James D. Watson, the molecular biologist who helped unravel the very code of life, died this week at the age of 97, closing a chapter on one of the most influential—and contentious—careers in modern science. Watson, whose name is forever linked to the 1953 discovery of the DNA double-helix structure, passed away on Thursday, November 6, 2025, according to the Associated Press and multiple scientific sources. His death marks the end of an era that saw biology transformed from a descriptive science to one that could read, and eventually rewrite, the instructions for living things.
Born on April 6, 1928, in Chicago, James Dewey Watson was something of a prodigy. As reported by PBS, he entered the University of Chicago at just 15, earning a Ph.D. in zoology by 22. His early fascination with genetics propelled him across the Atlantic to Cambridge, England, where he would meet Francis Crick at the University of Cambridge’s Cavendish Laboratory in 1951, as detailed by The Scientist.
Their meeting proved fateful. Together, Watson and Crick became obsessed with deciphering the structure of DNA, the molecule that carries genetic instructions in all living things. They weren’t working in a vacuum—far from it. The pair relied heavily on X-ray crystallography data collected by Maurice Wilkins and Rosalind Franklin at King’s College London. Those famous images, especially Franklin’s Photo 51, provided the critical clues needed to build their model. In 1953, Watson and Crick announced their breakthrough in Nature, describing the now-iconic double-helix structure of DNA. This discovery, as the Associated Press noted, laid the foundation for everything from gene therapy to forensic science.
Recognition was swift and far-reaching. In 1962, Watson, Crick, and Wilkins received the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for their work. Franklin, whose contributions were vital, had died of ovarian cancer in 1958 and was therefore ineligible for the prize, since Nobel Prizes are not awarded posthumously. Watson’s own account of the discovery, his 1968 memoir The Double Helix, brought Franklin’s role to light—though not without controversy. Reviewers and historians have long criticized Watson’s portrayal of Franklin as demeaning and sexist, a charge that has lingered over his legacy.
Despite the criticisms, Watson was not without supporters among women in science. Nancy Hopkins, a molecular biologist at MIT, told The New York Times that Watson, who was a professor at Harvard University from 1955 to 1976, was supportive of female scientists. Hopkins herself was among the young researchers whom Watson mentored during his academic tenure.
Watson’s career, however, was not defined solely by his scientific genius. After leaving Harvard, he took the helm at Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory (CSHL) on Long Island in 1968, transforming it into a world-renowned center for molecular biology. He was also instrumental in launching the Human Genome Project, which aimed to map every gene in human DNA—a feat that would have been unimaginable without the double-helix discovery.
But the story of James Watson is also a cautionary tale about the responsibilities that come with scientific fame. In the 2000s, Watson’s reputation was severely damaged by a series of public remarks suggesting a genetic basis for differences in intelligence between races. According to The Scientist, these comments led Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory to terminate his position in 2007. Watson apologized at the time and retained some honorary titles, but the controversy didn’t end there.
In 2019, Watson appeared in the documentary “American Masters: Decoding Watson,” where he made it clear that his views on race and intelligence had not changed. This prompted CSHL to strip him of his remaining honorary titles. In a public statement, the institution’s board of trustees said, “Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory acknowledges and appreciates Dr. Watson’s substantial scientific legacy. Nonetheless, the statements he made in the documentary are completely and utterly incompatible with our mission, values, and policies, and require the severing of any remaining vestiges of his involvement.”
Watson’s belief in genetic determinism—the idea that DNA alone dictates a person’s traits—was cited by historian Nathaniel Comfort as a root cause of his controversial views. “DNA made him, and DNA unmade him,” Comfort told NPR, capturing the tragic irony of a life spent in pursuit of genetic truths that, when misapplied, can fuel prejudice rather than progress.
Watson’s personal life was, by most accounts, quieter than his professional one. He was married and had two sons. Yet even in family matters, his legacy was colored by the turbulence of his public persona. The shadow cast by his remarks on race and gender has made it difficult for many in the scientific community to separate the man from his achievements.
Still, the impact of Watson’s work is undeniable. The double helix model didn’t just explain how genetic information is stored and replicated—it launched a revolution. From gene editing and personalized medicine to ancestry testing and criminal forensics, the reach of this discovery is everywhere. As PBS observed, the structure that Watson and Crick built in a Cambridge lab more than 70 years ago remains the foundation of modern molecular biology.
Yet, the story of DNA’s discovery is also a reminder of the complex, sometimes messy, human realities behind scientific triumphs. The exclusion of Rosalind Franklin from the Nobel Prize, the debates over credit and recognition, and the later controversies over Watson’s public statements—all these threads are woven into the legacy of one of the 20th century’s most consequential scientists.
As the world reflects on the life and death of James D. Watson, there’s no denying that his contributions changed science forever. But his story also serves as a powerful caution about the limits of genius, the dangers of unchecked beliefs, and the ongoing need for humility and inclusion in the pursuit of knowledge.
