Why me, O Lord, why me?
One of the more recent books sent to me is Thank God for Evolution!: How the Marriage of Science and Religion Will Transform Your Life and Our World(amzn/b&n/abe/pwll) by Michael Dowd. I have read it, and I’m feeling biblical.
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?
Psalm 22:1
If you’ve been reading that fascinating graphic novel, Y: The Last Man(amzn/b&n/abe/pwll), you know the premise: a mysterious disease has swept over the planet and bloodily killed every male mammal except two, a human named Yorick and a monkey named Ampersand. Substantial parts of it are biologically nearly impossible: the wide cross-species susceptibility, the near instantaneous lethality, and the simultaneity of its effect everywhere (there are also all kinds of weird correlations with other sort of magical putative causes, which may be red herrings). On the other hand, the sociological part of the story seems very plausible. There is no feminist utopia, the world goes on in a traumatized and rather complicated way, and the reactions everywhere vary from crazed euphoria to a more common despair. One thing that isn’t at all implausible, and actually has been observed, is a plague that selectively exterminates males.
(hat tip to Branch of the NCSE)
Sometimes, I confess, this whole common descent thing gets in the way and is really annoying. What we’ve learned over the years is that the evolution of life on earth is constrained by historical factors at every turn; every animal bears this wonderfully powerful toolbox of common developmental genes, inherited from pre-Cambrian ancestors, and it’s getting rather predictable that every time you open up some fundamental aspect of developmental pattern formation in a zebrafish, for instance, it is a modified echo of something we also see in a fruit fly. Sometimes you just want to see what evolution would do with a completely different starting point — if you could, as SJ Gould suggested, rewind the tape of life and let it play forward again, and see what novelties arose.
Take the worm. We take the generic worm for granted in biology: it’s a bilaterally symmetric muscular tube with a hydrostatic skeleton which propels itself through a medium with sinuous undulations, and with most of its sense organs concentrated in the forward end. The last common ancestor of all bilaterian animals was a worm, and we can see that ancestry in the organization of most animals today, even when it is obscured by odd little geegaws, like limbs and armor and regional specializations and various dangly spiky jointed bits. You’ll even see the argument made that that worm is the best of all possible simple forms, so it isn’t just an accident of history, it’s a morphological optimum.
But what if we could rewind the tape of life a little bit, to the first worms? Is it possible there are other ways such an animal could have been built? It seems nature may have carried out this little experiment for us, and we have an example of a reinvented worm, one not constructed by common descent from that initial triumphal exemplar in the pre-Cambrian — an alternative worm.
This is a nice, short summary of some of the explanations for the evolution of homosexuality. It could be shorter; there are really just two classes of explanation, the adaptationist strategy of trying to find a necessary enhancement to fitness, and the correct strategy of recognizing that not all attributes of an individual organism are going to be optimal for that individual’s reproduction, so don’t even try. Love isn’t hardwired by biology, and it can go in all kinds of different directions.
So I’m saying the best answer in the list is #5. I wouldn’t be biased by the fact that the author is quoting me, no, not at all.
We now have a draft of the sea anemone genome, and it is revealing tantalizing details of metazoan evolution. The subject is the starlet anemone, Nematostella vectensis, a beautiful little animal that is also an up-and-coming star of developmental biology research.
A most important reason for this work is that the anemone Nematostella is a distant relative of many of the animals that have already been sequenced, and so provides an essential perspective on the evolutionary changes that we observe in those other organisms. Comparison of its genome with that of other metazoans is helping us decipher the likely genetic organization of the last common ancestor of all animals.
What properties should we expect from an evolved system rather than a designed one? Complexity is one, another is surprises. We should see features that baffle us and that don’t make sense from a simply functional and logical standpoint.
That’s also exactly what we see in systems designed by processes of artificial evolution. Adrian Thompson used randomized binary data on Field-Programmable Gate Arrays, followed by selection for FPGAs that could recognize tones input into them. After several thousand generations, he had FPGAs that would discriminate between two tones, or respond to the words “stop” and “go”, by producing 0 or 5 volts. Then came the fun part: trying to figure out how the best performing chip worked:
Dr. Thompson peered inside his perfect offspring to gain insight into its methods, but what he found inside was baffling. The plucky chip was utilizing only thirty-seven of its one hundred logic gates, and most of them were arranged in a curious collection of feedback loops. Five individual logic cells were functionally disconnected from the rest — with no pathways that would allow them to influence the output — yet when the researcher disabled any one of them the chip lost its ability to discriminate the tones. Furthermore, the final program did not work reliably when it was loaded onto other FPGAs of the same type.
That looks a lot like what we see in developmental networks in living organisms — unpredictable results when pieces are “disconnected”, or mutated, lots and lots of odd feedback loops everywhere, and sensitivity to specific conditions (although we also see selection for fidelity from generation to generation, more so than occurred in this exercise, I think). This is exactly what evolution does, producing a functional complexity from random input.
I suppose it’s possible, though, that Michael Behe’s God also tinkers with electronics as a hobby, and applied his ineffably l33t hacks to the chips when Thompson wasn’t looking.
The NY Times has pulled out all the stops today and has dedicated their entire science section to the subject of evolution. They’ve got pieces by some of the best science journalists around, like Carl Zimmer, Cornelia Dean (although in this case, it’s a lot of nattering on about how the soul fits into evolution—not recommended), and Natalie Angier, and they’ve also drafted a few scientists. There’s a video of Sean Carroll summarizing evo-devo, and perhaps the most interesting article of them all is by Douglas Erwin, in which he speculates about whether the new ideas percolating throughout the science community (especially by those noisy developmental biologists) are precursors to a new revolution in our thinking about evolution. He’s non-committal so far, which is fair.
Does all this add up to a new modern synthesis? There is certainly no consensus among evolutionary biologists, but development, ecology, genetics and paleontology all provide new perspectives on how evolution operates, and how we should study it. None of these concerns provide a scintilla of hope for creationists, as scientific investigations are already providing new insights into these issues. The foundations for a paradigm shift may be in place, but it may be some time before we see whether a truly novel perspective develops or these tensions are accommodated within an expanded modern synthesis.
Or both! I expect that what will happen is that the deficiencies in the neo-Darwinian synthesis (which lacks any explanation for the evolution of form and pattern, for instance) will be gradually filled in with clear linkages to the evolution of genes, and despite the fact that it will be a bigger, bolder, stronger synthesis, everyone will say we knew it all along anyway. There will not be a threshold moment where everyone says “Wow! I am suddenly enlightened!” — there will just come a time when everyone acknowledges that all those papers from 40 years ago were pretty darned important, after all.
Jason Rosenhouse has dug into the details of the evo-devo chapter of Behe’s The Edge of Evolution and found some clear examples of dishonest quote-mining (so what else is new, you may be thinking—it’s what creationists do). I’ve warned you all before that when you see an ellipsis in a creationist quote, you ought to just assume that there’s been something cut out that completely contradicts the point the creationist is making; Rosenhouse finds that Behe gets around that little red-flag problem by simply leaving out the ellipses.
I just want to expand a little bit on one point Behe mangles and that Jason quotes. It turns out I actually give a lecture in my developmental biology courses on this very issue, the mathematical modeling antecedents to insect segmentation, so it’s simply weird to see Behe twisting a subject around that is so well understood in the evo-devo community, and that was actually well explained in Sean Carroll’s Endless Forms Most Beautiful.
This site has its heart in the right place, but it’s more for theistic evolutionists than my kind—all the bowing and scraping to a creator god leaves me cold (especially since it seems to substitute hearty encouragement and reconciliation over actually discussing the evidence). But if that doesn’t bother you, take a look at The Epic of Evolution. It’ll probably make somebody happy.
