A New Chapter At FreakTakes
An applied research shop becomes a bit more applied
I’ve always viewed FreakTakes as a small applied research shop. Discontented geniuses set out to run new science orgs or ambitious scientific philanthropies; I produce pieces that help some of them make decisions that determine parts of how to structure their orgs. I can’t do what they do — I wish I could. They do not have the time to look into the minutiae of the R&D operations from history that inspire their work. So, the task of researching topics like how Bell Labs chose research questions, how the Rockefeller Foundation helped fund the field of molecular biology into existence, and the vital role of BBN-model R&D orgs (BBNs) in ARPA history falls to me.
Before starting FreakTakes, I did not know whether people like Tom Kalil, Adam Marblestone, or Patrick Collison would find anything I might write useful in their work. But I figured it was worth spending a few hundred hours of my time finding out. I already spent most of my spare time reading about 20th C. R&D history and the economics of innovation. So, in January 2022, I started FreakTakes. I’d write five pieces and see how things went. On a trial basis, I’d turn my obsession into a blog.
That was the best decision of my professional life. Over the past three years, the influence of the blog has steadily grown — at least with the small number of key individuals who I see as my target audience. The research quality has steadily improved as I’ve accrued experience. My “taste” regarding which questions are most useful to look into has drastically improved as I’ve gotten to meet with those who run new science orgs and fund ambitious R&D. The experiment has worked out far better than I hoped. The success of the experiment is, in no small part, a result of Stuart Buck making two separate bets on me — the first in April 2022 to bring me on as a part-time Fellow at the Good Science Project, and later that year bringing me on full-time. For that, I will forever be indebted to him.
This year marks a new chapter at FreakTakes. I’ll be joining Renaissance Philanthropy (RenPhil) full-time — while remaining a Fellow at the Good Science Project. Working with Tom Kalil, Kumar Garg, and the rest of the RenPhil team, I hope to translate the lessons of R&D history I’ve written about for three years into action.
My Role at RenPhil
At RenPhil, I’ll be ramping up the amount of time I spend as a do-er. While I’ll be spending time on all sorts of projects at RenPhil, the biggest one will be helping build and grow more BBNs — organizations like 1960s BBN or the early CMU autonomous vehicles group. R&D orgs like these — novelty-seeking, well-equipped to build useful technology for actual users, with more flexible team structures than academic labs — were the driving force behind many of early ARPA’s most exceptional projects. As the number of ARPA-inspired grant funders grows, the need for exceptional contractors like these will also grow.
Building a new BBN requires founders who are world-class researchers or engineers, have an ambitious technical vision, and have a strong sense of why the existing R&D ecosystem cannot pursue the vision. If that sounds like you or someone you know, please reach out. I’d like to help hone your idea and try to make it a reality. Building a new BBN also requires R&D funders with ambitious projects. So, I’m also eager to meet with R&D funders (philanthropies, ARPAs, etc.) to discuss projects they are eager to pursue, but for which they feel ideal contractors do not exist.
Operationally, I’ll also be helping RenPhil execute its ARIA work in the UK — and a variety of other activities. In terms of research, I will continue to produce my long operational histories of R&D. But some things will change.
What is changing?
As I step into this new role, I hope to expand the scope of the Substack a bit. FreakTakes will continue to primarily serve as the home for my operational histories of R&D orgs, but I hope to make FreakTakes into a Substack ambitious researchers and ARPA-like funders eagerly follow for information, talent, and opportunities related to their work. For pieces in this category, I’ll be creating a “RenPhil” tab to file the pieces under.
Some pieces that would fall into this category include:
Interviews with the founders of existing BBNs — describing the vision for their organization, their founding story, and upcoming projects.
Short pieces from ARPA-like philanthropists who would love to fund a certain kind of project, but for which the ideal contractor does not exist.
Proposals for BBNs in particular areas that, with the right founder and team, could tackle ambitious areas of R&D and have a generational impact on a field.
As I join RenPhil, there is one notable tradeoff for FreakTakes. As I spend more time on operational work, I’ll only be able to produce about one-third as many long (7,000+ words) operational histories. But there are two upsides regarding classic FreakTakes content:
For the operational histories that I do produce, I’ll be ideally placed to translate the learnings into action.
I will also write more FreakTakes Shorts — often around 2,500 words — reflecting on events from the history of R&D, sharing interesting excerpts from researchers’ memoirs, etc.
In general, FreakTakes will remain mostly the same. I love it too much to change it too much. The new pieces I produce in the RenPhil section will be pieces that allow the blog to translate ideas I encounter into real-world projects.
The Surprising Effectiveness of Blogging
Before moving on to my pithy conclusion, I’d like to take a moment to express my appreciation for this community. The open-mindedness and curiosity of the researchers and funders who make up the “new science” community made it possible for a (more or less) random guy in Chicago — who reads about the history of R&D instead of going to parties — to throw his hat in the ring and make something useful of his obsession. Given I have no credentials, none of you had to give my pieces a chance. The fact that so many of you did is a testament to your open-mindedness.
When I first started this blog, I dreamed that maybe someone at a place like the Arc Institute might find it interesting and help me get a job there — not even as a full-time researcher, just as a budget guy who got to do research assignments as they came up. Hoping for more than that felt unreasonable. But sometimes, if you work at it, unreasonable things happen. I was more grateful than words could express when Stuart Buck gave me the opportunity to be a researcher at his think tank. And I’m similarly grateful to have the opportunity to turn so many FreakTakes’ ideas into action at RenPhil. This blog has gone weirdly well, so far.
My Pithy Conclusion: Embracing Restlessness
For a very excitable person, I’ve settled into the life of a history researcher quite comfortably. The decision to reduce the amount of time I spend peacefully finding answers in old books is bittersweet, but not difficult. The reason the decision is easy, despite the pleasure I get from doing research, is probably due to the Midwesterner in me. Even with my passions, I always try to make them practical. I never hoped to become a writer. I began FreakTakes because I had practical goals; I choose what details to include in my pieces based on what would be useful to the CEO of an R&D org, not because I think most people want a 14,000-word piece on Warren Weaver’s work at the Rockefeller Foundation.
I hope I’ll have the excuse to become a full-time researcher again, at some point. But for now, it’s time to translate many of FreakTakes’ learnings into action at RenPhil. An excerpt from a 1954 Warren Weaver essay provides me with a fair bit of comfort in this decision. The excerpt comes in a chapter in which Weaver — the greatest scientific grant funder of all time, a fellow Midwesterner, and a good man — rails against those in the 1950s who sought peace of mind, first and foremost, in their spiritual endeavors. Weaver writes:
Peace of mind is not what I ask from religion. To pray for peace of mind appeals to me as a rather unpleasant insult to the God of the restless cell, of the blazing novae, of the swirling nebulae. The god, in short, of progress, not of stagnation.
...God pity me on the day when I have lost my restlessness! God forgive me on the day when I am satisfied! God rouse me up if ever I am so dull, insensitive, lazy, complacent, phlegmatic, and apathetic as to be at peace!12
I look forward to embracing this new chapter of professional restlessness. Please reach out to me if you’d like to found, fund, work at, or somehow help R&D orgs like the ones I’ve described in this piece. And if you have any ideas for me as I take this next step, I’m all ears!
Thanks for reading:)
I’ll be visiting both Cambridge, MA and London (and maybe SF) soon, so please reach out to grab some time while I’m visiting!
Please comment, email or DM me on Twitter me any ideas you think I should consider for the next chapter of FreakTakes (egillia3@alumni.stanford.edu or gilliam@renphil.org).
Notably, Weaver and his wife left what they felt was a nearly idyllic life in Madison, where Weaver was a math professor, to pursue his work at the Rockefeller foundation.
Excerpt from Weaver’s book Science and Imagination, Chapter 7, Peace of Mind and Other Semantic Problems