as an activist. To honor her memory, funeral guests walked through the village of Woodstock as Curtis had done herself for so many years.
Sister Janice Ryan (1936-2022)
Sister Janice Ryan - photograph from the Sisters of Mercy
Sister Janice Ryan, a leading Vermont advocate for social justice, died Wednesday, according to state and federal officials. She was 86.
A member of the Sisters of Mercy, Ryan served as president of Trinity College of Vermont, deputy commissioner of the state Department of Corrections and education adviser to the late U.S. Sen. Jim Jeffords.
State Rep. Tiff Bluemle, D-Burlington, announced Ryan’s death Wednesday on the floor of the Vermont House.
“Her contributions to Vermont and, indeed, to this body are almost impossible to catalog,” Bluemle said. “But I’d suggest that those of us who knew her will remember most the example she set — of how to be both candid and kind, how to listen deeply and advocate fiercely, to balance idealism and practicality.”
Following her remarks, Bluemle called for a moment of silence to remember and honor Ryan’s contributions to the state.
In a written statement, U.S. Sen. Patrick Leahy, D-Vt., called Ryan “a force of nature” and “a human dynamo.”
“She made it her job to make policymakers uncomfortable as her way to achieving real change to help those who struggle,” Leahy said. “And indeed she made a real difference. The world is a better place for her selfless advocacy for others.”
The senator said he and his wife, Marcelle, visited Ryan last weekend, knowing the end was near.
“We were so moved to be with her one last time, as we said a prayer and to let her know what she means to us and to countless others,” Leahy said in the statement. “With all Vermonters, we sorely feel this painful loss.”
Born in Fairfield in 1936, Ryan joined the Sisters of Mercy while finishing high school in Burlington. She taught at the now-defunct Trinity College and, for 17 years, served as its president.
After the college closed, in 2001, Ryan became a cofounder of Mercy Connections, a Burlington-based nonprofit focused on empowering people through education, mentoring and entrepreneurial training. She helped the organization launch the Vermont Women’s Mentoring Program to support those transitioning from prison to the community.
“Sister Janice was deeply committed to the mission and work of our organization, which she championed throughout her life,” said Mercy Connections executive director Lisa Falcone.
Ryan was a tireless advocate for social justice, special education and criminal justice reform and received several awards for her work.
In 2006, she was recognized as one of four lifelong Vermonters who celebrated 50 years as a Sister of Mercy. In 2017, the Vermont Community Foundation honored her with a lifetime achievement award for community service.
“So many lives over so many years have been changed by Sister Janice during her long career,” Dan Smith, president and CEO of the Vermont Community Foundation, said at the time.
In 2018, Ryan received an award for excellence from the New England Board of Higher Education at the University of Vermont, according to Vermont Catholic.
“Life has given me many rich opportunities all of which were interesting and filled with challenges,” she said at the time.
In Washington, D.C., Ryan served as director of justice education and interfaith relations for the Justice Project. She also worked for Jeffords, the late senator from Vermont, and was project director of the Catholic Campaign to Ban Landmines.
State Rep. Heidi Scheuermann, R-Stowe, said she got to know Ryan when the two worked for Jeffords. She called Ryan “a fierce advocate for those less fortunate and marginalized.”
“When examining her life and her service to this state, I truly believe that Janice Ryan had as great an impact on this state as the most celebrated we know,” Scheuermann said.
Ryan fought for the passage of the Vermont Special Education Law and pushed for Congress to use it as a national model. She was also involved with the Innocence Protection Act, a first attempt in federal legislation to collect DNA to ensure that innocent people are not put to death.
In 2003, Ryan became the deputy commissioner of corrections in Vermont and called it “a life-changing event,” according to Vermont Catholic. She continued working with prisoners after she retired.
“It is a sad day,” Smith, of the Vermont Community Foundation, said in an emailed statement Wednesday. “Sister Janice was a remarkable person who touched countless lives across Vermont. She will be greatly missed.”