[Choi Dae-yeol's Taeduk] The Shackles of Russian Genetics, Science Broken by the Cold War

[Namsan Ddalggakbari] Review of the Ghost of Lysenko
Agricultural Biologist Lysenko Who Advocated Lamarckism
Focused More on Purging Opponents Than Theory Development
Even the Experiments Conducted Were Substandard

Risenko inspecting the wheat

[Asia Economy Reporter Choi Dae-yeol] If children suffer from nutritional deficiencies due to inadequate eating during childhood, their descendants may experience health problems. This is based on a study of an actual case in a region called ?verkalix in northern Sweden. Since the early 19th century, this area experienced alternating periods of famine and bountiful harvests. Interestingly, the children of those who endured famine and later moved to cities, where they had ample nutrition, had offspring who developed health issues. Neither the migrants to the city nor their children experienced nutritional deficiencies, yet health problems appeared in their grandchildren, skipping a generation from the impoverished grandparents.

Research has also proven cases where grandsons of men who were gluttons during times of abundance just before puberty tended to die young, or granddaughters of women who suffered hunger during pregnancy died early. Among genetic researchers, studies on the impact of food supply on future generations are called ?verkalix studies, named after the region. Lars Bygren of the prestigious Karolinska Institute in Stockholm attempted to publish these findings, based on extensive health data of the subjects, in the 1980s, but the paper was never actually published. It was not due to research methods or statistics, but because the conclusion itself was dismissed as "impossible."

According to "traditional" genetics, which has solidified its influence mainly in the West since the modern era, acquired traits?i.e., characteristics influenced by external factors after birth?are not inherited. When explaining why giraffes have long necks through evolution, the logic of acquired traits suggests that giraffes stretched their necks to reach higher food, and over generations, the necks gradually lengthened. However, this idea was overshadowed by Charles Darwin's theory of natural selection.

The accepted theory is that giraffes originally had short necks, but some individuals had mutations resulting in longer necks for various reasons. These individuals had survival advantages, and through continuous selection, only giraffes with long necks were naturally chosen. This is the established view. However, this changed toward the end of the 20th century when epigenetics was scientifically proven to be possible. As Thomas Kuhn described, a paradigm shift occurred, but the damage left in the scientific community before this was significant. The one who caused this damage was Trofim Lysenko.

Lysenko, an agricultural biologist born in Ukraine at the end of the 19th century and active in the Soviet Union, sided with the theory of acquired traits. He was not a typical scientist who refined his theories and applied them to actual research. From a Western worldview, he was a figure who eliminated scientists opposing him and regressed Soviet genetics. His theory was poor, and he was known for purging fellow scientists, so his ideas were buried early even within the Soviet Union. However, with the rise of epigenetics recently, Lysenko has been reexamined.

Recently published in Korea, "The Ghost of Lysenko"

Author Graham Claims Lysenko’s Rashness Stemmed from Soviet Achievements and Pressure
His Infamy Still Blocks Research in Russia

Recently published in Korea, "The Ghost of Lysenko" questions whether this syndrome is appropriate. The author, Emeritus Professor Lauren Graham, has devoted herself to the history of science, especially focusing on the Soviet Union and Russia, at institutions such as MIT and Harvard. She thoroughly examined papers, official views, books, newspaper articles, and speeches of various scientists (or pseudo-scientists) who lived around Lysenko’s time. She gathered numerous fragmented stories scattered across many people and places into a narrative that even readers with little interest in biology or science would find intriguing. Although the many characters make it hard to get immersed, once the general framework is understood, the book leaves a lasting impression.

From the author’s perspective, Lysenko is hardly seen as a scientist. A clear example is his winter wheat experiment. Rejecting various experimental methods considered standard in modern science, he conducted experiments within his narrow worldview, claiming that winter wheat could be converted into spring wheat. His evidence was based on just two plants. One died from pests, and only one produced ears after vernalization (a process exposing plants to cold to promote flowering). He then claimed vernalization was effective based on this.

The author does not definitively conclude why Lysenko rushed to produce research results but speculates it was due to direct or indirect pressure from the Soviet government at the time. She states, "Under the pressure of the Soviet government pursuing rapid economic growth, Lysenko was always impatient," adding, "Because of this impatience, he preferred shortcuts." The Soviet Union was in a hurry. Compared to the West, it had to assert the superiority of its system and produce results in agriculture to solve immediate food problems. Producing usable results quickly was more important than following rigorous research procedures.

Trophim Lysenko

The problem arose when the theory of acquired traits met politics. The idea that dominant traits could be artificially changed to recessive, and vice versa, is inherently dangerous. Although Lysenko did not intend this, considering that Nazi Germany’s eugenics and racism were based on similar thinking, it cannot be dismissed as mere nonsense. This is also why early ?verkalix research was feared.

Since the 2000s, research on epigenetics has advanced, and unlike before, the possibility of acquired traits is being discussed. However, the author firmly states that Lysenko was wrong. Regardless of the research content, the methodology itself was flawed, and worse, he eliminated opposing views to maintain his perspective as "scientific fact," which was wrong. At the end of the book, the author describes Lysenko as "an incompetent scientist who, thanks to an oppressive state, could politically impose his views on others."

Even after Lysenko’s fall, the reality that the Russian scientific community still dares not study epigenetics reflects the deep trauma left by Lysenko, which continues to influence future generations as an example of acquired traits. Ultimately, the question is not whether Lysenko was right or wrong, but how science and politics should relate and whether it is proper to distinguish between the two. The answer is not easy. However, history always tells us that rushing to conclusions is always wrong.

This content was produced with the assistance of AI translation services.