Arthur T. Johnson

The Famous Engineer Henry Petroski once wrote about one of his students who asked, “Why do engineering students feel superior to those of us studying in nontechnical fields?” [2] . Petroski answered the question like this: “Engineers are recognized as the creative people who bring us innovations like the smart phone, the personal computer, the Internet, and the World Wide Web, all of which have revolutionized the way we live, work, and play.” He concluded that engineers are considered superior because of their knowledge and creativity. I’m not sure that he came to the correct conclusion.

One reason for all engineers to learn about biological evolution is that evolution is a paradigm for the engineering design process. Consider that the first attempt at a practical technical solution to some societal need is usually fairly crude and not very satisfying. However, as the first attempt, it finds some acceptance, and can be produced and marketed with the advantage of being first. As customer feedback builds, improvements begin to be apparent. The next prototype incorporates these improvements, as much as possible, and meets the societal need better than the first model. Technological advances usually occur incrementally, and these are incorporated into subsequent models as they become known. The product, like the technological knowledge, improves incrementally. Market success usually guarantees that there will be competition with other, similar, products meant to attract customers interested in that class of products. As the field becomes more mature, the differences among products become more and more subtle.

Can artificial intelligence (AI) systems ever achieve anything close to consciousness? There is presently an intense speculation about whether they can or cannot [6] .

The late physicist and Nobel Prize winner Linus Pauling once said. “The best way to have a good idea is to have lots of ideas.” And, that also implies that, of the many ideas generated in one’s head, a lot of them would not be classified as “good”; not all of our ideas are worth the calories they take to develop them.

The final hurdle for all Ph.D. candidates in our department at the university was an oral defense of their thesis work. The thesis was a formal report of the research project that had usually taken candidates years to finish. Along the way, they had to satisfy a list of course requirements, and the knowledge that they should have learned in these courses was also fair game for questioning by an Advisory Committee of faculty members who had guided the candidate over the years and attended the oral defense.

The story is told that a juggler who can suspend five objects will invariably be asked if he or she can juggle six objects. Jugglers who can handle six objects at a time will almost always be asked if he or she can handle seven. No matter how many things a juggler can deal with at a time, he or she will inevitably be asked if they can juggle one more.

Imagine technology as a living being. Perched on its left shoulder is a miniature angel, representing the good uses and beneficial consequences of the technology. On its right shoulder is a small devil, the bad or unintended consequences of the technological application. Every technology that I know has these two potential results: one that we might call “good,” and the other we might deem “bad,” or, at least, “undesirable.”

But, readers of this publication are more or less conversant with medical matters: diseases, treatments, physiologies, genetics, monitoring, interventions, and many more. We are aware of means to protect and foster health, including nutrition, life styles, exercises, medicines, rest, and therapies. We probably know a lot about the details, causes, and prognoses for many common medical ailments. We may even know enough medical lingo to parse out the meaning of less-common medical terms. With all that knowledge, others around us may look to us for medical advice; if they don’t, we are often tempted to offer it anyway. Ours is a world of knowledge with importance to ourselves, our families, our friends, and our acquaintances. It is a good position to be in, with many of the benefits of a purveyor of medical knowledge without most of the responsibilities of being a medical practitioner.

Tom Keating spent a tour in the U.S. Army in Vietnam in 1969–1970, returned home, and said very little to others about his experiences over there [1] . After the dedication of the Vietnam Veterans’ War Memorial in 1982 (called by Veterans “The Wall”) in Washington, D.C., Tom decided he had to visit and look up the inscribed name of his friend who had been killed in the war.