science, Meta Intelligence

Chance and Necessity

If we free-associate the word “chance” you may arrive at “I’ll take my chances” before potentially arriving at Thomas Bayes’ “Doctrine of Chances”. Jacques Monod was an early explorer of the collision of probability and chance in biology.

THE PRINCE OF CHANCE

Jacques Monod grew up just down the coast from Monte Carlo in Cannes, France, another town famous for its casinos and, later, its film festival. Graced with movie star looks—one prominent French journalist described him as a “prince” who resembled Hollywood icon Henry Fonda, as well as considerable musical talent, and an exceptional intellect, Monod struggled to decide on a career path through his twenties. After distinguishing himself in the French Resistance, Monod rose to fame not as an actor or musician, but as a brilliant biologist. He shared the 1965 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for seminal discoveries about how genes work.

A pioneer in the field of molecular biology, Monod was privy to the blizzard of discoveries in the 1950s and early 1960s about the molecules that determined the characteristics of living things—what Monod and others dubbed “the secrets of life.” He kept close company with a relatively small international community of leading researchers. For example, when James Watson and Francis Crick cracked the structure of DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid) in 1953, Monod was one of the first with whom Watson shared the breakthrough.

But as a Frenchman steeped in his culture’s deep philosophical traditions, Monod was interested in science for more than just science’s sake. After the war, Monod befriended France’s leading philosopher-writer Albert Camus, and the two men pondered questions of human existence in Left Bank cafés. Monod felt that the public misunderstood the principal purpose of science as being the creation of technology. Rather, Monod believed technology was merely a by-product. He said, “the most important results of science have been to change the relationship of man to the universe, or the way he sees himself in the universe”—a relationship of equally intense interest to his friend Camus.

Monod thought that there were profound philosophical implications of the new molecular biology, particularly in the realm of heredity, which had gone largely unnoted in the broader culture. Several years after his Nobel Prize and Camus’ untimely death, he decided to write a book to try to bring the meaning of modern biology to laypersons.

“[T]he ‘secret of life’…has been laid bare,” he wrote.

“This, a considerable event, ought certainly to make itself strongly felt in contemporary thinking.”

Monod used several chapters to describe the insights that had very recently emerged from the study of DNA and the deciphering of the genetic code. He understood this knowledge would be unfamiliar to most readers, so he included an appendix with chemical structures of proteins and nucleic acids, and a primer on how the genetic code worked.

In a matter-of-fact style, he explained genetic mutations as accidental alterations—substitutions, additions, deletions, or rearrangements—in the text of DNA, in the sequence of the long strings of chemical bases (A C TT G A T AA, etc.) that make up genes.

Then, almost without warning, he turned to the broader implications of how mutations arise in DNA. It is worth quoting him at length for after 111 pages of background, he delivered one of the most powerful ideas in five centuries of science (all italics are original):

“We call these events accidental; we say they are random occurrences. And since they constitute the only possible source of modifications in the genetic text, itself the sole repository of the organism’s hereditary structure, it necessarily follows that chance alone is at the source of every innovation, of all creation in the biosphere.

“Pure chance, absolutely free but blind, at the very root of the stupendous edifice of evolution: this central concept of modern biology is no longer one among other possible or even conceivable hypotheses. It is today the sole conceivable hypothesis, the only one that squares with observed and tested fact. And nothing warrants the supposition—or the hope—that on this score our position is likely ever to be revised.

“There is no scientific concept, in any of the sciences, more destructive of anthropocentrism than this one.”

In essence, heretofore obscure discoveries in biochemistry and genetics (largely studied at that time in simple bacteria) had upended two millennia of philosophy and religion that put humans at the center or apex of creation. “Man was the product of an incalculable number of fortuitous events,” Monod wrote. “The result of a huge Monte Carlo game, where our number eventually did come out, when it might not well have appeared.”

Le Hasard et la nécessité (Chance and Necessity) appeared in France in October 1970. It was a fairly technical book with several chapters on philosophy and genetics, and those appendices full of chemical diagrams. A first-time author, Monod did not know what reactions to expect.

The merde hit the fan.

The book received dozens of reviews across France and quickly became a bestseller—second only to the French translation of Erich Segal’s Love Story (this was France after all. After it was translated into English, reviews and interviews with Monod were featured in several of the most prominent British and American newspapers and magazines.

Many commentators immediately recognized the threat chance posed to traditional ideas of humanity’s origins and purpose. To Arthur Peacocke, a British biochemist turned prominent theologian, Monod had put forth “one of the strongest and most influential attacks of the century on theism.” A flurry of articles and books appeared with titles such as Anti-Chance: A Reply to Monod’s Chance and Necessity, Beyond Chance and Necessity, and God, Chance, and Necessity. Monod was invited to debate philosophers and theologians both in France and abroad, on television, radio, and in print.

American Calvinist theologian and pastor R.C. Sproul summed up the high stakes posed by chance in the first page of his book Not A Chance:

“It is not necessary for chance to rule in order to supplant God. Indeed, chance requires little authority at all if it is to depose God; all it needs to do the job is to exist. The mere existence of chance is enough to rip God from his cosmic throne. Chance does not need to rule; it does not need to be sovereign. If it exists as a mere impotent, humble servant, it leaves God not only out of date, but out of a job.” More than two hundred pages later, Sproul concluded:

“Chance as a real force is a myth. It has no basis in reality and no place in scientific inquiry. For science and philosophy to continue to advance in knowledge, chance must be demythologized once and for all.”

Sproul and other critics argued that what scientists perceived as chance merely reflected a lack of knowledge of true causes. Perhaps that was the expression of hope to which Monod alluded—the hope that as scientists learned more, our position on the role of chance would somehow be revised.

A SECOND CHANCE

The ensuing fifty years have not played out as either Monod or his detractors hoped. The Frenchman thought that the new insights from molecular biology should be a turning point for modern society-away from traditional beliefs about causes in the natural world toward one that embraced randomness and our chance existence.

Ha! Fat chance. The excitement and fuss stirred by Chance and Necessity simmered down, and Monod passed away a few years later. Surveys reveal that the majority of Americans, for example, continue to believe that everything on earth happens for His reasons.

But Monod’s critics should take no comfort. The province of chance in the biosphere and human life has been revised, although not at all in the scope or direction that they hoped.

The domain of chance has expanded into realms neither Monod nor anyone else imagined.

As we have learned much more about the history and workings of the planet, we have been startled to discover how the course of life has been buffeted by a variety of cosmological and geological accidents—without which we would not be here. As we have explored human history, we have seen how pandemics, droughts, and other civilization-changing episodes have been triggered by random, singular events in nature that easily might not have happened. And as we have probed human biology and the factors that impact our individual lives, we have caught chance red-handed, reigning over the often-thin line between life and death.

This book tells the stories that Monod could not—of astonishing discoveries from the planetary to the molecular scale, from great upheavals across the globe to the machinery of chance that operates within every cell of every creature, including ourselves. And while these discoveries vaporize the comforts of anthropocentrism, the story of chance, I hope you will come to agree, is much more than highfalutin philosophy or the refutation of theologians’ wishful thinking.

I hope that you are awed—awed by the power and the drama of asteroids slamming into the planet, of continents colliding, and of the rapid rising and falling of ice and oceans; awed by the realization that we live on (and are at the mercy of a planet that is far more unstable than our short lives perceive; awed by the knowledge of how random chance is at the source of all of the beautiful and wondrous creatures with whom we share the planet; awed by the unique invisible accidents that made each one of us; and awed by the fact that we humans, recent descendants of bands of hunter-gatherers who persevered through a period of exceptional chaos, have in just the last fifty years or so, figured all of this out!

My goal here is to be comprehensible without being comprehensive. It is almost trivial to claim that the world is the way it is or that we are here because of a long chain of chance, albeit fortunate, events. The explanatory power I seek comes from specificity. It is essential to unpack some of those events to appreciate how they shape the direction of life. The layout of the book follows a simple three-part logic. I’ll begin with inanimate, external chance events that have shaped the conditions for life (Part One, “Stuff Happens”), and then turn to the internal random mechanism within every creature that generates the adaptations to those conditions (Part Two, “A World of Mistakes”). Then, I bring the story to the personal level (Part Three, “23 and You”) and how chance impacts our natural lives, as well as our deaths. Our chance-driven existence shatters long-held beliefs about humanity’s place and raises challenging questions about the meaning and purpose of our lives. In the Afterword, I’ll offer some possible replies with the help of some special guests.

This is a relatively small book for a really big idea. Science has given us a handful of really big ideas over the centuries, but they have been received in funny ways. Darwin had a huge idea that was very simple to understand, and even though the evidence is massive and everywhere, many refuse to believe it. Einstein had a brand new idea, and even though few understand it or the evidence for it, most everyone seems to believe it. Monod had a great idea, but these days most people (other than scholars) have not heard of it, or of him.

My greatest hope, then, is that this short book might be chance’s second chance.
Sean B. Carroll, A Series of Fortunate Events: Chance and the Making of the Planet, Life, and You, Princeton University Press, 2020, pp. 6-12.

Modern biology as described by Monod pushes the linkage of probability, randomness and chance to the center. At the time, this was a very radical and profound way of looking at biology. If we combine Monod’s biology with theoretical physics like Lawrence Krauss’ A Universe from Nothing: Why There Is Something Rather than Nothing, we realize that accidentality is the bedrock on which our knowledge of the universe is built.

Modernity and its Nightmares

Scholars console themselves with the notion that calamitous acts of death and destruction such as The Holocaust, the Bengal famine, and the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are freak, singular aberrations. Psychologically, it’s reassuring to pigeonhole these as exotic historical events for academic study and push them away.

In 1989, Zygmunt Bauman published Modernity and the Holocaust, in which he argues the opposite: that these events are intrinsically linked to modernity. A symptom of the nightmare of modernity can be seen in Shlomo Sternberg’s Dynamical Systems, where he includes a photo of Felix Hausdorff, with a caption explaining the latter’s suicide (to avoid an extermination camp) amid his brilliant mathematical analysis.

At the end of World War II, Allied forces agents detained ten leading German scientists who were thought to have worked on Nazi Germany’s nuclear program. When one of these men, the Nobel Prize-winning chemist Otto Hahn, heard about the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, he is said to have had a nervous breakdown, feeling guilt for his discovery and its use in this tragedy.

The Harvard Nobel Prize-winning economist Amartya Sen focused on the Bengal famine. In Poverty and Famines: An Essay on Entitlement and Deprivation, he explained that the Bengal famine was not the result of food shortages due to flooding, locusts or crop failures, but rather resulted from income shortages and lack of political clout.

The rise of bureaucracy, entwined with modernity, has removed any sense of culpability, as technological breakthroughs can be used to cause horrific events. You may have seen the 2023 film Oppenheimer, which depicts the American theoretical physicist’s guilt over developing atomic weapons amid Congressional hearings. In this framework, Fritz Haber was instrumental in developing the large-scale synthesis of fertilizers and explosives and is considered the “father of chemical warfare” in contrast to the advances he gave us in agriculture.

To quote Stephen Dedalus from James Joyce’s Ulysses, “History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.”

“Fog Everywhere” Continued

[read the previous essay on this topic]

Consider mathematics and the aspect of fog. Nietzsche argued that the world is not knowable to us as a whole. This includes trying to express it with numbers. A recent example is Max Tegmark’s assertion that the universe is not something explained by mathematics; rather, it is itself mathematics. To contrast, Karl Jaspers, summarizing Nietzsche, wrote:

We cannot say what the world as a whole is. It is false to change all processes into a familiar world of our own, and then say: “All is will (everything wills); all is pleasure or pain (everything endures); all is motion (everything flows); all is tone (everything sounds); all is spirit (everything thinks); all is number (everything reckons).” Nietzsche warns us against all notions of the whole: “Let us guard against thinking that the world is a living being…or that the universe is a machine…Let us guard against saying that there are laws of nature…Let us guard against thinking that the world eternally creates novelties.” All these “shadows of God” darken actuality. We are within the world, and the whole of the world is, as a whole, not accessible to us.
Karl Jaspers, Nietzsche: An Introduction to the Understanding of His Philosophical Activity, Henry Regnery Company, 1966, p. 293

Notice in the paragraph quoted above that Nietzsche specifically excludes reducing everything to numbers, in opposition to Tegmark and the simulation hypothesis.

Robert Kanigel describes Srinivasa Ramanujan as “the man who knew infinity” in his biography of the same title, but mathematicians disagree on the ontological status and utility of infinity. The discussion of applying Ramanujan’s sum to arrive at -1/12 is very intricate and complex.

To make things even more puzzling, math students are confronted with the Gaussian integral, with its positive and negative infinities.

You can gain additional insight into infinity with:

Cauchy and Weierstrass had eliminated infinitely small and infinitely great numbers from analysis and replaced them by limits. But the theory of limits that thereby became so central required a clearer theory of the real line, that is to say, a theory of the irrational numbers. And that theory promptly reintroduced the infinite into analysis. The old infinity of infinitesimal and infinite numbers was simply replaced by the new infinity of infinitely large collections.¹²

In 1831 Carl Friedrich Gauss said [Kli72, p. 994], “I protest against the use of an infinite quantity as an actual entity; this is never allowed in mathematics. The infinite is only a manner of speaking, in which one properly speaks of limits to which certain ratios can come as near as desired, while others are permitted to increase without bound.” But only 52 years later, we find this in Cantor’s Grundlagen [Can76, p. 75]: “The idea of considering the infinitely large not only in the form of the unlimitedly increasing magnitude and in the closely related form of convergent infinite series…but to also fix it mathematically by numbers in the definite form of the completed infinite was logically forced upon me, almost against my will since it was contrary to traditions which I had come to cherish in the course of many years of scientific effort and investigations.”

12 See Russell’s Principles of Mathematics [Rus03, p. 304] for a related sentiment.
Shaughan Lavine, Understanding the Infinite, Harvard University Press, 1994, pgs. 38-39

In 1961, the great Russian physicist George Gamow’s popular math and physics overview was republished to great acclaim among science and math aficionados. Intriguingly titled One, Two, Three…Infinity, the book gives you a hint that the relationship of numbers and integers to the concept of infinity is still intriguing even after the intricate analyses of Cauchy, Weierstrass et al.

Let us conclude by considering Zeno’s dichotomy paradox of motion, in which “That which is in locomotion must arrive at the half-way stage before it arrives at the goal.” As the goal is divided into halves, one must complete an infinite number of tasks, which Zeno maintains is an impossibility.

[read the previous essay on this topic]

Is Reality Fundamentally Analyzable or Opaque?

Imagine your childhood. You’re looking out a window in the early afternoon. You see the clouds in the sky, the passers-by and traffic down the street. You have no trouble differentiating a police car from an ambulance. A summary of this can be expressed in the philosophical quote, “your version of the world shows up for you, like a friend at the bus stop.”

All of this suffers from an invasion from two sides: clarity and opacity. Consider the last sentence of the preface from Frederich Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morality (below):

Preface

I

We are unknown to ourselves, we knowers, we ourselves, to ourselves, and there is a good reason for this. We have never looked for ourselves, — so how are we ever supposed to find ourselves? How right is the saying: ‘Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also’;¹ our treasure is where the hives of our knowledge are. As born winged-insects and intellectual honey-gatherers we are constantly making for them, concerned at heart with only one thing — to ‘bring something home’. As far as the rest of life is concerned, the so-called ‘experiences’, — who of us ever has enough seriousness for them? or enough time? I fear we have never really been ‘with it’ in such matters: our heart is simply not in it — and not even our ear! On the contrary, like somebody divinely absent-minded and sunk in his own thoughts who, the twelve strokes of midday having just boomed into his ears, wakes with a start and wonders ‘What hour struck?’, sometimes we, too, afterwards rub our ears and ask, astonished, taken aback, ‘What did we actually experience then?’ or even, ‘Who are we, in fact?’ and afterwards, as I said, we count all twelve reverberating strokes of our experience, of our life, of our being — oh! and lose count … We remain strange to ourselves out of necessity, we do not understand ourselves, we must confusedly mistake who we are, the motto² ‘everyone is furthest from himself’ applies to us for ever, — we are not ‘knowers’ when it comes to ourselves…

Gospel according to Matthew 6.21.

‘Jeder ist sich selbst der Fernste’ is a reversal of the common German saying, ‘Jeder ist sich selbst der Nächste’ ‘Everyone is closest to himself’ i.e. ‘Charity begins at home’, cf. also Terence, Andria IV. 1.12.

Nietzsche, Frederich, On the Genealogy of Morality, Translated by Carol Diethe, Cambridge University Press, 1994, pp. 3-4.

Go back to our initial example of the childhood window. On one hand, our version of the world shows up for us. On the other, since “we are not ‘knowers’ when it comes to ourselves”, we show up as an opaque version of ourselves. As he states at the beginning of the preface, we are unknown to ourselves. If asked, you would most likely not remember the point at which you could differentiate the police car from an ambulance. Imagine meeting a friend during that same period, and instead of thinking of the enjoyable conversation you will have, but the concern that all of these things are impermanent.

The Danish thinker Søren Kierkegaard teaches us that the reason we are opaque to ourselves is that the self is a synthesis waiting to be made. This synthesis would connect the momentary pleasures of time with friends and the impermanence of these things.

Consider the opacity built into science. Science claims that ultimately, there is a logical, mathematical way of understanding what you see while looking out the window. Contrast this with the Dutch historian Pieter Geyl’s assertion that history is an “argument without end.” It could be that scientific inquiry is also a quest without end.

What is the great takeaway from all of this? On Kierkegaard’s side, we face the opacity wall and on the materialist side, we still have the opacity of what we have yet to understand. With each discovery, we continue to see more that we do not yet understand.

Is There a Scheme of Things Underlying Everything?

In The Thibaults (the novel sequence for which Roger Martin du Gard won the 1937 Nobel Prize in Literature), a fundamental motif is the question of whether the universe is coherent. Roughly speaking, there are three competing schools of coherence—science, religion and art. Antoine Thibault discusses with the Abbé (French title for abbot):

Antoine did not seem to hear him. “Just think,” he exclaimed, “what it means to a youngster, when he’s turned loose, by gradual stages, on mathematics, physics, chemistry! Suddenly he discovers that he has all space, the universe, for his playground. And after that, religion strikes him as not only cramped, but false, illogical. Untrustworthy.”
Roger Martin du Gard, The Thibaults, translated by Philip Thody & Ellen Kennedy, Bantam Modern Classic Edition, Viking Press, 1968. page 762.

The climax of this debate appears when Antoine says:

“…I talked just now about Universal Order and a Scheme of Things; but that was merely to talk like everyone else. Actually it seems to me that we’ve as many reasons to question the existence of a Scheme of Things as to take it for granted. From his actual viewpoint the human animal I am observes an immense tangle of conflicting forces. But do these forces obey a universal law outside themselves, distinct from them? Or do they, rather, obey—so to speak—internal laws, each atom being a law unto itself, that compels it to work out a kind of ‘personal’ destiny? I see these forces obeying laws which do not control them from outside, but join up with them, which do nothing more than in some way stimulate them.…And anyhow, what a jumble it is, the course of natural phenomena! I’d just as soon believe that causes spring from each other ad infinitum, each cause being the effect of another cause, and each effect the cause of other effects. Why should one want to assume at all costs a Scheme of Things?…”
Roger Martin du Gard, The Thibaults, translated by Philip Thody & Ellen Kennedy, Bantam Modern Classic Edition, Viking Press, 1968. page 768.

The topic of an underlying scheme of things is close to the central question of Western civilization. In Plato’s Republic, we have the allegory of the dark cave occupied by humanity. It looks at shadows dancing on the wall, projected by a fire. Liberating humanity requires leaving the cave and climbing to the surface of the earth, glimpsing the sun for the first time. From here, with the help of philosophy, humanity flies off and encounters the Logos and the Eidos. Mathematical truth crowns this journey.

Aristotle, Plato’s star pupil and later rival, takes this quest and focuses on the biological. The Athenian tradition invents theory, a pillar of Western tradition, culminating in modern science. Jerusalem’s competing tradition, the Judeo-Christian worldview, derives its scheme of things from divinity before biology and mathematics. Thus, the novel’s debate is ultimately the struggle between Athens and Jerusalem.

Poly-Awareness and the Year 1900

On the way to the year 1900, we encounter the comment, “In 1890 the stock exchanges of London, Paris, Berlin and New York controlled the economic progress of the whole world.” This marriage of geography and the financial world is very striking, culminating with:

The year 1900 was a wonderful one, when men were proud to be middle-class, and to be Europeans. The fate of the whole world was decided around green baize-covered tables in London, Paris or Berlin. Rubber trees from the Amazons were shipped to Malaya, the vast coal seams of the Upper Hwang-Ho were being exploited at the expense of the wretched labourers, and in the north of the Upper Vaal a mining city sprang up in a few short weeks. Mobilized by steam, the planet’s riches were being shifted ‘from one side of the world to the other’, to quote Le Bateau Ivre, on orders flashed by telegraph in two or three minutes. Decisions reached by boards of directors in London, Paris or Berlin affected the lives of millions of human beings who did not suspect that their right to happiness depended on quotations scribbled on blackboards in three noisy exchanges built like temples, in which raged the battles of unbridled financial ambition. Not a single detail escaped the notice of Europe’s financial capitals: they fixed the price of a tram ticket in Rio de Janeiro, and the working hours of a coolie in Hong Kong. So much power had never before been concentrated in so few hands within so small an area of the globe. It was the age of triumph of the European middle classes.
Charles Morazé, The Triumph of the Middle Classes: A Political and Social History of Europe in the Nineteenth Century, Anchor Books, 1968, page ix.

Morazé adds the following sentence, “The Europe of 1900 knew nothing of the world catastrophes which were to come.” At the core of this is the rise of modern science and technology. Max Planck published the first paper that gave us quantum mechanics. David Hilbert, at the 1900 Paris conference of the International Congress of Mathematicians, presented a collection of 23 problems (later known as Hilbert’s problems). Mathematicians, including Grigori Perelman (famous for his contributions to Riemannian geometry), are still attempting to solve these problems.

Henry Adams, attending the Exposition Universelle (1900), observed the dynamo and wrote the chapter “The Dynamo and the Virgin” in his book The Education of Henry Adams. He thinks of the dynamos as a moral force, much as the early Christians felt the Cross.

Remember that in the world of 1900, in the background to all of this, we have the Boxer Rebellion in China, part of the Chinese century of humiliation (which angers them to this day).

The quest for meta-intelligent understanding (i.e., poly-awareness) involves comparing then and now and how they are connected.

Science-Watching: From Ignition to Energy

[from Science & Technology Review July/August 2025 Research Highlights, by Noah Pflueger-Peters]

Achieving ignition at the National Ignition Facility (NIF) proved that harnessing the power of the Sun in a laboratory may be possible. The Sun’s extreme temperatures and pressures cause light elements to fuse together to create heavier ones, releasing enormous energy and sustaining conditions for more thermonuclear reactions. NIF replicates these conditions with inertial confinement fusion, in which lasers compress and heat a target capsule filled with deuterium and tritium (DT), “heavy” isotopes of hydrogen that contain extra neutrons. When the isotopes fuse, they create helium and a neutron, and the lost mass is converted into inertial fusion energy (IFE), which can be harnessed for energy production.

Nuclear fusion produces significantly more energy than either nuclear fission or burning fossil fuels for equivalent amounts of fuel. Since the input materials for fusion energy are plentiful on Earth, an IFE power plant could produce safe, abundant, power grid-compatible energy without highly radioactive byproducts.

Although significant work remains to harness fusion energy, pursuing the development and deployment of IFE is crucial for the nation’s energy security, enabling the United States to shape implementation worldwide, avoid technological surprises from adversaries, and influence technical leadership in other energy-intensive technologies such as AI, machine learning (ML), and supercomputing.

IFE research stretches back to the early days of Lawrence Livermore, and today the Laboratory is fostering the overall fusion ecosystem. Livermore’s unique capabilities, expertise, and connections will be critical to laying the technical, logistical, and legal groundwork to make IFE possible. “IFE is a grand scientific and engineering challenge, something that is so incredibly difficult and high-risk and takes enormous expertise,” says Tammy Ma, Livermore’s IFE Institutional Initiative lead. “This challenge makes it the right kind of problem for national laboratories to pursue.”

This artist’s rendering shows the concept for an inertial fusion energy (IFE) power plant design, with a cutaway to show the plant’s target chamber in the center. Livermore researchers are laying the groundwork for private fusion companies to build similar designs. (Illustration by Eric Smith.)

Designing for Viability

NIF is the only facility to date to demonstrate the ignition and burning plasma conditions that are prerequisites for IFE, but it is an experimental facility for stockpile stewardship research, not a power plant. To be commercially viable and produce the energy to offset costs and meet demands (baseload power), IFE plants will need to generate more than 30 times the energy they deliver to the fusion target on every shot while firing 10 or more shots per second, compared to NIF’s rate of one or two shots per day.

The Laser Inertial Fusion Energy (LIFE) study, conducted between 2008 and 2013, aimed to build directly on technology developed for NIF to achieve IFE and took a systematic approach to this requirement by developing the Integrated Process Model (IPM). (See S&TR, April/May 2009 [archived PDF], pp. 6-15.)

IPM is a technoeconomic model of an IFE power plant with detailed technical and cost breakdowns and interdependencies of key systems and subsystems. “The work done under LIFE was fantastic,” says Ma. “IPM lays out engineering and physics requirements for the entire system to test out different scenarios and see the impact. Now, we not only get to expand on all that but also leverage 15 years of new data from NIF, better codes, and high-performance computing (HPC), as well as new work in AI, ML, advanced manufacturing, diagnostics, and nonproliferation across the Laboratory.”

IPM describes an IFE power plant that requires a solid-state laser driver system to “pump” lasers with optical energy using laser diodes instead of flashlamps as at NIF. The plant will also need to fabricate and fill target capsules onsite and send them into its target chamber at a high enough frequency to produce baseload power. “We will have to repeatedly inject targets into the chamber, so the targets must be able to withstand and survive that process,” explains Ma. “Then, the lasers will track the moving targets, and when one gets to the center of the chamber, they would fire on the centered target, repeating 10 to 20 times per second.”

The facility would convert fusion energy into heat and then electricity via steam turbines, sending most of the electricity to the power grid and recycling the rest to power operations on subsequent shots. Neutrons from the reaction would produce tritium needed for the DT fuel by bombarding lithium isotopes in a “breeding blanket” material lining its target chamber. By closing both the power and fuel cycles, IFE plants are expected to be self-sustaining.

Thanks in part to IFE STARFIRE (IFE Science and Technology Accelerated Research for Fusion Innovation and Reactor Engineering), a Department of Energy (DOE)-funded multi-institutional IFE research and development hub, researchers across the Laboratory are working to meet the new system’s demands. IPM can help identify key challenges, test the viability of new designs, and direct future research. “Many technical models and cost models exist for IFE, but very few, if any, pair systems and cost models together at the same depth as IPM,” says Mackenzie Nelson, a technoeconomic systems analyst in the Computational Engineering Division. “This type of tool offers such an advantage because we can assess design choices from both a technical and economic standpoint and create blueprints for what an IFE plant could look like.”

(left to right) Livermore researchers Bassem El Dasher, Claudio Santiago, and Mackenzie Nelson discuss a 3D model of a proposed IFE power plant design alongside the Integrated Process Model (IPM). IPM has more than 270 potential user inputs that researchers and collaborators can use to assess different IFE design choices to see the technical and cost impact on the entire design.

Operational Demands

NIF’s target capsules are extremely precise, fragile, and can take weeks to fabricate, fill, and position. Researchers are trying to reconcile that factor with the estimated demand of more than 800,000 capsules per day produced at less than $0.50 each to achieve IFE plant viability. To do this, they are examining optimal target designs for IFE and exploring advanced manufacturing methods such as microfluidics, volumetric additive manufacturing, and two-photon polymerization. (See S&TR, April/May 2025 [archived PDF], pp. 16-19.) Additional projects involve developing diagnostic instruments that can collect, analyze, and combine data with other diagnostics at the 10 to 20 shot per second frequency and use it to improve lasers in real time.

Fusion energy systems such as IFE are also a regulatory challenge, as they generate high-energy neutrons capable of breeding plutonium or uranium-233 and rely on large quantities of tritium. “Pure fusion energy systems do not require fissile material, but there are still ways to misuse these technologies that pose proliferation risk,” says Yana Feldman, the associate program leader for international safeguards. Bad actors may only need small amounts of tritium to make nuclear weapons, and some breeding blanket designs may inadvertently produce traces of plutonium that may be diverted for military purposes.

Nuclear fission reactors are regulated through international agreements and export control rules, and the independent International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) verifies that nuclear material and facilities are only being used for peaceful purposes. Neither treaties nor the IAEA address fusion energy, and no consensus has been reached on whether fusion energy systems need an international verification program. Verification methods for safeguarding tritium are also far less developed than for plutonium and uranium and focus more on contamination and transfers than analytical accounting for discrepancies. The precise scale of allowable tritium unaccounted for without posing proliferation risk is also unclear.

Fusion systems can be designed for proliferation resistance, but not having an existing design remains a challenge.

International security analyst Anne-Marie Riitsaar and her colleagues are exploring these complexities and starting conversations with international fusion experts and private industry to raise awareness. Riitsaar also plans to collaborate with the IPM team to map tritium diversion vulnerabilities and identify high-risk points where researchers could incorporate surveillance methods into plant designs to detect and prevent potential misuse. “People sometimes ask me why I’m thinking about fusion energy regulations and proliferation risks at this point, but it’s not too early,” says Riitsaar. “Reaching a multinational consensus on regulating sensitive technologies takes considerable time and effort.”

The National Ignition Facility is an experimental facility and not a power plant, so a commercial IFE plant design has vastly different requirements—many of which are being studied by Livermore researchers and their collaborators.

	NIF	Viable IFE plant (estimated)
Repetition rate	One shot per day	10 to 20 shots per second
Energy gain	4.13 times (as of April 2025)	30 times (minimum), 50 times to 100 times (ideal)
How lasers gain energy	Flashlamps	Diode pumping
Target fabrication and fuel filling	Fabricated offsite over several weeks and filled manually in 1 to 5 days	Mass-manufactured and filled in a target factory within the facility
Target delivery	Positioned manually within the Target Chamber	Shot into the plant’s target chamber approximately 10 to 20 times per second
Laser alignment	Computationally in real time, taking up to 8 hours	In real time
Power cycle	Open, requiring outside energy sources	Closed, applying reused energy to power laser and ancillary plant operations
Fuel cycle (tritium)	Produced offsite	Bred onsite

The Laser Driven Fusion Integration Research and Science Test Facility (LD-FIRST) is a proposed blueprint for a proof-of-concept IFE facility that will test all the key IFE subsystems in an integrated fashion. A public-private partnership will likely be necessary to build the facility and will help the IFE community address the main subset of risks and the technological challenges of building a commercial plant.

Converging on a Solution

The team seeks to make IPM as accurate and comprehensive as possible by meeting with subject matter experts across the Laboratory to incorporate the latest research. “We’re trying to evolve the model so it has the same level of high detail across every single functional area to tell us where we can focus research and help us find optimized solutions that we could propose to industry,” says Nelson.

Computer scientist Claudio Santiago and his colleagues also modernized IPM by porting its framework from Microsoft Excel to Python in December 2024, making it compatible with AI, ML, design optimization, and HPC to further inform designs. “Once we think about all the forcing functions such as minimum shot yield and materials requirements pinning us in from every direction, we end up with an optimized solution space. As we sharpen the pencil more with these tools, that optimized solution box gets smaller until eventually we’ve converged on a point design,” says IFE lead systems engineer Justin Galbraith. Galbraith and his team’s point design is called the Laser Driven Fusion Integration Research and Science Test Facility, or LD-FIRST, a proof-of-concept physics demonstration facility for IFE. “That point design, we anticipate, will serve as the foundation for a future public-private partnership that would facilitate building and realizing a physical facility to focus the IFE community in pursuit of fusion power on the grid,” says Galbraith.

Livermore is leading the charge in IFE, helping the United States develop a technological roadmap, growing and coordinating science and technology efforts within the Laboratory, and fostering partnerships across the fusion industry, academia, and government.

Ma chaired DOE’s “Basic Research Needs for IFE” workshop and report in 2022 and co-chairs the subcommittee providing recommendations on the nation’s fusion activities through DOE’s Fusion Energy Sciences Advisory Committee. She and her team travel often to Washington, D.C., working with DOE and legislators to expand fusion energy research and advocacy in the nation. Livermore also leads a “Collaboratory” with other DOE national laboratories to connect research project leads and facilitate public-private partnerships. The Collaboratory has hosted multiple events with industry, and the Laboratory has partnered with three private companies who aim to design pilot IFE plants.

Meanwhile, Galbraith and other IFE leaders have served as technical advisors for engineering design teams at Texas A&M University and given them IFE-relevant problems to solve, including advanced chamber and blanket design. Galbraith is working with Nelson to develop the IFE plant design portion of a high-energy-density science summer school program, which Nelson is leading in 2025 at the University of California at San Diego, and they have developed IFE curriculum that has been deployed at six universities starting in spring 2025. “We’re hoping we can get a group of students really excited about fusion and start to build up the next generation of engineers and scientists that will make fusion a reality,” says Galbraith. The team has led IFE strategic planning exercises at the Laboratory, and Lawrence Livermore will stand up a new fusion institute—named “LIFT,” for Livermore Institute for Fusion Technology—a research and development center that will coordinate and centralize institutional fusion energy research.

Harnessing IFE will be a massive undertaking, but Livermore’s broad and deep expertise, facilities, and capabilities put the Laboratory in a unique position to lead and play an impactful role. “If we can set it up correctly, IFE will be a big piece of the Laboratory’s long-term vision,” says Ma. “IFE plays off of our history and all of our strengths, and it is critical for long-term national security.”

Being at Home in the World/Universe

The French philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty provided an introduction to the problem of being at home when he wrote:

“The world is not what I think, but what I live through. I am open to the world, I have no doubt that I am in communication with it, but I do not possess it; it is inexhaustible. ‘There is a world’, or rather: “There is the world’; I can never completely account for this ever-reiterated assertion in my life.”
Joseph J. Kockelmans (Editor), Phenomenology: The Philosophy of Edmund Husserl and Its Interpretation, Anchor Books Edition, 1967, page 369.

Remy C. Kwant, in his essay “Merleau-Ponty and Phenomenology”, commented:

For, according to him, the original lies buried in a dimension of darkness in such a way that it cannot be brought to light. Our existence is interwoven with the world, is a dialogue with the world. This dialogue reaches its most profound point there where the first and most original meaning arises, a meaning that is pre-conscious and pre-personal. Whatever is in our consciousness, whatever comes to light, becomes lucid, originates also in this darkness. As we have seen, man is able to obtain a measure of knowledge regarding this dark depth. He is able to divine something about the mysterious dialogue between the body-subject and the world. However, according to Merleau-Ponty, an absolute illumination of the phenomenal field is in principle impossible. All man can do is to erect some pointers in a darkness which resists full illumination.
Joseph J. Kockelmans (Editor), Phenomenology: The Philosophy of Edmund Husserl and Its Interpretation, Anchor Books Edition, 1967, page 390-391.

We sense that the interaction between ourselves and the world at every level may not be explainable. Therefore, we seek emotional or psychological shelter. The three levels of shelter are:

hearth and home
a sense of belonging
gods

Think of the song, “A House Is Not a Home”, sung by Dionne Warwick. “A chair is still a chair / Even though there’s no one sitting there … But a room is not a house
/ And a house is not a home” depicts the human longing for shelter via hearth and home. The French philosopher Bruno Latour referred to this as a “parliament of things.”

Consider “Gimme Shelter” by The Rolling Stones, as well as the novel (and later film) The Sheltering Sky by Paul Bowles. Both of these cover the deep issue of shelter.

Heidegger’s essay “Building Dwelling Thinking” (German: Bauen Wohnen Denken) states:

In what follows we shall try to think about dwelling and building. This thinking about building does not presume to discover architectural ideas, let alone to give rules for building. This venture in thought does not view building as an art or as a technique of construction; rather it traces building back into that domain to which everything that is belongs. We ask:

What is it to dwell?

How does building belong to dwelling?

I

We attain to dwelling, so it seems, only by means of building. The latter, building, has the former, dwelling, as its goal. Still, not every building is a dwelling. Bridges and hangars, stadiums and power stations are buildings but not dwellings; railway stations and highways, dams and market halls are built, but they are not dwelling places. Even so, these buildings are in the domain of our dwelling. That domain extends over these buildings and yet is not limited to the dwelling place. The truck driver is at home on the highway, but he does not have his shelter there; the working woman is at home in the spinning mill, but does not have her dwelling place there; the chief engineer is at home in the power station, but he does not dwell there. These buildings house man. He inhabits them and yet does not dwell in them, when to dwell means merely that we take shelter in them. In today’s housing shortage even this much is reassuring and to the good; residential buildings do indeed provide shelter; today’s houses may even be well planned, easy to keep, attractively cheap, open to air, light, and sun, but—do the houses in themselves hold any guarantee that dwelling occurs in them? Yet those buildings that are not dwelling places remain in turn determined by dwelling insofar as they serve man’s dwelling. Thus dwelling would in any case be the end that presides over all building. Dwelling and building are related as end and means. However, as long as this is all we have in mind, we take dwelling and building as two separate activities, an idea that has something correct in it. Yet at the same time by the means-end schema we block our view of the essential relations. For building is not merely a means and a way toward dwelling—to build is in itself already to dwell. Who tells us this? Who gives us a standard at all by which we can take the measure of the nature of dwelling and building?
Martin Heidegger, Poetry, Language, Thought, (translated by Albert Hofstadter), Harper & Row, 1975, pages 145-146.

Stuart Kauffman comes at this from a different angle:

Who are we? Where did we come from? Why are we here? Did Neanderthal, Homo habilis, or Homo erectus ask? Around which fire in the past 3 million years of hominid evolution did these questions first arise? Who knows.

Somewhere along our path, paradise has been lost, lost to the Western mind, and in the spreading world civilization, lost to our collective mind. John Milton must have been the last superb poet of Western civilization who could have sought to justify the ways of God to man in those early years foreshadowing the modern era. Paradise has been lost, not to sin, but to science. Once, a scant few centuries ago, we of the West believed ourselves the chosen of God, made in his image, keeping his word in a creation wrought by his love for us. Now, only 400 years later, we find ourselves on a tiny planet, on the edge of a humdrum galaxy among billions like it scattered across vast megaparsecs, around the curvature of space-time back to the Big Bang. We are but accidents, we’re told. Purpose and value are ours alone to make. Without Satan and God, the universe now appears the neutral home of matter, dark and light, and is utterly indifferent. We bustle, but are no longer at home in the ancient sense.
Stuart Kauffman, At Home in the Universe: The Search for the Laws of Self-Organization and Complexity, Oxford University Press, 1995, page 4.

Kauffman comes to grips with this problem with the final line above. He continues:

In this new view of life, organisms are not merely tinkered-together contraptions, bricolage, in Jacob’s phrase. Evolution is not merely “chance caught on the wing,” in Monod’s evocative image. The history of life captures the natural order, on which selection is privileged to act. If this idea is true, many features of organisms are not merely historical accidents, but also reflections of the profound order that evolution has further molded. If true, we are at home in the universe in ways not imagined since Darwin stood natural theology on is head with his blind watchmaker.
Stuart Kauffman, At Home in the Universe: The Search for the Laws of Self-Organization and Complexity, Oxford University Press, 1995, pages 25-26.

Kauffman wants to complete the Darwinian revolution by adding self-organization and complexity to natural selection. In his vision, this will begin to produce a holistic picture of who we are. This will perhaps allow us to feel “We are all at home in the universe, poised to sanctify by our best, brief, only stay.” [page 30.]

Zooming out from this, we can see a meta-intelligent sense in which science believes it can convert mysteries into problems using math. In contrast to this, philosophers believe the opposite, that the problems are becoming more mysterious.

Looking Back to Look Forward

Winston Churchill said, “The farther back you can look, the farther forward you are likely to see.”

The brilliant baseball player and coach Satchel Paige seems to disagree with Churchill when he said, “Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you.”

Marc Bloch, in The Historian’s Craft (French: Apologie pour l’histoire), wrote that history is obviously a backward-looking discipline, but warns against the obsession with origins.

Edward Bellamy’s utopian time travel novel, Looking Backward: 2000–1887, is another example of this thought. His protagonist has a prophetic dream in 1888 of the United States in the year 2000. The book critiques the 19th-century U.S. through the lens of the future.

Alain Badiou looks back from the Neolithic period to today, describing it as a “time of crisis.”

…everybody thinks there is a crisis. Is philosophy capable of seizing hold of this crisis, while maintaining its fundamental aims? That is obviously my position I certainly recognize that humanity is in crisis, which I take to be the final spasm of the whole Neolithic period, the period of classes, of private property, of the power of the state, of technology, and so on. This started in Egypt and China six or seven thousand years ago and now this ends up in what is after all a very difficult situation to control. It is the outcome of everything that this gigantic period has swept along with it. This includes the status of truths, which today are perhaps a bit domesticated by an uncontrollable situation of predation and destruction.

After all, technology is tributary to science; everything is supposed to be mediated by information, even aesthetics; love has become calculable because you can calculate scientifically the person who best matches with you. All this indeed is at the origin of a gigantic crisis in philosophy. My own position is that we can be in a position of active resistance to what is happening, while holding onto the original categories of philosophy. A form of resistance that nevertheless consists in dramatically changing into something else. We should not hope to reform the world such as it is: I think this is completely impossible. Of course, one can try to do the best one can, but little by little everyone recognizes that the world we live in is catastrophic. And that is certainly true. It is catastrophic because it is the end—and here we should think big—of several millennia. It is not just the end of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries; it is the end of the world of social classes, of inequalities, of state power, of the subservience to science and technology, of private property colonizing everything, of senseless and criminal wars.
Alain Badiou, Badiou by Badiou, translated by Bruno Bosteels, Stanford University Press, 2022, pages 26-27.

Badiou argues that the world has always been threatened by catastrophe and philosophy is its reaction.

Let us recall that Socrates and Plato were people who already intervened at the end of the Greek city. They too found themselves in a world threatened by catastrophe: they did not live in a stable and established world at all. That ends with Alexander the Great, who brings order to all this in the form of an imperial creation, and finally with the Romans and their monster of a state the likes of which had never been seen before. The Greek city and Greek democracy thus ended in the imperialism of ancient Rome. Thus, we may also find inspiration in Plato in this last regard. Plato is the first complete philosopher, but he already lives in a time of crisis. Of course, Athens was very famous and celebrated, but at the same time it was already corrupted and fragile. During Plato’s own lifetime, not to mention Aristotle, Macedonian imperialism is already present. Aristotle was Alexander the Great’s first tutor; he was a prototype of the corrupted and, moreover, the inventor of academic philosophy!

Similarly, if we take the greatest philosophers—Plato, Descartes, Hegel—we again find the same type of figure. Hegel is obviously the philosopher caught up in the French Revolution and its fundamental transformations; Descartes, for his part, is caught up in the emergence of modern science. All these philosophers are caught up in considerable shakeups of their time, in the fact that an old society is on the verge of dying and the question of what is going to appear that is new. We too find ourselves in the same situation: we must continue along these lines, by taking inspiration from what those philosophers did. Thus, they considered that the moment had come to work on a renewed systematicity of philosophy, because the conditions had changed. So, based on the conditions as they existed, it was time to propose an innovative way out of the existing constraints, an individual and collective liberation. From this point of view, we can find inspiration in the great classical philosophical tradition: we need not reject it, nor claim that all this is finished and find solace in an insurmountable nihilism, nor adopt the Heideggerian critique of metaphysics going back all the way to Plato. All this is pointless, and finally becomes incorporated into the disorder of the world. On the contrary, we must hold onto the fact that philosophy has always been particularly useful, possible, and necessary in situations of grave crisis for the collective, and from there pursue the work of our great predecessors.
Alain Badiou, Badiou by Badiou, translated by Bruno Bosteels, Stanford University Press, 2022, pages 29-30.

Contrast “What was the Neolithic world that led to the unleashing of technology?” (Badiou, Badiou by Badiou, page 25) and “Yesterday don’t matter if it’s gone.” (The Rolling Stones, “Ruby Tuesday”). Perhaps we can conclude that wisdom is knowing when the past is useful in understanding the future.

Why Is Technological History So Misleading?

We are conditioned to think of technological history in a very binary way. For thousands of years before motorized transportation, we think of horses and wind-powered ships. We also sense that if we brought great historical minds from before the industrial revolution to a modern city, most likely they would be stunned by the technology surrounding them. Think of a world of medical science before anesthesia and germ theory.

Let’s modify this binary view of human history. David F. Noble gives us a more accurate view:

Augustine, the chief author of Christian orthodoxy, wrote in The City of God, “there have been discovered and perfected, by the natural genius of man, innumerable arts and skills which minister not only to the necessities of life but also to human enjoyment.” Augustine recognized the “astonishing achievements” that had taken place in cloth-making, navigation, architecture, agriculture, ceramics, medicine, weaponry and fortification, animal husbandry, and food preparation; in mathematics, astronomy, and philosophy; as well as in language, writing, music, theater, painting, and sculpture. But he emphasized again that “in saying this, of course, I am thinking only of the nature of the human mind as a glory of this mortal life, not of faith and the way of truth that leads to eternal life… And, remember, all these favors taken together are but the fragmentary solace allowed us in a life condemned to misery.”⁵

⁵ St. Augustine, The City of God (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1958), pp. 526, 527.
David F. Noble, The Religion of Technology: The Divinity of Man and the Spirit of Invention, Penguin Books, 1999 (originally 1997), pages 11-12.

Note that Augustine wrote The City of God in 426 AD, meaning that even 1600 years ago, they had already made colossal advances. The prejudice that we have, given our scientific training, is utterly misleading. Rather than being blinded by Biblical explanations of how the world came to be, Augustine lauded these scientific advancements. We think of Thomas Edison and the lightbulb, rather than, “Let there be light.”

There are various levels of empirical and artisanal knowledge. In cooking, we rarely worry about molecules that make up ingredients. All these daily life pillars Augustine lists cannot be overlooked, even as we unlock the submicroscopic world of quantum mechanics.