Another Nautilus
article has gotten me thinking about chemical complexity and the origin of
life. The article itself is not related to either topic. How Information Got Re-Invented is “the story behind the
birth of the information age”. It is a selected biography of Claude Shannon and
the influences that led him to him famous paper, “A Mathematical Theory in
Communication”. If you’re a physical chemist like me, you’ve heard of Shannon
entropy and its similarities to Boltzmann entropy.
The article does a great job tracing the work of Harry
Nyquist and Ralph Hartley, both engineers who had contributed significant
insights that led to Shannon’s breakthrough work. There are also anecdotal
stories from friends of Shannon during his time at Bell Labs. (I highly
recommend The Idea Factory by Jon
Gertner about the golden age of innovation thanks to the remarkable setup of
Bell Labs.) The article also clearly lays out the basics of information
transition theory and introduces the bit
as a measure of information content.
More importantly, the authors of the article Jimmy Soni and
Rob Goodman, do a great job uncovering the counter-intuitive definition of
quantified information. Here’s an excerpt:
“What does information really measure? It measures the
uncertainty we overcome. It measures our chances of learning something we
haven’t yet learned. Or, more specifically: when one thing carries information
about another – just as a meter reading tells us about a physical quantity, or
a book tells us about a life – the amount of information it carries reflects
the reduction in uncertainty about the object. The messages that resolve the
greatest amount of uncertainty – that are picked from the widest range of
symbols with the fairest odds – are the richest in information. But where there is perfect certainty, there
is no information: There is nothing to be said.”
The article goes on to discuss languages and code-breaking.
The English language, for example, has many redundancies – including the
letters used in the alphabet such as vowels. The authors quote an example from
Shannon: “MST PPL HV LTTL DFFCLTY N RDNG THS SNTNC.” Code-breakers exploit
these redundancies to their advantage. In fact, “every human language is highly
redundant. “From the dispassionate perspective of the information theorist, the
majority of what we say – whether out
of convention, or grammar, or habit – could just as well go unsaid.” Having
attempted to learn languages that have more or less redundancy in my adult life
gives me more appreciation and patience for people speaking in their non-native
tongue and making “grammatical errors”. Many of these aren’t errors per se, at
least in terms of communication. You can understand what they are saying – it
just doesn’t sound “right” to your native ears. But rightness in this case is
simply the current convention a native speaker uses. Languages do evolve over
time
Why the redundancy? It turns out that “every signal is
subject to noise. Every message is liable to corruption, distortion,
scrambling.” The speed at which a message can be propagated is dependent on how
the message is encoded or packaged – Shannon proved there is a “point of maximum
compactness”. So it turns out that redundancy is important for communication or
propagation. In the case of our genetic material DNA, copying isn’t perfect –
there are errors; but they are mitigated by redundancy and evolved
error-correcting helper molecules. Darwinian evolution takes advantage of such
errors. It allows for variation – I think of it as creativity in exploring
biological space.
Chemistry operates in the same way. The riddle of
origin-of-life chemistry has less to do with making a large variety of complex
molecules – it’s about why life only picks out a select few and uses them over
and over. I study the oligomerization of small molecules. Starting with a
single substance such as formaldehyde (CH2O), a whole plethora of
molecules can be formed including polyethers, oxanes, and a whole range of
sugars. Now add a second substance into the mix and the diversity of molecules
explodes exponentially.
Now if indeed we humans have evolved to be information guzzlers, as suggested by Gazzaley and Rosen, and there is a
thermodynamic law that favors the increase of information akin to entropy,
there should be a way to quantify this in terms of the information carried in
molecules. But what is this information? Number of elements? Number of atoms?
Number of bonds? Number of adjacent reaction types? Number of downstream
cascades? There are also likely to be constraints that increase certainty and
decrease information – I’m thinking of thermodynamic sinks here. I’m reminded
of Jeffrey Wicken’s book, Evolution, Thermodynamics and Information. It's on my bookshelf. I read it six years ago when I got
interested in origin-of-life research and didn’t understand a lot of it – let’s
just say it was very information-dense. I should revisit the book, but my
summer is almost over! Maybe it will be my project next summer.
The Nautilus article
reminded me that in thinking about quantifying information, we should concentrate
on the symbols that weren’t used, the words that weren’t said that could have
been. A couple of speakers at the recent ISSOL conference made
essentially the same point. We as researchers shouldn’t just focus on how we
got to the current molecules of life, we should be exploring adjacent
chemistries – molecular systems closely related that will give us a clue into
why extant life uses what it uses chemically. Many groups are already doing
this and our chemical community is the richer for it.
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