James Watson, the American scientist whose name is synonymous with the discovery of the double helix structure of DNA, died on November 6, 2025, at the age of 97. Watson’s life and career, marked by both extraordinary scientific achievement and deep controversy, serve as a stark reminder of the complex humanity behind even the most groundbreaking discoveries. According to multiple sources, including The Print and The New York Times, Watson’s death has reignited debates over his scientific legacy and the personal views that ultimately led to his public disgrace.
Born in Chicago on April 6, 1928, to immigrant parents, Watson showed an early affinity for zoology and natural history. His intellectual journey took a decisive turn after reading Erwin Schrödinger’s influential book, What Is Life?, which sparked his fascination with genetics. He earned his PhD from Indiana University in 1950, studying bacteriophages under Nobel laureate Salvador Luria. That same drive would soon propel him onto the world stage.
Watson’s defining moment came in 1953, when he and Francis Crick, working at the Medical Research Council Unit in Cambridge, UK, unveiled the double helix structure of deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA). Their model, published in the journal Nature on April 25, 1953, described DNA as two intertwined, oppositely running strands forming a spiral, with precise base-pairing between adenine and thymine, and cytosine and guanine. This discovery, as The Print notes, revolutionized biology and medicine, laying the foundation for modern genetics, gene therapy, biotechnology, and forensic science.
The path to this discovery was anything but straightforward. Watson arrived at the MRC Unit in September 1951, initially to work with John Kendrew, who was then investigating the structure of myoglobin. There, Watson met Crick, and the two quickly became collaborators, united by a desire to unravel the molecular basis of heredity. Their efforts drew on the work of numerous contemporaries, including Rosalind Franklin and Maurice Wilkins, whose X-ray diffraction images—most notably Franklin’s famous Photograph 51—provided crucial insights into DNA’s structure.
Watson and Crick’s work was informed by earlier developments, such as Linus Pauling’s alpha-helical model of proteins and Erwin Chargaff’s discovery of base-pair equivalence in DNA. Despite a rocky start—Franklin herself dismissed their early models as fundamentally flawed—the pair persisted. As recounted in The Print, Crick famously announced in the Eagle pub in Cambridge on February 28, 1953, that they had “found the secret of life.” Three seminal papers, by Watson and Crick, Wilkins and colleagues, and Franklin and Gosling, appeared back-to-back in Nature that April, cementing the discovery.
Watson’s account of these events, captured in his bestselling memoir The Double Helix (1968), offered a candid, if sometimes controversial, look at the personalities and rivalries that fueled the race to decode DNA. His earlier textbook, Molecular Biology of the Gene (1965), also had a profound impact on the field, shaping generations of molecular biologists.
Beyond his research, Watson played a pivotal role in transforming Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory (CSHL) in New York into a world-class center for molecular biology. He served as director from 1968 to 1974, and later as chancellor from 2004 to 2007. He was also a key advocate for the Human Genome Project, which began in 1990 and concluded in 2003, pushing for the open and public release of genomic data.
Yet, for all his scientific triumphs, Watson’s career was dogged by controversy. His penchant for bluntness and a lack of self-censorship often landed him in hot water. According to The Print, Watson’s remarks about race, intelligence, and gender—most notably his disparaging comments about Rosalind Franklin and his public endorsement of genetic determinism—drew widespread condemnation. In his memoir, Watson wrote of Franklin: “I suspect that in the beginning Maurice [Wilkins] hoped that Rosy would calm down. Yet mere inspection suggested that she would not easily bend. By choice, she did not emphasize her feminine qualities... Clearly, Rosy had to go or be put in her place.”
His views extended beyond the scientific sphere. In 2000, Watson was quoted as saying, “Whenever you interview fat people, you feel bad, because you know you’re not going to hire them.” He advocated for genetic screening and engineering, once suggesting, “People say it would be terrible if we made all girls pretty. I think it would be great.” Such statements, as The Print and The New York Times both emphasize, provoked outrage and led to tangible consequences.
Watson’s public support for the controversial book The Bell Curve—which argued for genetic differences in IQ between races—further fueled the backlash. According to The New York Times, Watson’s embrace of genetic determinism intensified after the year 2000, despite growing criticism. “We used to think our fate was in our stars. Now we know, in large measure, our fate is in our genes,” Watson once declared, reflecting a worldview that, while influential in genetics, proved deeply problematic when applied to complex social issues.
The consequences were severe. After making remarks linking race and intelligence in 2007, Watson was stripped of all administrative roles at CSHL and removed as a trustee. When he repeated similar statements in 2019, the laboratory revoked his Emeritus status and severed all ties. The fallout extended further: Watson lost positions on company boards, his academic income dwindled, and he was forced to cancel public appearances. In 2014, feeling ostracized, he auctioned his Nobel medal and related memorabilia, donating the proceeds to scientific research in an attempt at redemption.
Despite the controversies, Watson’s scientific contributions remain undeniable. As Nobel laureate Venki Ramakrishnan observed, few have had as much impact on contemporary molecular biology and genetics. Watson’s advocacy for open science, his role in the Human Genome Project, and his mentorship of generations of researchers—including pioneering women—are lasting legacies. Yet, as both The Print and The New York Times point out, his story is also a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked bias and the ethical responsibilities of scientists.
Watson’s life, in many ways, encapsulates the duality of scientific genius: the capacity for transformative discovery paired with the all-too-human flaws that can undermine a legacy. His work revolutionized our understanding of life itself, but his personal views serve as a sobering reminder that science is conducted by individuals shaped by their own prejudices and the times in which they live. As the world reflects on Watson’s passing, the enduring lesson is clear—brilliance and bias can coexist, but only one should shape the future of science.
