In 1973 National Geographic Magazine published a major article, promoted by a sensational cover story, announcing discovery of a group of exceptionally long-lived people from a remote region of the Caucaus Mountains in what was then the Soviet Union. One individual interviewed by the research team claimed to be 137 years old. The man who discovered this amazing cluster of longevity was Dr. Alexander Leaf, a professor at Harvard Medical School. His claims were first greeted with wide public interest. But in years to come, skepticism mounted about Dr. Leaf's purported "discovery." Finally, just as with later claims about desktop "cold fusion," experts concluded that Dr. Leaf had been fooled, as he publicly acknowledged. Even Harvard medical investigators, it seems, could fall prey to what medical historian Gerald Gruman called the "hyperborean" legend-- the belief that somewhere, somehow, a pristine people have mastered the secrets of long life and can teach them to us.

So have we become more sophisticated in the decades since Dr. Leaf was hoodwinked? The answer is sobering. The gap between what gerontologists know and what the public believes has never been wider. Whatever the scientific evidence, prolongevity is an idea that simply will not die (no matter how often actual human beings do). This fact is a good reason for celebrating the re-publication of a modern classic of gerontology, Gerald Gruman's, History of Ideas About the Prolongation of Life: The Evolution of Prolongevity Hypotheses to 1800, which is now being reissued by Springer Publishers. Gruman's book takes the story of prolongevity up the year 1800, a point where modern medical science was in its infancy and where geriatrics had hardly been imagined. In light of progress made in the past two centuries, perhaps it is understandable that his book is not better known among gerontologists. But the book should better known because the story Gruman tells is more than of merely antiquarian interest.

What is fascinating about the history narrated by Gruman is the intermingling of science and superstition, medicine and mysticism, repeated over generations in a ceaseless quest for longevity and immortality. This quest was never merely the province of cranks or quacks. On the contrary, one of the greatest religious traditions of humanity, Chinese Taoism, included prolongevity as a fundamental part of its agenda for a millennium or more. In the case of Taoism, we see the combination of rank charlatanism with sublime philosophy, the lure of wish-fulfillment combined with the pursuit of wisdom. This mixture was not confined to the East. Western philosophers, including founders of modern science like Bacon and Descartes, were profoundly convinced of the importance of prolongevity, as Gruman demonstrates.

Prolongevity today is a global phenomenon demanding cross-cultural as well as historical understanding. For example, today herbal remedies and Chinese medicine are high on any list of alternative and complementary therapies, popular not just in Beijing or Hong Kong, but in Los Angeles and New York. Chinese medicine now has global influence far beyond East Asian cultures. In some instances-- such as acupuncture for pain relief-- there is little doubt that powerful effects are possible, for reasons that are still unknown. In other cases, alternative remedies have not yet been subjected to critical empirical evaluation. Enthusiasm and anecdotal conviction replace rational assessment.

But lack of proof has not prevented the lay public from using exotic substances with the goal of life extension, in the same way that biochemical agents, including hormones, vitamins, and antioxidants, have become part of anti-aging practices. In the age of the Internet, self-care and selfhelp are driving forces that will shape health care in the 21st century. The history of prolongevity as narrated by Gruman could well become a cautionary tale for medicine in years to come.

History, including the history of medicine, remains open-ended, and here Gruman's work is also relevant. Old questions are constantly re-opened. Within recent memory, the scientific enterprise of gerontology has begun to look again at fundamental questions previously regarded as closed. For instance, is aging a "disease?" Is it realistic ever to imagine interventions to raise maximum human lifespan beyond 120 years? Is it desirable? We have known for at least sixty years that maximum lifespan in lower organisms is not a fixed constant as would hold true for the speed of light in physics. Caloric reduction has broken that maximum lifespan barrier in rodents and every other species in which it has been tried, probably even including primates, as recent data begin to suggest. A 30% reduction in caloric intake could raise maximum lifespan by 30%-- comparable to a human lifespan of 150 years.

The mechanism by which caloric reduction works is uncertain. But the empirical fact must give us pause. Just as nuclear physics in the 20th century fulfilled the dream of alchemists to transmutate elements, so studies in biogerontology could in the future alter our ideas about the limits of aging. It is at this moment, in the opening decade of the 21st century, that Gruman's masterpiece appears in print again. We live at a moment in history when freedom and the marketplace have triumphed around the globe as principles for organizing human affairs. At the same time, among Western elites, religious ideas have lost much of their power. Even the Enlightenment dream of progress has been tarnished by events of the 20th century, including the ambiguous results of science and technology.

Yet the search for life extension ("prolongevity") still represents the last bastion of progress and optimism. This hope will not quickly die. The mixture of science and superstition that surrounds this whole subject cries out for clarity. For believers in reason, then, we need to understand better the persistence of utopian thinking in human affairs, in medicine as much as in politics. The intertwining of prolongevity ideas with powerful currents of philosophy, religion, and science itself should give us pause. As both the genuine science of biogerontology and promoters of antiaging medicine increasingly clamor for our attention in the years ahead, it will be wise to pause and the ponder the long history of the idea of prolongevity-- and what it may mean for our common future.

Harry (Rick) Moody,
Senior Associate, International Longevity Center-USA

Author's Note: This article is an expanded version of a preface that appears with the new issue of Gruman's Prolongevity book by Springer Publishers. For more information about the book, contact them at: www.springerpub.com