The contentious issue of conodont taxonomy had implications far beyond this still relatively obscure group of fossils. In the United States in 1953, Ray Moore had published the first volume of Treatise on Invertebrate Paleontology, which was to become one of the biggest publishing projects in the history of paleontology. Moore had acquired considerable financial support from the Penrose Fund of the Geological Society of America (GSA), having convinced Bassler to offer up an almost complete manuscript in 1948 as proof that the project could make quick headway. It would be the guinea pig.14 Bassler's manuscript, on his favorite bryozoans, had been prepared for Otto Schindewolf's Handbuch der Paläozoologie, which Moore felt a casualty of the war (it certainly was now).
The Treatise was to be a massive catalogue of the invertebrate fossil world, with a summary of what was known about each fossil group. At its heart was a desire to clarify taxonomy and nomenclature, and in Moore's hands, taxonomic abstraction and regulation, and a scattered literature, were to be marshaled into a practical tool.
Wilbert Hass of the USGS had been selected to write the contribution on conodonts. His internal investigations were considered sufficiently groundbreaking – particularly for those wishing to correctly identity these objects. His willingness to destroy names he himself had invented and his closely measured stratigraphic sections demonstrated that he possessed the necessary disinterest and rigor. Moore resolutely believed that the series must obey the ICZN’s Règles, which governed the naming of animals, and consequently the arcane debate taking place in the Journal of Paleontology was of great interest to him. It suggested that the conodonts might be difficult to tame, but this was not the only reason his attention was attracted. He saw in this argument a more fundamental principle and one about which he had long argued in the past.
A graduate of Denison University in Ohio, Moore was another who had gained his doctorate at the University of Chicago, though long before the era of Croneis. He had gone on to become, from 1916, a stalwart of the University of Kansas and the Kansas Geological Survey. By 1953, he was a man of distinction: “If there was a scientific office to be held, he held it. If there was a journal to be edited, he edited it. If there was a scientific idea to be argued, he argued it, and was nearly always remembered in the process.” William Hambleton, his former student, painted a fine word-portrait of the man: “Ray Moore was a man of medium height, stocky, wore glasses and always seemed rumpled. His complexion was tinged with red, especially around the nose. In earlier days, he characteristically smoked a pipe, but later consumed uncounted cartons of Pall Malls which stained his index finger yellow. A kind of sly smile always lingered about his mouth, suggesting amusement or the contemplation that his next question to you might be unusually interesting. He was a person of great appetite – for food, drink, work, play, generosity and appreciation. He possessed a large ego or, perhaps more appropriately, was comfortable in his knowledge of his own worth. His gait was sturdy, suggesting a certain inevitability about reaching a destination. He drove an automobile, not as a mode of transportation, but as an instrument of retribution.”15 Moore could be forthright in his views, and as a consequence he created enemies and missed out on much-desired honors. To these people he was cold, demanding, and intolerant. He even seemed to treat his friends gruffly.16 But in Sylvester-Bradley's desire to see the latest conodont controversy solved he saw his own views echoed. The two men formed an alliance. Both saw the ICZN’s near-decision in 1948 to push fragments out into a lawless wilderness of technical language as a step toward scientific anarchy.
Moore had been among the first to write to Bassler to compliment him on his and Ulrich's 1926 paper and the significant turn it marked as the science faced up to the utilitarian needs of the oil industry. It was this work that made him rethink the possibilities of his own favorite fossils, the sea lilies, or crinoids, which although not microfossils did break down into small skeletal parts. In 1939, he suggested that if one could identify these complex animals from their isolated components, one had a fine tool for stratigraphy. However, as Moore admitted, it was rarely possible to allocate these parts to their true species – they were not sufficiently distinctive. But what if one constructed an artificial system, he thought, like that used for conodonts and fossil plants? The names need not reflect true species. Indeed, the practice of naming parts and grouping them, and then having to move them into proper species when a natural association was discovered, seemed to Moore to complicate the use of these fossils in stratigraphy. Better, he thought, to develop an independent taxonomy for these parts – perhaps a simplified version of Croneis's scheme. He set about the huge task of compiling such a scheme for his fossil sea lilies, but when Bassler, who shared an interest in these fossils, heard of Moore's plan, he killed it in its tracks. In a single sentence he dismissed Moore's herculean efforts as worthless.17 This was not the first time these two men locked horns, nor would it be the last; each understood that one man's more radical project could completely undermine that of the other.
With Hass making rapid progress on the conodonts for the Treatise, which he would finish in March 1957, Moore and Sylvester-Bradley took up the cause and requested that the commission make a Declaration introducing the term “parataxon” as a refined notion for form taxa. They contended that this was a rather more straightforward system for paleontologists to understand than Croneis's Roman ranks of nuts and bolts. Had they succeeded, the idea would have been temporarily admitted into the code, to be ratified or rejected at the next international meeting. It would have been applied immediately and gained recognition from practitioners. The commission, however, felt it too radical a step and asked the authors to draft a proposal for the purposes of canvassing opinion prior to a full discussion at the next international meeting in London in 1958. So, in 1956, a draft proposal was circulated by the two men, who solicited support from the paleontological community. Under these proposals the names of parataxa would not be available for naming assemblages: “A wall should be conceived to separate the nomenclature of whole-animal taxa from nomenclature of fragments defined as parataxa.”18 The plan was exactly that which Rhodes had used. Although Moore and Sylvester-Bradley could see wide application in other groups of fossils, workers in those areas would need to make specific bids to the ICZN to permit parataxa to be established for their animals. In June 1956, they supplemented this proposal with the first two such applications. These concerned conodonts and ammonite aptychi (the operculi, or flaps, that closed off the aperture of an ammonite shell, which are usually preserved separately).19 These were to be test cases for the debate that would develop in the Bulletin of Zoological Nomenclature in the run up to the conference.
The conodonts appeared to be the perfect case. By detailed examination of the named assemblages, they revealed complexities of synonymy (two names for the same species), homonymy (one name for more than one species), disputed identification, and unknown stratigraphic ranges. The depth of subjectivity was considerable, but who could dispute the usefulness of these fossils? Only two assemblage names stood in the way of the parataxa locomotive, those of Eichenberg and Schmidt. Eichenberg's animal had been pieced together from discrete parts. It could be considered entirely subjective and unproven. Schmidt's Gnathodus was considerably more secure. It was the only animal that, according to the rules, had a correct name. Schmidt, however, did not wish to stand in the way of a new dual system and offered Westfalicus as a new name for his assemblage if parataxa were adopted.
The proposal concerning aptychi arose entirely separately, and for different reasons, but had been swept up into the parataxa debate simply to remove a competing scheme. William Jocelyn Arkell of the Sedgwick Museum at the University of Cambridge, the world's most distinguished ammonite specialist and Jurassic geologist, had published his own proposal for dealing with these fossils in 1954. Arkell did not want the names given to these aptychi to undermine the beautiful, logical, and long-established names of ammonites when both shell and operculi were united. H
e knew that the laws of priority, which always required the older name to prevail, would inevitably force such a calamity. When Arkell read Moore and Sylvester-Bradley's proposal, he found himself in complete agreement – “I think the authors have made their case completely” – and joined their cause.20
Opposition began to mount in some quarters before Sylvester-Bradley and Moore commenced their consultations. Most vocal was the American Society of Parasitologists. This particular problem arose because Sylvester-Bradley and Moore had discussed their plans with parasite worker J. Chester Bradley and then extended the concept of parataxa to admit the unidentified life stages of these animals. Perhaps the two men felt the support of medical scientists might win the day. Now these scientists were complaining as a system of parataxa would require rather more formality than they desired. The commission asked Moore to consult these parasite specialists, which he did in New York, but he thought the whole thing an unwelcome and unnecessary distraction. This was, however, one parasite the parataxa scheme could not shake off. It produced the first major blemish.
The ICZN sent out a succinct version of the parataxa plan to paleontologists and paleontological institutions in July 1957. Soon letters of support were flooding into the editor of the Bulletin from all areas of the paleontological community, but it was not all good news. Some saw it as a recipe for chaos, while others were clearly annoyed to see Moore championing this particular cause. While Moore could attract the world's best paleontologists to write for the Treatise, and could certainly write a courteous response if required to do so, he was also known for his outspokenness and had created powerful enemies. Ray Bassler was not one of these, although he and Moore were often at loggerheads. And in this new proposal Bassler saw Moore making a second attempt to have his sea lily fragments scheme accepted. Bassler was perceptive; Moore certainly did have these in mind. Bassler saw this as a subversive assault on his position that, if successful, would have personal consequences for him and he complained, “Moore acknowledged that the fragments had no value as genera and species in classification. These fragments probably gave rise to the later term PARATAXA.” He dubbed Sylvester-Bradley “a European sponsor” and called for “all good naturalists to come to the aid of our taxonomy.” He felt that “common good sense” could deal with the problem: “Any name based upon an aptychus can remain until the whole shell is known, whereupon the aptychus-name can go in parenthesis labelled as the operculum. Conodonts can be treated likewise until the entire animal is found, maybe centuries later, but the old unlocated names must be held for stratigraphic reasons.” For the exasperated Bassler it simply wasn't worth wasting any further words on the subject.
Other objections came from groups in which similar problems had been dealt with using the existing rules. Only two conodont specialists objected. Both were at the Oklahoma Geological Survey. The first was Ted Branson's son, Carl, who was simply not convinced that natural assemblages were anything other than coprolitic: “Scott's assemblages are coprolitic associations. The validity of other assemblages is not demonstrated.” He added, “The names of ’assemblages’, said to be natural genera, should be suppressed as unnecessary, premature, and hypothetical.” The second was Robert Fay, who used Branson's view to demonstrate how poorly conodonts were known: “At present there is no competent person to make a decision on the classification of conodonts” due to the unknowns. “We are proceeding along an odd path…. I vote that we dismiss this proposed insertion of parataxa into the Règles, because it is not sound, premature, and unnecessary, and highly subjective.” Conodont workers in support of the plan included Ellison, Schmidt, Furnish, Hass, and new boys Klaus Müller and Rhodes. But the conodont community was simply not large enough to swing the argument in its favor without help.
In some cases groups decided to respond en masse. In Washington, Bassler's call for revolt had hit home. The city's “Nomenclature Discussion Group” received votes from 56 of its 113 members, all against the plan. Bassler was, however, not recorded among the votes cast. These specialists came from a wide range of zoological and paleontological fields and each had considered the possible impact of parataxa on their field; all were certain that confusion would result. Given that the proposal made no suggestion that it should be adopted by all fields, Sylvester-Bradley thought this a peculiar turn of events. Hass, who was then the only conodont worker in Washington, had spoken in favor of the plan but had preferred to write directly to the commission. Hass's colleagues seemed to believe that the simple solution was to recognize no synonymy between the assemblage and the discrete element. In other words, do what Scott had done and ignore the problem.
Sylvester-Bradley responded to the Washington scientists publicly and somewhat defensively, explaining his relationship to Moore in the proposal – he had an interest in resolving taxonomic issues, and not as a specialist in the fossils used as cases for change: “My present interest…is therefore, not that of the parent of a fond child, but still that of one of the Commissioners who is attempting to find a solution to a difficult nomenclatural problem.” Sylvester-Bradley no doubt understood some of the underlying issues that affected the Washington view. What Sylvester-Bradley wanted was constructive argument – not a vote. He encouraged the participants to contribute to the debate.
A meeting of the Institute of Zoology at the Polish Academy of Sciences also reached unanimity: The plan was rejected for use in zoology and accepted as a solution for a limited number of cases in paleontology. The meeting contained no paleontologists. Writing on behalf of the academy, Tadeusz Jaczewski sawparataxa as a kind of opiate that could lead to disfunction and laziness.
The British-based Palaeontological Association and Palaeonto-graphical Society also voted and came out strongly in favor of a system that served the peculiar needs of fossils like conodonts and stabilized their nomenclatures. But they were split down the middle on whether the parataxa proposals were the best solution. They were aware, for example, that entomologist Curtis Sabrosky at the U.S. Department of Agriculture in Washington had proposed an alternative plan based on the system used in paleobotany in which form taxa were well established. Although he disagreed with Sabrosky's definitions, Sylvester-Bradley thought this a possible solution. For him, the terms “parataxa” and “form taxa” were interchangeable. By some clever and subtle maneuvering of terms invented to describe parts of fossil plants, he used this moment to distance the problems of fossils from those of parasites. The latter, one might infer, were no longer part of the parataxa debate.
When Sylvester-Bradley came to summarize the results of the consultation, it was clear that the vote in Washington had sunk the scheme, at least in numerical terms. He had received fifty-three votes in favor of the plan, of which thirty-six had come from individuals. However, those against amounted to seventy-nine, fifty-six of which were votes from the Washington census. Only nine individuals had written in opposition. Sylvester-Bradley mulled over the imperfectly formulated alternatives that had also been put forward. The consultation overall lacked a firm conclusiveness. His published summary was followed by a single sentence letter from fossil fish specialist Errol White at the British Museum (Natural History): “I can answer your circular letter of the 8th July 1957, very briefly by saying that I am dead against special provision for Parataxa in the Règles.”
The fate of the parataxa plan was decided at the Fifteenth International Congress on Zoology, which met at the British Museum (Natural History) in London in July 1958 to celebrate a centenary of Darwinian evolution. Just before the meeting, two letters arrived from the USSR, one from the Palaeontological Institute of the Academy of Sciences and the other from the Institute's Laboratory of Palaeoecology of Marine Faunas.21 Both were translated from the Russian and revealed a remarkable conflict of view. The first letter, from the institute's president, Yuri Orlov, and secretary, Yanovsky, was succinct and fully in agreement with the parataxa plan. The second, from senior staff at the laboratory, which arrived a week later and had been drawn
up independently, had not a single good word for Moore and Sylvester-Bradley's proposal. Their objections were considerable. They thought the plan had been proposed merely to preserve names – an act already possible under the rules – and not to extend knowledge. Indeed, they felt that the plan might actually circumvent scientific progress as workers could remain contented with the practicalities of an artificial system. Doubtless knowing precisely where American science had been heading, they said that even stratigraphers could not be excused the necessity of knowing their animals biologically. The argument gave strong indications of the chaos that might arise if two systems “separated, as by a wall” were permitted to exist. All paleontologists, they pointed out, deal with mere parts of animals.
The colloquium that preceded the meeting decided to defer the question, asking a committee, to which Moore was appointed, to report to the Washington Congress in 1963.22 The conodont volume of the Treatise remained on hold a little longer, the outcome of the parataxa plan critical to its content.
On November 30, 1959, Hass died prematurely; Arkell had died the year before. Hass's loss was a tremendous blow to the Treatise project, so Moore brought in two young bloods who were already revolutionizing the conodont in terms of its understanding and significance: Frank Rhodes and Klaus Müller. Both men had published reviews of conodont knowledge, and although neither were Americans, both had first met in Iowa, where Müller was on sabbatical in 1955. They immediately hit it off and had prepared a joint paper.23
The Great Fossil Enigma Page 14
