The Dawkins’ tree is wide, from the War of Independence to the shores of Lake Nyasa. Richard’s father read botany, then pursued a career in agriculture — plus service with the King’s African Rifles.
Yet the family don’t qualify as reserved: during one trip from Africa Mrs Dawkins entered a fancy dress competition as a male Indian waiter, darkened by potassium permanganate. The Dawkins left Africa for a farm in England.
Oundle Public School in the fifties brought fagging, Boyle, and Henry V. Even among well-educated adolescents, academic ability ‘was not admired’. Dawkins learned practical skills in a blacksmith’s workshop. As for adolescent music, Elvis Presley fired his imagination.
Balliol College Oxford is revealed as a curious quadrangle with spiral staircases. Views on good lectures are made plain. Don’t scribble. Listen and think: it should stir grey matter. The Victorian Society offered light relief through choruses of I’m Henry the Eighth I Am. Dress code: tweed jackets and trilby hats.
Science debate included innate behaviour versus learning. Dawkins’ research looked at the pecking habits of chicks; and processed huge quantities of data; hence enthusiasm for computer programming proved valuable.
Dawkins married Marian Stamp. They moved to San Francisco, he as an assistant professor and Marian to carry out research for her PhD. Two years later, a return to Oxford delivered a book allowance, research allowance, and free-meals allowance, plus a splendid study in a medieval building that would entrance architects.
Hierarchical organisation is explained as an important principle for watchmakers, robot vehicles, and the analysis of biological data. However, a new theme emerged to much applause: The Selfish Gene, applying to individuals, not species. Like the drunken driver, the selfish gene has no foresight. But I wonder — how many sorts of selfishness can be defined by science?