Goodbye, Professor Gould

Just before he passed away, Agassiz Professor of Zoology and Professor of Geology Stephen Jay Gould said that he needed 20 more years to complete his work. “I’d take 30 if anybody would give it to me, but I need 20,” he said. Uncharacteristically, Gould was mistaken; his accomplishments in the 60 years that he lived far exceeded what the rest of us could do in twice that time. Had he the additional 20 years of life that he desired, Gould might have surpassed the other evolutionary biologist to whom he is often compared—Charles Darwin.

Gould’s greatest contribution to evolutionary science was his theory of “punctuated equilibrium,” but his brilliance was amplified by his contributions to the public discourse. He was extremely prolific, almost single-handedly saving the scientific essay, a dying breed of writing, in short articles where he combined apparently unrelated ideas into a cohesive scientific position. From his 300 consecutive monthly columns in Natural History magazine to his books on various aspects of evolutionary history, Gould remained committed throughout his career to translating science into terms the public could understand—a skill few contemporary academics possess.

Some criticized Gould for neglecting his scholarly work at the expense of his shorter essays. Their voices should be silenced by the publication of his 1,433-page book The Structure of Evolutionary Theory, which synthesizes Gould’s thought with Darwin’s classic theory of evolution. Gould’s ideas were often controversial among his colleagues, but the passion with which he defended his convictions was widely admired.

On campus, Gould’s commitment to introducing students to science was clear. He injected science into non-science courses, like Religion 1045: “Thinking About Thinking,” which he co-taught. Undergraduates enjoyed Gould’s own science courses; Science B-16: “History of Life” has long been among the most popular College courses. His valiant efforts to finish teaching that class this semester in spite of his cancer treatment exemplified his commitment to his students. Teaching Fellow John Mathew witnessed Gould’s painful struggles to prepare lectures—and yet Gould remained determined to make up every lecture he missed. Gould’s special dedication to undergraduates demonstrated that, though he was famous, he remained accessible and devoted to undergraduates.

Gould was a fighter; he was proud to be the only person to be cured of abdominal mesothelioma, a condition doctors told him was terminal. Perhaps it is Gould’s own essay, “The Median Isn’t the Message,” which best conveys his gallant ability to combat cancer by adopting a positive, therapeutic attitude.

That attitude gave him the vivacity to explore the history of life during his 60 years, and the courage to fight through his last 20. For all that he brought, and all that he will take with him, Stephen Jay Gould will be greatly missed.