Life has continued to baffle scientists since the dawn of biology. The discovery of DNA dispelled the impenetrability of living systems, while simultaneously arousing many new questions and mysteries. In this regard, any theory proposed before the discovery of genes belongs more to the archaeology of the problem than to its solution. One such case is What Is Life? by Erwin Schrödinger, widely recognized as an inspiration to Watson and Crick, and considered one of the most influential texts in the philosophy of science ever written by an accomplished, results-driven scientist.
This article, the first of three, seeks to explore the connection between living matter, information, and activity. For too long, it has been assumed that only humans possess the capacity to shape the world through observation. I propose a different perspective—one that recognizes the potential for meaningful and active experience in other forms of life. Life, in this view, is an ever-evolving process of transforming the world, whether through thought or computation, not solely governed by the tyranny of genes or the environment.
Let us begin with the first question: Can the laws of physics explain life? How can order emerge from chaos?
To be alive is, in a sense, to resist the second law of thermodynamics. Entropy—defined as the measure of disorder in a system—tends to increase or remain constant. The transition from simplicity to complexity almost always entails a rise in entropy. Although entropy is often equated with chaos, a more accurate, albeit colloquial, representation is uncertainty. An increase in entropy reflects how many microstates are possible within a given volume of atoms.
Consider, for example, a system of 10 atoms placed within a 10×10 grid: a microstate represents one of many possible configurations of these atoms. If the grid is expanded, entropy increases because there are more possible arrangements. Conversely, if the grid is reduced beyond its original dimensions, entropy decreases due to the reduced number of available positions.
Take an arbitrary number of atoms, N, in a volume V—doubling the volume increases entropy. Similarly, mixing two substances raises the entropy of the system. From this perspective, one might intuitively expect that the intricate structures of living beings are high in entropy. Yet, paradoxically, they appear stable, highly organized, and far removed from chaos or uncertainty.
Schrödinger confronted this paradox in his essay What Is Life?, attempting to explain biological order using the very laws of physics that seemed to argue against its existence. Although DNA was discovered in 1869, it wasn’t until 1944 that it was firmly identified as the carrier of hereditary traits. Schrödinger’s essay, based on lectures delivered in 1943, contributed significantly to this line of inquiry. However, his influence lay more in illuminating the what of genetic information, rather than the how—a mystery ultimately unraveled by Watson and Crick in 1953.
For Schrödinger, the key to life lay in a diminutive “aperiodic crystal,” [1] a structure that appeared to contradict established canons of thermodynamics. He proposed that the carrier of hereditary traits resided in an intermediate zone between the atomic world governed by the laws of physics and a hypothetical domain of biological laws—laws that seemed to defy the second law of thermodynamics. Yet, some reconciliatory paths are possible.
Entropy can be interpreted both objectively and subjectively. Objectively, it refers to the number of microstates available in a system, as explained earlier. Subjectively, it denotes the uncertainty in the atomic positions within any given volume. In essence, as the number of atoms increases, so too does the macroscopic ignorance regarding their motion. Seen from this perspective, any living being, composed of millions of atoms, lies beyond the strict predictive power of atomic-level laws. Still, organisms must obey both the macroscopic Newtonian paradigm and the microscopic quantum model of physics.
Entropy can be interpreted both objectively and subjectively. Objectively, it refers to the number of microstates available in a system, as explained earlier. Subjectively, it denotes the uncertainty in the atomic positions within any given volume
However, interatomic physical laws are only approximations. Due to Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle, there is a fundamental limit to how precisely one can measure atomic behavior—atomic positions become probabilities, not certainties. As a result, large numbers of atoms are required to observe regularities, shifting physical laws from deterministic to probabilistic. Schrödinger illustrated this with examples like paramagnetism and Brownian motion: phenomena that appear stable but are underpinned by chaotic atomic behavior. In general, regularity emerges when a system contains enough atoms for individual interactions to average out and become negligible.
Yet, the aperiodic crystal defies this expectation. It is not large enough to be safe from atomic forces, yet it remains remarkably stable. Something new emerges in this, as later discovered in DNA: a structure resilient to atomic-level disruptions. While Schrödinger did not reach a full explanation, the structure of his reasoning remains compelling.
He then turns to the phenomenon of genetic mutation. Although rare, genes do mutate. Following Hugo de Vries’s mutation theory, Schrödinger suggested that mutations occur as quantum leaps. These events are infrequent because genetic stability is essential for maintaining life. Nevertheless, mutations can be artificially induced—for instance, by exposure to X-rays. Unknown to Schrödinger, DNA possesses the remarkable ability to repair itself. This self-correcting feature explains why so few mutations persist unscathed—phenomenologically, stability endures.
Schrödinger also speculated on changes at the isomeric level. Despite the diversity of DNA, it is composed primarily of just five atomic elements, which together form the vast majority of its structure. The aperiodic crystal, therefore, is a non-repetitive structure where these few elements are arranged in countless possible configurations. Two substances are considered isomers if they contain the same atoms arranged differently. To account for the apparent stability of genes, Schrödinger, following de Vries, theorized that mutation could involve an internal atomic rearrangement.
Ultimately, Schrödinger concluded that life may require new physical laws to explain how it sustains change while preserving order. Unlike nonliving systems, which naturally tend toward equilibrium in accordance with thermodynamics, life resists this state—until death, the point at which entropy reaches its maximum and becomes inevitable. As with a wound-down clock, which stops ticking without intervention, life continues resisting equilibrium until it can no longer sustain itself.
Physically, an organism avoids decay primarily through nourishment and metabolism, yet any oxygen atom is identical to another, so there is no inherent physical reason for this avoidance. Likewise, the calories found in food are indistinguishable from those stored in the body. Clearly, food is necessary for life, but incorporating substances increases volume, the number of atoms, and consequently, the number of microstates. To live is to endure an internal inferno of ever-increasing entropy—what, then, keeps the orderly skin from bursting into chaos?
Schrödinger proposes the brilliant and somewhat speculative notion of “negative entropy.” If living means dwelling in uncertainty and disorder, then living beings ingest order. To be alive is to increase microstates, and to delay decay, organisms must introduce a counterbalance: some form of order that reduces uncertainty. They extract this order from the environment. Therefore, we must formulate new laws that can explain two phenomena: how the minute atomic configuration of genes can remain stable amid chaotic atomic forces, and how it can govern the persistence of a multicellular body within macroscopically chaotic conditions.
What philosophical insights might emerge from these reflections? First and foremost, we must acknowledge that “negative entropy” does not exist—although, given the premises, it remains a valid interpretative conclusion. The laws of thermodynamics stand unchallenged; what does not exist is negative entropy as a measurable entity. The real answer lies in information—a subject we shall explore in the second article.
Using Schrödinger’s framework, the primary, albeit inconclusive, observation is that life is an act of resistance to decay and uncertainty. Living matter appears, at least phenomenologically, as a being that actively exercises freedom. To be free, it must be conceived as possessing an internal world and, therefore, a computational understanding of the inside/outside duality.
Using Schrödinger’s framework, the primary, albeit inconclusive, observation is that life is an act of resistance to decay and uncertainty.
A being that is uncertain yet draws in order is also, in Freudian terms, one that resists the death drive and flourishes in Eros. In this sense, Schrödinger’s logic holds: until death—the final defeat—order weaves through the threads of life, and new physical and biological laws are needed to dispel the fog surrounding the apparent contradiction with thermodynamics. Thus, the first conclusion suggests an active relationship between living beings and their environment, and posits the bold possibility that every living organism is capable of creating a world for itself. We must grant that nature inserts some degree of order into the organism to maintain homeostasis. No—life does not deny entropy; it thrives in spite of it, as though the laws of physics must be refined when applied to the wondrous acts of resistance we call life.
References:
Schrödinger, Erwin. What is life? The Physical Aspect of the Living Cell. Cambridge University Press, 1967.
Notas
[1] Erwin Schrödinger, What is life? The Physical Aspect of the Living Cell (Cambridge University Press, 1967), 5.
