Last Sunday’s New York Times magazine was devoted to illuminating altruism in its many contemporary forms. All the evidence presented in the Times’ articles supported the conclusion that the charitable spirit is still alive and well in our self-absorbed, greed-besotted society. Our deeper, more caring instincts have not been extinguished by our acquisitive culture.
And yet, in evolutionary terms human altruism remains a puzzle. In our willingness to sacrifice sometimes even our lives for our fellows, we resemble army ants, honey bees and a small number of other communal living species. How come?
In the lead-in article for the Times’ special issue, writer Jim Holt pondered this question and trotted out the reasoning of modern evolutionary psychology. Unfortunately, mainstream evolutionary psychologists are still dogmatically devoted to neo-Darwinism and the “selfish gene” paradigm, so their proposed explanation for human altruism is constricted and unconvincing. Neo-Darwinists recognize only sacrifices for close relatives (“kin selection”) and tit-for-tat reciprocities (“reciprocal altruism”), and maybe some social concern for one’s reputation and standing in the community. How the latter trait evolved is unclear and none of these supposed “mechanisms” can account for the soldiers who volunteer to die for their country or, for that matter, the suicide bombers who sacrifice their lives to kill “infidels.”
What’s missing from the evolutionary psychologists’ conventional wisdom is a perfectly logical explanation that is still taboo in some quarters – group selection. The reason is that evolutionary theorists have traditionally viewed the group selection hypothesis in a very restrictive way, so that it appears on its face to be very unlikely.
Without venturing too far into this theoretical thicket, suffice it to say that, for the most part, the issue of group selection has been debated without reference to the likely context in which humankind evolved. The accumulating evidence suggests that our ancestors evolved over several million years in small, closely cooperating groups of both kin and non-kin that formed interdependent “survival units.” They mostly inhabited highly dangerous and changeable environments where they were often in direct competition not only with other groups of their own kind but with an array of other group-living, pack-hunting predators – wild dogs, hyenas, lions and many others that are now extinct. So our ancestral hominid groups were not just abstract “gene pools” but multi-purpose survival units – “superorganisms” in the sociobiologists’ parlance. They collaborated most importantly in group defense against various threats, as well as in foraging, migrations, and in other ways, and the genes they were protecting and promoting were their own and those of their offspring, as well as close kin and some non-kin. Sacrifices for the good of the group could directly improve an altruist's fitness, because his/her offspring depended on the group. And the groups that were the most effective in promoting the interests of their groups (and minimizing cheating and “free-riders”) were differentially “selected”, as Darwin himself proposed in The Descent of Man.
An analogy can be found in each of our ten trillion or so cells. We now know that modern, eukaryotic (nucleated) cells are the product of a partnership that was formed between ancient bacterial ancestors of our mitochondria (the “energy factories” in each of our cells) and early one-celled protists. Over time, the partners became completely interdependent. They have a “shared fate.” And so, ultimately, do we and our progeny.
Thought for the day: There’s a good reason why, as the old saying goes, “it’s the squeaky wheel that gets the grease.” It’s not a matter of charity but a recognition that we depend on that wheel.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Electric Universe? Mea Culpa
Like most other non-physicists in the scientific community, I have always assumed that the evidence for the Big Bang, black holes, dark energy, and the like was rock-solid, and I even promoted this cosmology in one of my recent books. Alas! Now I am convinced that modern astrophysics is a pseudo-science with overtones of a religious dogma that fabricates stories to prop up its reigning deity and treats contradictory evidence as a heresy.
These are strong words, I know, but they are well supported in a mind-opening, paradigm shattering book called The Electric Sky by the emeritus electrical engineer (University of Massachusetts) cum astronomer, Donald E. Scott. Our mainstream view of the cosmos has been shaped by an interpretation of the red shift phenomenon that is demonstrably wrong, by a misplaced reliance on gravity as the primary shaping force in the universe, and by plugging up the serious deficiencies in this model with imaginary (unverifiable) theories about black holes, dark matter, dark energy, and other creations.
Meanwhile, compelling evidence that electric plasmas, electromagnetic forces, ubiquitous electric current “filaments” and related phenomena represent a vastly greater cosmic influence and account for 99% of the matter/energy in the universe has been rejected with thinly veiled hostility. Consider this simple household experiment: It takes only a small toy magnet to induce a gravity-defying leap by, say, a nail or a ball bearing. Electromagnetism is vastly more powerful than gravity, and it can be used in a plasma laboratory to simulate such cosmic phenomena as galaxies without recourse to mysterious, unseen shaping influences. We can see evidence of these cosmic plasmas in our own ionosphere and in the brilliant auroras that can light up the night sky. We can see them also in our solar corona and the misnamed “solar wind.” And we can see them shaping whole galaxies, like our Milky Way.
Nevertheless, modern astrophysicists are in denial and posit a plethora of ever more fanciful hypothetical entities – WIMPS, MACHOS, MOND, SIDM, SADM, FDM and so on – to mask the inherent deficiencies of a gravitation-only universe. Of course, a lot is at stake for the astrophysics cult. Emperors do not like to be unclothed. But more important, they are on the wrong side of a scientific revolution the like of which we have not seen since Copernicus and Galileo. It seems clear that the Big Bang never happened, that there are no black holes, dark energy, dark matter, MACHOS, or any other invisible and unverifiable mysteries. Moreover, it seems that our sun is not a gravity-driven thermonuclear reactor but a plasma pinch-driven generator. Even Einstein has been knocked off his pedestal. No wonder the astrophysicists “do not go gentle into that good night” (to borrow a famous line from poet Dylan Thomas). But don’t take my word for all this. Read Donald Scott’s book (including the open letter now signed by more than 400 scientists), or go online and visit the website of the distinguished electrical engineer Anthony Peratt (http://plasmauniverse.info) or read his book, Physics of the Plasma Universe.
As I said, Mea Culpa.
Thought for the Day: Scott characterizes mainstream cosmology with the acronym: Fabricated Ad hoc Inventions Repeatedly Invoked in Efforts to Defend Untenable Scientific Theories (FAIRIE DUST). It is also a classic case of what can be called mathematical mysticism, an affliction that can be traced back to one of the founders of Western science, Pythagoras of Samos and his Pythagorean Brotherhood. It involves a conviction that the mathematical properties that can be found in the natural world are the underlying reality; if it’s logically tight it must be true. However, the map is not the territory, to quote a famous iconoclast, Alfred Korzybski.
These are strong words, I know, but they are well supported in a mind-opening, paradigm shattering book called The Electric Sky by the emeritus electrical engineer (University of Massachusetts) cum astronomer, Donald E. Scott. Our mainstream view of the cosmos has been shaped by an interpretation of the red shift phenomenon that is demonstrably wrong, by a misplaced reliance on gravity as the primary shaping force in the universe, and by plugging up the serious deficiencies in this model with imaginary (unverifiable) theories about black holes, dark matter, dark energy, and other creations.
Meanwhile, compelling evidence that electric plasmas, electromagnetic forces, ubiquitous electric current “filaments” and related phenomena represent a vastly greater cosmic influence and account for 99% of the matter/energy in the universe has been rejected with thinly veiled hostility. Consider this simple household experiment: It takes only a small toy magnet to induce a gravity-defying leap by, say, a nail or a ball bearing. Electromagnetism is vastly more powerful than gravity, and it can be used in a plasma laboratory to simulate such cosmic phenomena as galaxies without recourse to mysterious, unseen shaping influences. We can see evidence of these cosmic plasmas in our own ionosphere and in the brilliant auroras that can light up the night sky. We can see them also in our solar corona and the misnamed “solar wind.” And we can see them shaping whole galaxies, like our Milky Way.
Nevertheless, modern astrophysicists are in denial and posit a plethora of ever more fanciful hypothetical entities – WIMPS, MACHOS, MOND, SIDM, SADM, FDM and so on – to mask the inherent deficiencies of a gravitation-only universe. Of course, a lot is at stake for the astrophysics cult. Emperors do not like to be unclothed. But more important, they are on the wrong side of a scientific revolution the like of which we have not seen since Copernicus and Galileo. It seems clear that the Big Bang never happened, that there are no black holes, dark energy, dark matter, MACHOS, or any other invisible and unverifiable mysteries. Moreover, it seems that our sun is not a gravity-driven thermonuclear reactor but a plasma pinch-driven generator. Even Einstein has been knocked off his pedestal. No wonder the astrophysicists “do not go gentle into that good night” (to borrow a famous line from poet Dylan Thomas). But don’t take my word for all this. Read Donald Scott’s book (including the open letter now signed by more than 400 scientists), or go online and visit the website of the distinguished electrical engineer Anthony Peratt (http://plasmauniverse.info) or read his book, Physics of the Plasma Universe.
As I said, Mea Culpa.
Thought for the Day: Scott characterizes mainstream cosmology with the acronym: Fabricated Ad hoc Inventions Repeatedly Invoked in Efforts to Defend Untenable Scientific Theories (FAIRIE DUST). It is also a classic case of what can be called mathematical mysticism, an affliction that can be traced back to one of the founders of Western science, Pythagoras of Samos and his Pythagorean Brotherhood. It involves a conviction that the mathematical properties that can be found in the natural world are the underlying reality; if it’s logically tight it must be true. However, the map is not the territory, to quote a famous iconoclast, Alfred Korzybski.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Complexity is Just a Word!
What is complexity, asks author-journalist George Johnson in the science section of The New York Times a few years back? Below the headline, "Researchers on Complexity Ponder What It's All About," Johnson reports that there is still no agreed-upon definition, much less a theoretically-rigorous formalization, despite the fact that complexity is currently a "hot" research topic. Many books and innumerable scholarly papers have been published on the subject in the past few years, and there is even a journal, Complexity, devoted to this nascent science. Johnson quotes Dan Stein, chairman of the physics department at the University of Arizona: "Everybody talks about it. [But] in the absence of a good definition, complexity is pretty much in the eye of the beholder."
This is not to say that the researchers in this area have not been trying to define it. In the 1970s, Gregory Chaitin and Alexei Kolmogorov (independently) pioneered a mathematical measuring-rod that Chaitin called "algorithmic complexity" -- that is, the length of the shortest "recipe" for the complete reproduction of a mathematical treatment. The problem with this definition, as Chaitin concedes, is that random sequences are invariably more complex because in each case the recipe is as long as the whole thing being specified; it cannot be "compressed".
More recently, Charles Bennett has focused on the concept of "logical depth" -- the computational requirements for converting a recipe into a finished product. Though useful, it seems to be limited to processes in which there is a logical structure of some sort. It would seem to exclude the "booming, buzzing confusion" of the real world, where the internal logic may be problematical or only partially knowable -- say the immense number of context-specific chaotic interactions that are responsible for producing global weather "patterns", or the imponderable forces that will determine the future course of the evolutionary process itself.
A number of researchers, especially some of those who are associated with the Santa Fe Institute, believe that the key lies in the so-called "phase transitions" between highly ordered and highly disordered physical systems. An often-cited analogy is water, whose complex physical properties lie between the highly ordered state of ice crystals and the highly disordered movements of steam molecules. While the "Santa Fe Paradigm" may be useful, it also sets strict limits on what can be termed "complex". For instance, it seems to exclude the extremes associated with highly ordered or strictly random phenomena, even though there can be more or less complex patterns of order and more or less complex forms of disorder -- degrees of complexity that are not associated with phase transitions. (Indeed, random phenomena seem to be excluded by fiat from some definitions of complexity.)
To confuse matters further, a distinction must be made between what could be labeled "objective complexity" -- the "embedded" properties of a physical phenomenon and "subjective complexity" -- its "meaning" to a human observer. As Timothy Perper has observed (on-line communication), the equation w = f(z) is structurally simple, but it might have a universe of meaning depending upon how its terms are defined. Indeed, information theory is notorious for its reliance on quantitative, statistical measures and its blindness to meaning -- where much can be made of very few words. The telephone directory for a large metropolitan area contains many more words than a Shakespeare play, but is it more complex? Furthermore, as Elisabet Sahtouris has pointed out (on-line communication), the degree of complexity that we might impute to a phenomenon can depend upon our frame of reference for viewing it. If we adopt a broad, "ecological" perspective we will see many more factors, and relationships, at work than if we adopt a "physiological" perspective. When Howard Bloom (on-line communication) quotes the line "To see the World in a Grain of Sand..." from William Blake's famous poem, "Auguries of Innocence", it reminds us that even a simple object can denote a vast pattern of relationships, if we choose to see it that way. Accordingly, subjective complexity is a highly variable property of the phenomenal world.
Perhaps we need to go back to the semantic drawing-board. Complexity is, after all, a word -- a verbal construct, a mental image. Like the words "electron" or "snow" or "blue" or "tree", complexity is a shorthand tool for thinking and communicating about various aspects of the phenomenal world. Some words may be very narrow in scope. (Presumably all electrons are alike in their basic properties, although their behavior can vary greatly.) However, many other words may hold a potful of meaning. We often use the word "snow" in conversation without taking the trouble to differentiate among the many different kinds of snow, as serious skiers (and Inuit Eskimos) routinely do. Similarly, the English word "blue" refers to a broad band of hues in the color spectrum, and we must drape the word with various qualifiers, from navy blue to royal blue to robin's egg blue (and many more), to denote the subtle differences among them. So it is also, I believe, with the word "complexity"; it is used in many different ways and encompasses a great variety of phenomena. (Indeed, it seems that many theorists, to suit their own purposes, prefer not to define complexity too precisely.)
The "utility" of any word, whether broad or narrow in scope, is always a function of how much information it imparts to the user(s). Take the word "tree", for example. It tells you about certain fundamental properties that all trees have in common. But it does not tell you whether or not a given tree is deciduous, whether it is tall or short, or even whether it is living or dead. The same shortcoming applies also to the concept of "complexity". Although there may be some commonalities between a complex personality, a complex wine, a complex piece of music and a complex machine, the similarities are not obvious. Each is complex in a different way, and their complexities cannot be reduced to an all-purpose algorithm. Moreover, the differences among them are at least as important as any common properties.
What in fact does the word "complexity" connote. One of the leaders in the complexity field, Seth Lloyd of MIT, took the trouble to compile a list of some three dozen different ways in which the term is used in scientific discourse. Yet this exercise produced no blinding insight. When asked to define complexity, Lloyd told Johnson: "I can't define it for you, but I know it when I see it."
Rather than trying to define what complexity is, perhaps it would be more useful to identify the properties that are commonly associated with the term. I would suggest that complexity often (not always) implies the following attributes: (1) a complex phenomenon consists of many parts (or items, or units, or individuals); (2) there are many relationships/interactions among the parts; and (3) the parts produce combined effects (synergies) that are not easily predicted and may often be novel, unexpected, even surprising.
At the risk of inviting the wrath of the researchers in this field, I would argue that complexity per se is one of the less interesting properties of complex phenomena. The differences, and the unique combined properties (synergies) that arise in each case, are vastly more important than the commonalities. If someone does develop a grand, unifying definition-description of complexity, I predict that it will add very little to the tree of knowledge (pardon the pun). But that shouldn't deter us from trying; the very effort to do so will surely enrich our understanding.
Thought for the day: Complexity is a qualitative property that we apply to both apples and oranges -- to borrow a cliché. They are both fruits and grow on trees but also differ from each other in important ways. Despite the many fruitless attempts (pardon the pun) to develop a general definition for the term, perhaps its only universal trait is that it taxes the human mind.
This is not to say that the researchers in this area have not been trying to define it. In the 1970s, Gregory Chaitin and Alexei Kolmogorov (independently) pioneered a mathematical measuring-rod that Chaitin called "algorithmic complexity" -- that is, the length of the shortest "recipe" for the complete reproduction of a mathematical treatment. The problem with this definition, as Chaitin concedes, is that random sequences are invariably more complex because in each case the recipe is as long as the whole thing being specified; it cannot be "compressed".
More recently, Charles Bennett has focused on the concept of "logical depth" -- the computational requirements for converting a recipe into a finished product. Though useful, it seems to be limited to processes in which there is a logical structure of some sort. It would seem to exclude the "booming, buzzing confusion" of the real world, where the internal logic may be problematical or only partially knowable -- say the immense number of context-specific chaotic interactions that are responsible for producing global weather "patterns", or the imponderable forces that will determine the future course of the evolutionary process itself.
A number of researchers, especially some of those who are associated with the Santa Fe Institute, believe that the key lies in the so-called "phase transitions" between highly ordered and highly disordered physical systems. An often-cited analogy is water, whose complex physical properties lie between the highly ordered state of ice crystals and the highly disordered movements of steam molecules. While the "Santa Fe Paradigm" may be useful, it also sets strict limits on what can be termed "complex". For instance, it seems to exclude the extremes associated with highly ordered or strictly random phenomena, even though there can be more or less complex patterns of order and more or less complex forms of disorder -- degrees of complexity that are not associated with phase transitions. (Indeed, random phenomena seem to be excluded by fiat from some definitions of complexity.)
To confuse matters further, a distinction must be made between what could be labeled "objective complexity" -- the "embedded" properties of a physical phenomenon and "subjective complexity" -- its "meaning" to a human observer. As Timothy Perper has observed (on-line communication), the equation w = f(z) is structurally simple, but it might have a universe of meaning depending upon how its terms are defined. Indeed, information theory is notorious for its reliance on quantitative, statistical measures and its blindness to meaning -- where much can be made of very few words. The telephone directory for a large metropolitan area contains many more words than a Shakespeare play, but is it more complex? Furthermore, as Elisabet Sahtouris has pointed out (on-line communication), the degree of complexity that we might impute to a phenomenon can depend upon our frame of reference for viewing it. If we adopt a broad, "ecological" perspective we will see many more factors, and relationships, at work than if we adopt a "physiological" perspective. When Howard Bloom (on-line communication) quotes the line "To see the World in a Grain of Sand..." from William Blake's famous poem, "Auguries of Innocence", it reminds us that even a simple object can denote a vast pattern of relationships, if we choose to see it that way. Accordingly, subjective complexity is a highly variable property of the phenomenal world.
Perhaps we need to go back to the semantic drawing-board. Complexity is, after all, a word -- a verbal construct, a mental image. Like the words "electron" or "snow" or "blue" or "tree", complexity is a shorthand tool for thinking and communicating about various aspects of the phenomenal world. Some words may be very narrow in scope. (Presumably all electrons are alike in their basic properties, although their behavior can vary greatly.) However, many other words may hold a potful of meaning. We often use the word "snow" in conversation without taking the trouble to differentiate among the many different kinds of snow, as serious skiers (and Inuit Eskimos) routinely do. Similarly, the English word "blue" refers to a broad band of hues in the color spectrum, and we must drape the word with various qualifiers, from navy blue to royal blue to robin's egg blue (and many more), to denote the subtle differences among them. So it is also, I believe, with the word "complexity"; it is used in many different ways and encompasses a great variety of phenomena. (Indeed, it seems that many theorists, to suit their own purposes, prefer not to define complexity too precisely.)
The "utility" of any word, whether broad or narrow in scope, is always a function of how much information it imparts to the user(s). Take the word "tree", for example. It tells you about certain fundamental properties that all trees have in common. But it does not tell you whether or not a given tree is deciduous, whether it is tall or short, or even whether it is living or dead. The same shortcoming applies also to the concept of "complexity". Although there may be some commonalities between a complex personality, a complex wine, a complex piece of music and a complex machine, the similarities are not obvious. Each is complex in a different way, and their complexities cannot be reduced to an all-purpose algorithm. Moreover, the differences among them are at least as important as any common properties.
What in fact does the word "complexity" connote. One of the leaders in the complexity field, Seth Lloyd of MIT, took the trouble to compile a list of some three dozen different ways in which the term is used in scientific discourse. Yet this exercise produced no blinding insight. When asked to define complexity, Lloyd told Johnson: "I can't define it for you, but I know it when I see it."
Rather than trying to define what complexity is, perhaps it would be more useful to identify the properties that are commonly associated with the term. I would suggest that complexity often (not always) implies the following attributes: (1) a complex phenomenon consists of many parts (or items, or units, or individuals); (2) there are many relationships/interactions among the parts; and (3) the parts produce combined effects (synergies) that are not easily predicted and may often be novel, unexpected, even surprising.
At the risk of inviting the wrath of the researchers in this field, I would argue that complexity per se is one of the less interesting properties of complex phenomena. The differences, and the unique combined properties (synergies) that arise in each case, are vastly more important than the commonalities. If someone does develop a grand, unifying definition-description of complexity, I predict that it will add very little to the tree of knowledge (pardon the pun). But that shouldn't deter us from trying; the very effort to do so will surely enrich our understanding.
Thought for the day: Complexity is a qualitative property that we apply to both apples and oranges -- to borrow a cliché. They are both fruits and grow on trees but also differ from each other in important ways. Despite the many fruitless attempts (pardon the pun) to develop a general definition for the term, perhaps its only universal trait is that it taxes the human mind.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
What is Natural Selection?
The truth is there are a variety of definitions out there in the mountainous literature on evolution, and there is no consensus, even among biologists, about how Darwin’s central concept should be defined. One reason is that natural selection does not refer to a thing, or a discrete “mechanism.” It’s really a metaphor – what I call an “umbrella category” – that directs our attention to a fundamental aspect of the history of life on Earth.
Given the misunderstandings that are evident in various writings about evolution, it’s worth re-stating Darwin’s basic idea. In a nutshell, he posited that the history of life on Earth has involved a very long, trans-generational process characterized by both continuities and “progressive” (and sometimes regressive) functional developments over time. Moreover, both the continuities and the changes that have occurred in the course of evolution have been the ultimate result of a causal dynamic that is internal to the process itself. It was not imposed from outside.
In essence, this causal dynamic is a process in which the outcomes (in terms of survival and reproduction) in each generation of living organisms are determined in situ by the functional relationships and interactions that occur between organisms and their specific environments. Both the organism and its environment are important players in this dynamic, and it is absolutely wrong to say that inanimate environments do any “selecting”. Even as a metaphor, this is misleading. Likewise, it is onerous to say that something is “selected for.” It implies premeditation.
Darwin characterized this dynamic as “natural selection,” but he well understood (despite his sometimes flagrant rhetoric) that natural selection is not a concrete mechanism, and it does not actually do anything. In fact, it was based on an analogy with artificial selection by animal breeders. Nor did he claim that natural selection was the exclusive agency of evolutionary change; he was well aware of the complexities.
A crucial point about Darwin’s theory, which is often overlooked by his critics, is that it rests on the fundamental assumption that life is a contingent and often precarious process (a “struggle for existence” as Darwin put it) and that “earning a living” (and reproducing) in the “economy of nature” is the basic vocation for all life forms. In other words, in evolution there is no free lunch.
Given this premise, and given the well-documented fact that living systems can vary greatly in their functional capabilities – their ability to earn a living in a given environment – it follows that there will be differential success in surviving and reproducing. So natural selection refers to the survival/reproduction outcomes in each generation, including both the continuities and the changes -- the weeding in as well as the weeding out. (I’m partial to biologist Theodosius Dobzhansky’s distinction between “normalizing” or stabilizing selection, positive selection, and negative selection.) Darwin also adopted the Malthusian assumption of relentless population growth, which greatly intensifies competition for the means of subsistence, but this assumption is not essential to the theory and is not always the case in nature.
So why is there no “standard definition” of natural selection. In part, no doubt, the very subtlety of the idea challenges our efforts to provide a simple one-sentence definition. But partly too, I suspect the differences reflect varying degrees of bias among those who are strongly pro-natural selection and those who would wish to minimize or even reject Darwin’s theory. The pro-Darwinians often speak about natural selection as if it were an active, even omnipotent selecting agency. Thus, paleontologist George Gaylord Simpson asserted that "The mechanism of adaptation is natural selection....[It] usually operates in favor of maintained or increased adaptation to a given way of life." Similarly, biologist Ernst Mayr informed us that "Natural selection does its best to favor the production of programs guaranteeing behavior that increases fitness." And, in his discipline-defining volume Sociobiology, Edward O. Wilson assured us that "natural selection is the agent that molds virtually all of the characters of species."
On the other side of the fence are anti-Darwinian theorists like biologist Robert Reid, in his book Biological Emergences, who claims that natural selection is “irrelevant” to the explanation of complexity in the natural world. Evolution is an internally-driven, “emergent” process, he tells us, and natural selection is mostly “obstructionist”. At best it may play a minor, “fine-tuning” and “stabilizing” role by “weeding out” unfit variants. Likewise, biologist Lynn Margulis and her son and co-author, Dorion Sagan, while not hostile to natural selection, nevertheless downplay its role in making their case for “symbiogenesis” as a creative agency in evolution. In their book, Acquiring Genomes, they speak of natural selection as “a strictly subtractive process.”
In other words, some theorists see natural selection as the “creator” while others see it as the “executioner”. It’s analogous to a situation in which two critics, viewing an old-fashioned black and white photograph, get into an argument about the role of the negative. One critic asserts that, since the paper used for the print is white to begin with, only the black portions can be attributed to the influence of the negative. On the contrary, the other critic argues, the negative is only responsible for the white portion of the print, since that is where the negative acted to block the developer light from passing through to darken the print. In fact, the negative controls both the light and dark portions of the print by virtue of its ability either to block the light or allow it to pass through. And so it is also with natural selection. To repeat, natural selection both weeds in and weeds out evolutionary novelties, and gives a pass to prior developments that still work.
This formulation can be illustrated with a textbook example of evolutionary change -- "industrial melanism." Until the Industrial Revolution, a "cryptic" (light-colored) species of the peppered moth (Biston betularia) predominated in the English countryside over a darker "melanic" form (Biston carbonaria). The wing coloration of B. betularia provided camouflage from avian predators as the moths rested on the trunks of lichen-encrusted trees, an advantage that was not shared by the darker form. But as soot blackened the tree trunks in areas near growing industrial cities, in due course the relative frequency of the two forms was reversed; the birds began to prey more heavily on the now more visible cryptic species and overlooked the darker form.
The question is, where in this example was natural selection "located?" The short answer is that natural selection encompasses the entire configuration of factors that combined to influence differential survival and reproduction. In this case, an alteration in the relationship between the coloration of the trees and the wing pigmentation of the moths, as a consequence of industrial pollution, was an important proximate factor. But this factor was important only because of the inflexible resting behavior of the moths and the feeding habits and perceptual abilities of the birds. Had the moths been subject only to insect-eating bats that use "sonar" rather than a visual detection system to catch insects on the wing, the change in background coloration would not have been significant. Nor would it have been significant had there not been genetically based patterns of wing coloration in the two forms that were available for "selection" in the two forms. (Later studies concerning the additional influence of air pollution can be left out of the discussion for our purpose.)
Accordingly, one cannot properly speak of "mechanisms" or fix on a particular "selection pressure" in explaining the causes of evolutionary change via natural selection. One must focus on the interactions that occur within an organism and between the organism and its environment(s), inclusive of other organisms; natural selection is about adaptively significant changes in organism-environment relationships. But this begs the question: What factors are responsible for bringing about changes in organism-environment relationships? The answer, of course, is many things. It could be a functionally-significant mutation, a chromosomal transposition, a change in the physical environment, a change in one species that affects another species, or it could be a change in behavior that results in a new organism-environment relationship. In fact, a whole sequence of changes may ripple through a complex pattern of relationships. For instance, a climate change might alter the ecology, which might induce a behavioral shift to a new habitat, which might encourage an alteration in nutritional habits, which might precipitate changes in the interactions among different species, resulting ultimately in the differential survival and reproduction of alternative morphological characters and the genes that support them. (An excellent illustration of this causal dynamic can be found in the long-running research program in the Galápagos Islands among "Darwin's finches" by the husband and wife team, Peter and Rosemary Grant.)
The bottom line is this: It is the functional effects or consequences of various organism-environment pattern-changes, insofar as they may impact on differential survival, that constitute the "causes" of natural selection. Another way of putting it is that causation in evolution also runs backwards from our conventional view of things; in evolution, functional effects are also causes. It is an iterative process. To use Ernst Mayr's (1965) well-known distinction, it is the "proximate" functional effects which result from any change in the organism-environment relationship that are the causes of the "ultimate" (transgenerational) selective changes in the genotype, and the gene pool of a species.
Thought for the Day: “When the words are confused, the mind is also” -- Seneca
Given the misunderstandings that are evident in various writings about evolution, it’s worth re-stating Darwin’s basic idea. In a nutshell, he posited that the history of life on Earth has involved a very long, trans-generational process characterized by both continuities and “progressive” (and sometimes regressive) functional developments over time. Moreover, both the continuities and the changes that have occurred in the course of evolution have been the ultimate result of a causal dynamic that is internal to the process itself. It was not imposed from outside.
In essence, this causal dynamic is a process in which the outcomes (in terms of survival and reproduction) in each generation of living organisms are determined in situ by the functional relationships and interactions that occur between organisms and their specific environments. Both the organism and its environment are important players in this dynamic, and it is absolutely wrong to say that inanimate environments do any “selecting”. Even as a metaphor, this is misleading. Likewise, it is onerous to say that something is “selected for.” It implies premeditation.
Darwin characterized this dynamic as “natural selection,” but he well understood (despite his sometimes flagrant rhetoric) that natural selection is not a concrete mechanism, and it does not actually do anything. In fact, it was based on an analogy with artificial selection by animal breeders. Nor did he claim that natural selection was the exclusive agency of evolutionary change; he was well aware of the complexities.
A crucial point about Darwin’s theory, which is often overlooked by his critics, is that it rests on the fundamental assumption that life is a contingent and often precarious process (a “struggle for existence” as Darwin put it) and that “earning a living” (and reproducing) in the “economy of nature” is the basic vocation for all life forms. In other words, in evolution there is no free lunch.
Given this premise, and given the well-documented fact that living systems can vary greatly in their functional capabilities – their ability to earn a living in a given environment – it follows that there will be differential success in surviving and reproducing. So natural selection refers to the survival/reproduction outcomes in each generation, including both the continuities and the changes -- the weeding in as well as the weeding out. (I’m partial to biologist Theodosius Dobzhansky’s distinction between “normalizing” or stabilizing selection, positive selection, and negative selection.) Darwin also adopted the Malthusian assumption of relentless population growth, which greatly intensifies competition for the means of subsistence, but this assumption is not essential to the theory and is not always the case in nature.
So why is there no “standard definition” of natural selection. In part, no doubt, the very subtlety of the idea challenges our efforts to provide a simple one-sentence definition. But partly too, I suspect the differences reflect varying degrees of bias among those who are strongly pro-natural selection and those who would wish to minimize or even reject Darwin’s theory. The pro-Darwinians often speak about natural selection as if it were an active, even omnipotent selecting agency. Thus, paleontologist George Gaylord Simpson asserted that "The mechanism of adaptation is natural selection....[It] usually operates in favor of maintained or increased adaptation to a given way of life." Similarly, biologist Ernst Mayr informed us that "Natural selection does its best to favor the production of programs guaranteeing behavior that increases fitness." And, in his discipline-defining volume Sociobiology, Edward O. Wilson assured us that "natural selection is the agent that molds virtually all of the characters of species."
On the other side of the fence are anti-Darwinian theorists like biologist Robert Reid, in his book Biological Emergences, who claims that natural selection is “irrelevant” to the explanation of complexity in the natural world. Evolution is an internally-driven, “emergent” process, he tells us, and natural selection is mostly “obstructionist”. At best it may play a minor, “fine-tuning” and “stabilizing” role by “weeding out” unfit variants. Likewise, biologist Lynn Margulis and her son and co-author, Dorion Sagan, while not hostile to natural selection, nevertheless downplay its role in making their case for “symbiogenesis” as a creative agency in evolution. In their book, Acquiring Genomes, they speak of natural selection as “a strictly subtractive process.”
In other words, some theorists see natural selection as the “creator” while others see it as the “executioner”. It’s analogous to a situation in which two critics, viewing an old-fashioned black and white photograph, get into an argument about the role of the negative. One critic asserts that, since the paper used for the print is white to begin with, only the black portions can be attributed to the influence of the negative. On the contrary, the other critic argues, the negative is only responsible for the white portion of the print, since that is where the negative acted to block the developer light from passing through to darken the print. In fact, the negative controls both the light and dark portions of the print by virtue of its ability either to block the light or allow it to pass through. And so it is also with natural selection. To repeat, natural selection both weeds in and weeds out evolutionary novelties, and gives a pass to prior developments that still work.
This formulation can be illustrated with a textbook example of evolutionary change -- "industrial melanism." Until the Industrial Revolution, a "cryptic" (light-colored) species of the peppered moth (Biston betularia) predominated in the English countryside over a darker "melanic" form (Biston carbonaria). The wing coloration of B. betularia provided camouflage from avian predators as the moths rested on the trunks of lichen-encrusted trees, an advantage that was not shared by the darker form. But as soot blackened the tree trunks in areas near growing industrial cities, in due course the relative frequency of the two forms was reversed; the birds began to prey more heavily on the now more visible cryptic species and overlooked the darker form.
The question is, where in this example was natural selection "located?" The short answer is that natural selection encompasses the entire configuration of factors that combined to influence differential survival and reproduction. In this case, an alteration in the relationship between the coloration of the trees and the wing pigmentation of the moths, as a consequence of industrial pollution, was an important proximate factor. But this factor was important only because of the inflexible resting behavior of the moths and the feeding habits and perceptual abilities of the birds. Had the moths been subject only to insect-eating bats that use "sonar" rather than a visual detection system to catch insects on the wing, the change in background coloration would not have been significant. Nor would it have been significant had there not been genetically based patterns of wing coloration in the two forms that were available for "selection" in the two forms. (Later studies concerning the additional influence of air pollution can be left out of the discussion for our purpose.)
Accordingly, one cannot properly speak of "mechanisms" or fix on a particular "selection pressure" in explaining the causes of evolutionary change via natural selection. One must focus on the interactions that occur within an organism and between the organism and its environment(s), inclusive of other organisms; natural selection is about adaptively significant changes in organism-environment relationships. But this begs the question: What factors are responsible for bringing about changes in organism-environment relationships? The answer, of course, is many things. It could be a functionally-significant mutation, a chromosomal transposition, a change in the physical environment, a change in one species that affects another species, or it could be a change in behavior that results in a new organism-environment relationship. In fact, a whole sequence of changes may ripple through a complex pattern of relationships. For instance, a climate change might alter the ecology, which might induce a behavioral shift to a new habitat, which might encourage an alteration in nutritional habits, which might precipitate changes in the interactions among different species, resulting ultimately in the differential survival and reproduction of alternative morphological characters and the genes that support them. (An excellent illustration of this causal dynamic can be found in the long-running research program in the Galápagos Islands among "Darwin's finches" by the husband and wife team, Peter and Rosemary Grant.)
The bottom line is this: It is the functional effects or consequences of various organism-environment pattern-changes, insofar as they may impact on differential survival, that constitute the "causes" of natural selection. Another way of putting it is that causation in evolution also runs backwards from our conventional view of things; in evolution, functional effects are also causes. It is an iterative process. To use Ernst Mayr's (1965) well-known distinction, it is the "proximate" functional effects which result from any change in the organism-environment relationship that are the causes of the "ultimate" (transgenerational) selective changes in the genotype, and the gene pool of a species.
Thought for the Day: “When the words are confused, the mind is also” -- Seneca
Friday, January 18, 2008
The Dawkins Delusion
Though Richard Dawkins is viewed as an oracle in some quarters, and as an incarnation of the devil in others, neither view is justified, and it would be good for all of us if our various Dawkins delusions were deflated. There can certainly be no gainsaying his enormous talent and prodigious accomplishments. The problem is with the content – and with his calculated rhetoric – which has enriched him while, at the same time, misleading both his acolytes and his enemies.
Let’s start with the “selfish gene” – at once a cunningly clever metaphor and a serious distortion of the evolutionary process. Dawkins became famous for this inspired image (the title of his first book, in 1976), and for his assertion that we are all “robot vehicles” that are “blindly programmed to serve the selfish molecules known as genes.” This reductionist, simplistic view of evolution (which endows DNA with an all-powerful teleology) is, as Winston Churchill once said in a much different context, a “terminological inexactitude.”
In fact, Dawkins himself backpedaled from this provocative caricature even in the recesses of The Selfish Gene. On page 37 he concedes that, of course, the genes are not really free and independent agents: “They collaborate and interact in inextricably complex ways….Building a leg is a multi-gene cooperative enterprise.” To underscore the point, Dawkins employs a rowing metaphor: One oarsman on his own cannot win the Oxford and Cambridge boat race. He needs eight colleagues….Rowing the boat is a cooperative venture” (p.38).
Even more discordant is a remark Dawkins made in a subsequent book, The Blind Watchmaker, where he describes embryonic development and concludes: “We have a picture of teams of genes all evolving toward cooperative solutions to problems….It is the ‘team’ that evolves” (p171). Some would call this “group selection,” though Dawkins officially rejects the idea (more on this below). So Dawkins has always had a tendency to talk out of both sides of his mouth, with all the aplomb of an elected politician.
On one point, though, Dawkins has been consistent – and consistently wrong. On the subject of human nature and the nature of human societies, he remains a “head in the bag” neo-Darwinian (to borrow one of his own terms of opprobrium). He sees evolution as a being predominately a process of relentless, gladiatorial competition among individuals: “I think ‘nature red in tooth and claw’ sums up our modern understanding of natural selection admirably,” he wrote on page two of The Selfish Gene. This applies to human evolution as well. In his paradigm, competition has been the norm, and social life in human societies is derived from “kin selection” – altruism toward close kin that is ultimately self-serving genetically. From this narrow perspective, then, tribalism, nationalism and other group loyalties in humans are a distortion (a hypertrophy in biospeak) of the kin-based social bonds that were the basis of our evolution as a species.
Contrary to this sanguinary view of evolution, it has become increasingly clear during the past decade or so that symbiosis and cooperative relationships are widespread in nature and are also fundamental properties of the natural world. In effect, competition and cooperation share the credit for “progressive” evolutionary changes, at all levels. Dawkins could just as well have titled his famous book The Cooperative Gene (and in fact biologist Mark Ridley did just so in his 2001 book). Moreover, this model has been especially applicable to human evolution, and the shaping of human nature. There is growing support among human evolutionists (across several disciplines) for the view that humankind evolved, over several million years, in closely cooperating groups that included non-kin as well as close relatives and that “group selection” (the differential survival of competing groups) greatly encouraged our proclivities for group solidarity, morality and “coherence,” as Darwin himself put it in The Descent of Man. The flip side of this, of course, is our propensity for xenophobia. It seems the current generation of evolutionary theorists are rediscovering Darwin’s Darwinism.
So, in this light, let’s talk about Dawkins’ latest piece of in flagrante delicto prose -- The God Delusion. A full-scale rebuttal is not possible here, but it boils down to this key point: Blaming religion for the various travesties committed by human groups is like blaming the car for the behavior of the driver. The problem lies in our evolved human nature, not in the excesses that religions sometimes foster and commit. Nor are religious organizations the only culprits in perpetrating group conflicts. Consider the antagonisms that have, historically, swirled around tribalism, ethnic identities, nationalism, ideological cleavages (communists and capitalists), economic interests (e.g., the north and south in the American Civil War), and even soccer matches. Indeed, Dawkins’ all-out assault on religion is a reflection of yet another such cleavage -- the ongoing political conflict between a beleaguered scientific community and the “intelligent design” crowd. So let’s stop blaming the car.
Thought for the day: Personally, I see religion as being double-edged, like so much else in life. Organized religions have perpetrated a great many atrocities historically, but at their best they may also help the poor and afflicted, reinforce moral conduct, provide comfort and solace, and facilitate social relationships and social bonds. As Frank Sinatra put it: “I’m in favor of anything that will get you through the night.”
Let’s start with the “selfish gene” – at once a cunningly clever metaphor and a serious distortion of the evolutionary process. Dawkins became famous for this inspired image (the title of his first book, in 1976), and for his assertion that we are all “robot vehicles” that are “blindly programmed to serve the selfish molecules known as genes.” This reductionist, simplistic view of evolution (which endows DNA with an all-powerful teleology) is, as Winston Churchill once said in a much different context, a “terminological inexactitude.”
In fact, Dawkins himself backpedaled from this provocative caricature even in the recesses of The Selfish Gene. On page 37 he concedes that, of course, the genes are not really free and independent agents: “They collaborate and interact in inextricably complex ways….Building a leg is a multi-gene cooperative enterprise.” To underscore the point, Dawkins employs a rowing metaphor: One oarsman on his own cannot win the Oxford and Cambridge boat race. He needs eight colleagues….Rowing the boat is a cooperative venture” (p.38).
Even more discordant is a remark Dawkins made in a subsequent book, The Blind Watchmaker, where he describes embryonic development and concludes: “We have a picture of teams of genes all evolving toward cooperative solutions to problems….It is the ‘team’ that evolves” (p171). Some would call this “group selection,” though Dawkins officially rejects the idea (more on this below). So Dawkins has always had a tendency to talk out of both sides of his mouth, with all the aplomb of an elected politician.
On one point, though, Dawkins has been consistent – and consistently wrong. On the subject of human nature and the nature of human societies, he remains a “head in the bag” neo-Darwinian (to borrow one of his own terms of opprobrium). He sees evolution as a being predominately a process of relentless, gladiatorial competition among individuals: “I think ‘nature red in tooth and claw’ sums up our modern understanding of natural selection admirably,” he wrote on page two of The Selfish Gene. This applies to human evolution as well. In his paradigm, competition has been the norm, and social life in human societies is derived from “kin selection” – altruism toward close kin that is ultimately self-serving genetically. From this narrow perspective, then, tribalism, nationalism and other group loyalties in humans are a distortion (a hypertrophy in biospeak) of the kin-based social bonds that were the basis of our evolution as a species.
Contrary to this sanguinary view of evolution, it has become increasingly clear during the past decade or so that symbiosis and cooperative relationships are widespread in nature and are also fundamental properties of the natural world. In effect, competition and cooperation share the credit for “progressive” evolutionary changes, at all levels. Dawkins could just as well have titled his famous book The Cooperative Gene (and in fact biologist Mark Ridley did just so in his 2001 book). Moreover, this model has been especially applicable to human evolution, and the shaping of human nature. There is growing support among human evolutionists (across several disciplines) for the view that humankind evolved, over several million years, in closely cooperating groups that included non-kin as well as close relatives and that “group selection” (the differential survival of competing groups) greatly encouraged our proclivities for group solidarity, morality and “coherence,” as Darwin himself put it in The Descent of Man. The flip side of this, of course, is our propensity for xenophobia. It seems the current generation of evolutionary theorists are rediscovering Darwin’s Darwinism.
So, in this light, let’s talk about Dawkins’ latest piece of in flagrante delicto prose -- The God Delusion. A full-scale rebuttal is not possible here, but it boils down to this key point: Blaming religion for the various travesties committed by human groups is like blaming the car for the behavior of the driver. The problem lies in our evolved human nature, not in the excesses that religions sometimes foster and commit. Nor are religious organizations the only culprits in perpetrating group conflicts. Consider the antagonisms that have, historically, swirled around tribalism, ethnic identities, nationalism, ideological cleavages (communists and capitalists), economic interests (e.g., the north and south in the American Civil War), and even soccer matches. Indeed, Dawkins’ all-out assault on religion is a reflection of yet another such cleavage -- the ongoing political conflict between a beleaguered scientific community and the “intelligent design” crowd. So let’s stop blaming the car.
Thought for the day: Personally, I see religion as being double-edged, like so much else in life. Organized religions have perpetrated a great many atrocities historically, but at their best they may also help the poor and afflicted, reinforce moral conduct, provide comfort and solace, and facilitate social relationships and social bonds. As Frank Sinatra put it: “I’m in favor of anything that will get you through the night.”
Thursday, December 27, 2007
The Rise and Fall of the American Empire
When it comes to empires these days, it’s “easy come, easy go.” Only a few years ago, around the time of our cake-walk invasion of Iraq (and before the “oops” part), our media was full of self-congratulatory and, as it turns out, delusive claims that America, for better or worse, was now an empire – like Rome and Great Britain in their heyday. (Our pundits tended to overlook the darker examples of the Japanese and Soviet empires in the 20th century, for some reason.) We were told that now the United States was the “hegemon” – meaning that it was undisputed as the dominant military power – and the keeper of a stable international order.
Of course, past empires occupied and controlled “colonies” that they blatantly exploited for their own advantage. Also, a few historical details were overlooked by the pundits: Rome was undisputed in its power only for a (relatively) brief period in the middle of its thousand-year history; it remained a republic during much of its ascendancy and fought an unending series of wars against the “barbarians” in its latter stages. And British power was never uncontested. Indeed, the 18th and 19th century race for colonies among the British, French, Germans, Austro-Hungarians, Russians, Spanish, Italians, and Americans, was intense and contributed to the cataclysm of World Wars One and Two. Moreover, the voluntary dismantling of their empires by both the British and the Americans after World War Two (and somewhat more reluctantly by the French and then the Soviets after the fall of the Berlin Wall) seemed to bring an end to the imperialist era. Self-determination became the new mantra of a more democratic world order, or so the optimists proclaimed.
To be sure, America still guards the gates in various places – Germany, South Korea and the Middle East. And our military machine is still formidable, despite the costly humbling we have suffered in Iraq. Our annual military budget is greater than those of all the rest of the industrialized nations combined (but watch out for China). Equally important, the economic order that we have sponsored and supported – most significantly through the World Bank and the World Trade Organization – have been instrumentalities for advancing American economic interests (namely, capitalism and “free” trade -- with a few obvious exceptions like farm products). Our cultural exports have also been influential in the global community.
But there the analogy ends, and the disanalogies are growing stronger by the day – it seems. In fact, free trade has been hollowing out the underlying source of our power –our industrial capacity and trade surpluses. At the end of World War Two, the United States produced 50% of the world’s total Gross Domestic Product and was undisputed leader in just about every industrial sector. We had a favorable balance of trade for more than half a century. Now 70% of our GDP consists of consumer spending, much of it with borrowed money and much of it spent on goods (and oil) imported from China and everywhere else. More important, we have gone from being the world’s banker after World War Two to being world’s biggest debtor nation. Control over our own fiscal and economic destiny is rapidly slipping from our hands, as even some of the biggest of Wall Street’s banking and investment houses are being auctioned off to recoup from the sub-prime mortgage calamity.
Equally significant, what was once the world’s highest standard of living and most modern infrastructure has slipped badly; we now rank closer to some developing countries. To maintain our humongous military machine, we have also been starving the underpinnings of our society – our educational system, our public works, and more. (And this is not just an ideological stance; just look at the comparative statistics.) And, where once we were leaders in the world community, now our representatives (at the recent Bali climate change conference) are booed and we are asked please to “get out of the way.” Finally, a resurgent Russia and an emergent China are subtly resisting and challenging our “leadership.”
So the truth is that our imperial period never existed. It amount to a passing whiff of hubris -- followed by nemesis, of course. Now we ache to be out of Iraq. And we watch with baited breath as our economy struggles with the latest wasteful and destructive “bubble” (the sub-prime mortgage debacle), and with all the other sins of a spendthrift society. We will be hard-pressed to prevent further economic decline and, indeed, poverty and hardship on a scale that we have not experienced in this country for many years. The reality isn’t pretty, but facing up to it honestly is the first step toward coping with it. I keep waiting for candid leadership from our present crop of Presidential candidates. So far, no good.
Thought for the day: Sic transit Gloria mundi (thus passes the glory of the world), or fame is fleeting. It’s a lesson that each new generation seems to re-learn the hard way. Among the many variations on this theme (some humorous) was this headline in the New York Daily News some years back about the hospitalization of the prominent New York heiress Gloria Vanderbilt: “Sick Gloria in Transit Monday.”
Of course, past empires occupied and controlled “colonies” that they blatantly exploited for their own advantage. Also, a few historical details were overlooked by the pundits: Rome was undisputed in its power only for a (relatively) brief period in the middle of its thousand-year history; it remained a republic during much of its ascendancy and fought an unending series of wars against the “barbarians” in its latter stages. And British power was never uncontested. Indeed, the 18th and 19th century race for colonies among the British, French, Germans, Austro-Hungarians, Russians, Spanish, Italians, and Americans, was intense and contributed to the cataclysm of World Wars One and Two. Moreover, the voluntary dismantling of their empires by both the British and the Americans after World War Two (and somewhat more reluctantly by the French and then the Soviets after the fall of the Berlin Wall) seemed to bring an end to the imperialist era. Self-determination became the new mantra of a more democratic world order, or so the optimists proclaimed.
To be sure, America still guards the gates in various places – Germany, South Korea and the Middle East. And our military machine is still formidable, despite the costly humbling we have suffered in Iraq. Our annual military budget is greater than those of all the rest of the industrialized nations combined (but watch out for China). Equally important, the economic order that we have sponsored and supported – most significantly through the World Bank and the World Trade Organization – have been instrumentalities for advancing American economic interests (namely, capitalism and “free” trade -- with a few obvious exceptions like farm products). Our cultural exports have also been influential in the global community.
But there the analogy ends, and the disanalogies are growing stronger by the day – it seems. In fact, free trade has been hollowing out the underlying source of our power –our industrial capacity and trade surpluses. At the end of World War Two, the United States produced 50% of the world’s total Gross Domestic Product and was undisputed leader in just about every industrial sector. We had a favorable balance of trade for more than half a century. Now 70% of our GDP consists of consumer spending, much of it with borrowed money and much of it spent on goods (and oil) imported from China and everywhere else. More important, we have gone from being the world’s banker after World War Two to being world’s biggest debtor nation. Control over our own fiscal and economic destiny is rapidly slipping from our hands, as even some of the biggest of Wall Street’s banking and investment houses are being auctioned off to recoup from the sub-prime mortgage calamity.
Equally significant, what was once the world’s highest standard of living and most modern infrastructure has slipped badly; we now rank closer to some developing countries. To maintain our humongous military machine, we have also been starving the underpinnings of our society – our educational system, our public works, and more. (And this is not just an ideological stance; just look at the comparative statistics.) And, where once we were leaders in the world community, now our representatives (at the recent Bali climate change conference) are booed and we are asked please to “get out of the way.” Finally, a resurgent Russia and an emergent China are subtly resisting and challenging our “leadership.”
So the truth is that our imperial period never existed. It amount to a passing whiff of hubris -- followed by nemesis, of course. Now we ache to be out of Iraq. And we watch with baited breath as our economy struggles with the latest wasteful and destructive “bubble” (the sub-prime mortgage debacle), and with all the other sins of a spendthrift society. We will be hard-pressed to prevent further economic decline and, indeed, poverty and hardship on a scale that we have not experienced in this country for many years. The reality isn’t pretty, but facing up to it honestly is the first step toward coping with it. I keep waiting for candid leadership from our present crop of Presidential candidates. So far, no good.
Thought for the day: Sic transit Gloria mundi (thus passes the glory of the world), or fame is fleeting. It’s a lesson that each new generation seems to re-learn the hard way. Among the many variations on this theme (some humorous) was this headline in the New York Daily News some years back about the hospitalization of the prominent New York heiress Gloria Vanderbilt: “Sick Gloria in Transit Monday.”
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Emergence and Evolution
“Emergence” seems to be the latest buzzword among a new generation of holistic/systems-oriented theorists. I say a “new” generation because emergence theory is not new. It can be traced back to a similar movement in the latter 19th century. (The history of this earlier movement is described in a recent article of mine in the journal Complexity called “The Re-emergence of Emergence: A Venerable Concept in Search of a Theory.”)
Among the many problems with the current reincarnation of emergence is the fact that there is no agreement on how to define the term in such a way that you can recognize emergence when you see it. One theorist who has done a creditable job, however, is biologist Robert Reid in his new book, Biological Emergences: Evolution by Natural Experiment (MIT Press 2007). Reid focuses on increases in biological complexity that produce qualitatively new functional properties, and he identifies three broad categories of emergent phenomena: (1) symbiosis and associations, (2) physiological and behavioral innovations, and (3) developmental and epigenetic influences. Reid also makes a compelling case for the thesis that emergence as he defines it has played a major creative role in evolution.
So far, so good. But Reid also attacks neo-Darwinism and claims that natural selection has had little to do with “progressive” evolution – meaning the evolution of complexity over time. Its role is primarily confined to “stabilizing” the innovations that have arisen autonomously, he asserts. Here, I’m afraid, we part company.
I certainly agree with Reid’s critique of the neo-Darwinists. And I certainly agree with his basic argument that emergence has played a fundamental creative role in evolution. How could I disagree. My own “Synergism Hypothesis” is really about emergent complexity -- though my theory emphasizes the functional (bioeconomic) effects – and their evolutionary consequences -- rather than the causes of emergence and embraces other, non-emergent forms of synergy as well. And yet, there remains a huge difference in our views about the role of natural selection, and I suspect it is traceable to differences in our "ground-zero" assumptions (as I call them) about the nature of life.
When all of Darwin's rhetorical flourishes, and his gradualism, and other problems with his theory are stripped away, the heart of his vision, I believe, is his assumption that life is at bottom a contingent, often precarious phenomenon (a "struggle for existence") and that "earning a living" in "the economy of nature" is the fundamental challenge for all life forms. I like to call it a "survival enterprise." In other words, failure is always an option. And, given the fact that life is predominately pursued in collectivities (emergent systems), the evolutionary process is -- at every level of complexity -- quintessentially a "collective survival enterprise." Moreover, economic criteria are crucially important; there are always costs for emergent novelties, and the benefits must outweigh the costs. (That is why the functional synergies associated with emergence are so significant.)
When this assumption is put together with Darwin's other basic assumption, that functionally important variability is a rule in the natural world, this means that natural selection (broadly defined) is inescapable. That is, the variants in every generation are subject to "differential survival and reproduction" based on their functional differences. It may be that some, or all, or none, of these variants can "make the cut" in any generation, but being subjected to the test of fitness is unavoidable. And this applies to any emergent novelty as well. Reid himself speaks of "natural experiments," and "adaptation," and "adaptability," and "functionality" (physiology is all about functions, he points out), and "workability," and "does it work?" The question is, adaptable/functional/workable for what? The answer, of course, is for ensuring/furthering/enhancing the "collective survival enterprise" in a given environmental context. I like biologist Theodosius Dobzhansky's characterization (or was it Julian Huxley's?) of evolution as a process of "trial-and-success."
So, while I wholeheartedly endorse Reid’s critique of the gene-centered, neo-Darwinian (mutation/competition/selection) paradigm, with its emphasis on ecological competition and its abstract "gene pool" model of the evolutionary process, and while I think emergence is of fundamental causal importance in evolution, I think natural selection (broadly defined) is also a party to the process at every step. I like evolutionary biologist Ernst Mayr's short-hand description of evolution as a "two-step tandem process" -- meaning (1) functional innovations, from whatever source, coupled with (2) differential success/failure over time. To assume otherwise is to assume away the basic survival problem, I believe. (Much of this is discussed further in my most recent book: Holistic Darwinism: Synergy, Cybernetics and the Bioeconomics of Evolution.)
Thought for the day: To quote again the great 20th century evolutionary biologist Theodosius Dobzhansky: "No theory of evolution that leaves the phenomenon of adaptation an unexplained mystery can be acceptable."
Among the many problems with the current reincarnation of emergence is the fact that there is no agreement on how to define the term in such a way that you can recognize emergence when you see it. One theorist who has done a creditable job, however, is biologist Robert Reid in his new book, Biological Emergences: Evolution by Natural Experiment (MIT Press 2007). Reid focuses on increases in biological complexity that produce qualitatively new functional properties, and he identifies three broad categories of emergent phenomena: (1) symbiosis and associations, (2) physiological and behavioral innovations, and (3) developmental and epigenetic influences. Reid also makes a compelling case for the thesis that emergence as he defines it has played a major creative role in evolution.
So far, so good. But Reid also attacks neo-Darwinism and claims that natural selection has had little to do with “progressive” evolution – meaning the evolution of complexity over time. Its role is primarily confined to “stabilizing” the innovations that have arisen autonomously, he asserts. Here, I’m afraid, we part company.
I certainly agree with Reid’s critique of the neo-Darwinists. And I certainly agree with his basic argument that emergence has played a fundamental creative role in evolution. How could I disagree. My own “Synergism Hypothesis” is really about emergent complexity -- though my theory emphasizes the functional (bioeconomic) effects – and their evolutionary consequences -- rather than the causes of emergence and embraces other, non-emergent forms of synergy as well. And yet, there remains a huge difference in our views about the role of natural selection, and I suspect it is traceable to differences in our "ground-zero" assumptions (as I call them) about the nature of life.
When all of Darwin's rhetorical flourishes, and his gradualism, and other problems with his theory are stripped away, the heart of his vision, I believe, is his assumption that life is at bottom a contingent, often precarious phenomenon (a "struggle for existence") and that "earning a living" in "the economy of nature" is the fundamental challenge for all life forms. I like to call it a "survival enterprise." In other words, failure is always an option. And, given the fact that life is predominately pursued in collectivities (emergent systems), the evolutionary process is -- at every level of complexity -- quintessentially a "collective survival enterprise." Moreover, economic criteria are crucially important; there are always costs for emergent novelties, and the benefits must outweigh the costs. (That is why the functional synergies associated with emergence are so significant.)
When this assumption is put together with Darwin's other basic assumption, that functionally important variability is a rule in the natural world, this means that natural selection (broadly defined) is inescapable. That is, the variants in every generation are subject to "differential survival and reproduction" based on their functional differences. It may be that some, or all, or none, of these variants can "make the cut" in any generation, but being subjected to the test of fitness is unavoidable. And this applies to any emergent novelty as well. Reid himself speaks of "natural experiments," and "adaptation," and "adaptability," and "functionality" (physiology is all about functions, he points out), and "workability," and "does it work?" The question is, adaptable/functional/workable for what? The answer, of course, is for ensuring/furthering/enhancing the "collective survival enterprise" in a given environmental context. I like biologist Theodosius Dobzhansky's characterization (or was it Julian Huxley's?) of evolution as a process of "trial-and-success."
So, while I wholeheartedly endorse Reid’s critique of the gene-centered, neo-Darwinian (mutation/competition/selection) paradigm, with its emphasis on ecological competition and its abstract "gene pool" model of the evolutionary process, and while I think emergence is of fundamental causal importance in evolution, I think natural selection (broadly defined) is also a party to the process at every step. I like evolutionary biologist Ernst Mayr's short-hand description of evolution as a "two-step tandem process" -- meaning (1) functional innovations, from whatever source, coupled with (2) differential success/failure over time. To assume otherwise is to assume away the basic survival problem, I believe. (Much of this is discussed further in my most recent book: Holistic Darwinism: Synergy, Cybernetics and the Bioeconomics of Evolution.)
Thought for the day: To quote again the great 20th century evolutionary biologist Theodosius Dobzhansky: "No theory of evolution that leaves the phenomenon of adaptation an unexplained mystery can be acceptable."
Monday, December 10, 2007
How Holistic Darwinism Trumps Neo-Conservatism
In his book, The Great Transformation (1944), Karl Polanyi produced a classic critique of the liberal (conservative) ideal of free market capitalism that still resonates today.
According to liberal economic doctrine, if various impediments are removed so that a market economy can operate free of constraints and imperfections, it would not only be self-regulating and self-equilibrating but would lead to the most “efficient” utilization of capital, resources and labor. Indeed, for the most fervent of free market advocates, this ideal is an end in itself.
Polanyi’s argument was that this model is utopian. It can never work in the real world, and the history of the great 19th century “transformation” to industrial market capitalism (not to mention the history of the 20th century) proves it. As Polanyi put it, markets are “embedded” in human societies, and the needs and wants of a society and its members cannot in the long run be subordinated to market efficiency. This is not simply a normative statement, or a moral claim, moreover. It is an empirical reality. Ultimately, people will rebel and governments will either need to intervene or they will be replaced. Indeed, even capitalists do not, as a rule, want complete freedom from government interference. They want laws, and regulations, and property rights and, very often, government support in the form of protections and subsidies.
Economist Joseph Stiglitz, in a commentary on Polanyi’s book, also points out that advanced industrial economies like ours are even more constrained by the fact that the vast majority of the population depends on the marketplace for their livelihoods (see my blog entry on the “paradox of dependency”). So “labor” is not simply an “input” that can lie idle or find other uses if no jobs are available. Unemployment has inescapably destructive consequences.
What Holistic Darwinism adds to this critique is a theoretical foundation. From an evolutionary/biological perspective, our basic vocation as individuals and families is survival and reproduction – and specifically the meeting of some 14 domains of “basic needs” (according to the Survival Indicators Project). These are biological imperatives. We are all implicitly engaged in a “survival enterprise.” Moreover, in a modern market economy, our individual needs have been aggregated into an extraordinarily complex, interdependent system – a “collective survival enterprise.” We are joint participants in a “biological contract.” Accordingly, economic markets represent a system -- a strategy -- for meeting our basic biological needs. And if the markets fail to do so, for whatever reason, corrective actions are entirely justified. Markets exist to serve our needs, not the other way around.
Neo-Darwinians and social Darwinists might object that, to the contrary, capitalism is natural because it embodies our innately selfish and competitive natures – as Adam Smith himself suggested. The problem with this model is that it overlooks our fundamental dependence on cooperation and the fact that we evolved over several million years in closely cooperating social groups. Equally important, modern societies remain deeply dependent on cooperation; we live in highly interdependent economic systems. Competition may also be natural and inevitable, reflecting the duality of human nature, but it must also be subordinated to our collective needs. And if capitalist markets fail to meet our needs, we have every right to cooperate in an effort to redress our grievances – whether it be through labor unions, or governments, or political movements or even revolution if necessary. To borrow a phrase, revolutions are politics by other means.
Thought for the day: As the American Declaration of Independence puts it, governments are “instituted among men” to secure our “inalienable rights,” and derive their “just powers” from “the consent of the governed.” Furthermore, whenever any form of government “becomes destructive of those ends,” the people have the right “to alter or abolish it.”
According to liberal economic doctrine, if various impediments are removed so that a market economy can operate free of constraints and imperfections, it would not only be self-regulating and self-equilibrating but would lead to the most “efficient” utilization of capital, resources and labor. Indeed, for the most fervent of free market advocates, this ideal is an end in itself.
Polanyi’s argument was that this model is utopian. It can never work in the real world, and the history of the great 19th century “transformation” to industrial market capitalism (not to mention the history of the 20th century) proves it. As Polanyi put it, markets are “embedded” in human societies, and the needs and wants of a society and its members cannot in the long run be subordinated to market efficiency. This is not simply a normative statement, or a moral claim, moreover. It is an empirical reality. Ultimately, people will rebel and governments will either need to intervene or they will be replaced. Indeed, even capitalists do not, as a rule, want complete freedom from government interference. They want laws, and regulations, and property rights and, very often, government support in the form of protections and subsidies.
Economist Joseph Stiglitz, in a commentary on Polanyi’s book, also points out that advanced industrial economies like ours are even more constrained by the fact that the vast majority of the population depends on the marketplace for their livelihoods (see my blog entry on the “paradox of dependency”). So “labor” is not simply an “input” that can lie idle or find other uses if no jobs are available. Unemployment has inescapably destructive consequences.
What Holistic Darwinism adds to this critique is a theoretical foundation. From an evolutionary/biological perspective, our basic vocation as individuals and families is survival and reproduction – and specifically the meeting of some 14 domains of “basic needs” (according to the Survival Indicators Project). These are biological imperatives. We are all implicitly engaged in a “survival enterprise.” Moreover, in a modern market economy, our individual needs have been aggregated into an extraordinarily complex, interdependent system – a “collective survival enterprise.” We are joint participants in a “biological contract.” Accordingly, economic markets represent a system -- a strategy -- for meeting our basic biological needs. And if the markets fail to do so, for whatever reason, corrective actions are entirely justified. Markets exist to serve our needs, not the other way around.
Neo-Darwinians and social Darwinists might object that, to the contrary, capitalism is natural because it embodies our innately selfish and competitive natures – as Adam Smith himself suggested. The problem with this model is that it overlooks our fundamental dependence on cooperation and the fact that we evolved over several million years in closely cooperating social groups. Equally important, modern societies remain deeply dependent on cooperation; we live in highly interdependent economic systems. Competition may also be natural and inevitable, reflecting the duality of human nature, but it must also be subordinated to our collective needs. And if capitalist markets fail to meet our needs, we have every right to cooperate in an effort to redress our grievances – whether it be through labor unions, or governments, or political movements or even revolution if necessary. To borrow a phrase, revolutions are politics by other means.
Thought for the day: As the American Declaration of Independence puts it, governments are “instituted among men” to secure our “inalienable rights,” and derive their “just powers” from “the consent of the governed.” Furthermore, whenever any form of government “becomes destructive of those ends,” the people have the right “to alter or abolish it.”
Sunday, December 9, 2007
The Paradox of Dependency
What I call the “paradox of dependency” represents one of the great, often unanticipated traps in life, it seems. The more valuable is some resource (or person) – the greater its “utility” to use the economists’ jargon – the greater may be the cost of losing it. In other words, our vulnerability increases in direct proportion to its value.
An obvious example these days is the Internet. In just a few short years, a great many people, and businesses, have come to depend on it. And when Internet services occasionally go down, for various reasons, the consequences can be severe or even catastrophic. Indeed, complex technological societies are dependent upon an immensely intricate web of activities and processes, and we only become of aware of this, it seems, when something goes wrong – say a power outage, or a trucking strike, or a prolonged regional drought. And the same may be true with people. If there is only one really competent plumber in your community and he moves away, your pipes may no longer hold water.
Indeed, our vulnerability further increases when we do not have options or contingency plans -- in other words when our dependency is monogamous. Thus, if we prepare for a power outage with a backup generator and a wood stove, we effectively reduce our dependency. Or, if we have a mail-order business that uses both the Internet and phone orders, we might be able to continue taking orders if the Internet goes down.
On other other hand, some of the megatrends in our society have left us increasingly vulnerable. For instance, back in 1900, half of the American population still lived (mostly) on small farms. As a society our agricultural dependency was highly diversified. And when the dust bowl drought hit the American southwest in the 1920s and 30s, we were able to fallow one-quarter of our farmland and still feed our people. But in the past 80 years, our food production system has become highly concentrated, both regionally and in terms of ownership, even as the population has multiplied. Thus, today about one-quarter of all the fruits and vegetables produced in the United States are grown in California. Unfortunately, we now know that California has been subject to recurrent, severe “megadroughts” over the past 10,000 years or so. In other words, we have achieved much higher productivity and efficiency (and reduced food costs) while at the same time increasing our dependency on a system that is also highly vulnerable. Food for thought -- you might say!
Thought for the day: In a long-term study by biologist Kwang Jeon in the 1980s, a strain of Amoeba proteus was initially infected with bacterial parasites that were resistant to the hosts' digestive enzymes. But after 200 generations, or 18 months, a beneficial (mutualistic) relationship had become established, and after 10 years the symbionts had developed complete interdependence; they could no longer survive independently. So, if you are going to become a dependent, do it wisely.
An obvious example these days is the Internet. In just a few short years, a great many people, and businesses, have come to depend on it. And when Internet services occasionally go down, for various reasons, the consequences can be severe or even catastrophic. Indeed, complex technological societies are dependent upon an immensely intricate web of activities and processes, and we only become of aware of this, it seems, when something goes wrong – say a power outage, or a trucking strike, or a prolonged regional drought. And the same may be true with people. If there is only one really competent plumber in your community and he moves away, your pipes may no longer hold water.
Indeed, our vulnerability further increases when we do not have options or contingency plans -- in other words when our dependency is monogamous. Thus, if we prepare for a power outage with a backup generator and a wood stove, we effectively reduce our dependency. Or, if we have a mail-order business that uses both the Internet and phone orders, we might be able to continue taking orders if the Internet goes down.
On other other hand, some of the megatrends in our society have left us increasingly vulnerable. For instance, back in 1900, half of the American population still lived (mostly) on small farms. As a society our agricultural dependency was highly diversified. And when the dust bowl drought hit the American southwest in the 1920s and 30s, we were able to fallow one-quarter of our farmland and still feed our people. But in the past 80 years, our food production system has become highly concentrated, both regionally and in terms of ownership, even as the population has multiplied. Thus, today about one-quarter of all the fruits and vegetables produced in the United States are grown in California. Unfortunately, we now know that California has been subject to recurrent, severe “megadroughts” over the past 10,000 years or so. In other words, we have achieved much higher productivity and efficiency (and reduced food costs) while at the same time increasing our dependency on a system that is also highly vulnerable. Food for thought -- you might say!
Thought for the day: In a long-term study by biologist Kwang Jeon in the 1980s, a strain of Amoeba proteus was initially infected with bacterial parasites that were resistant to the hosts' digestive enzymes. But after 200 generations, or 18 months, a beneficial (mutualistic) relationship had become established, and after 10 years the symbionts had developed complete interdependence; they could no longer survive independently. So, if you are going to become a dependent, do it wisely.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
A Reply to David Sloan Wilson
After receiving uniformly favorable – even glowing – reviews of my 2003 book, Nature’s Magic: Synergy in Evolution and the Fate of Humankind (Cambridge University Press), including high praise for the underlying theory from one of the most outstanding evolutionary biologists of the 20th century (John Maynard Smith), I was surprised, to put it mildly, when biologist David Sloan Wilson gave me a nasty, dismissive review in the on-line journal Evolutionary Psychology.
Wilson assured his readers that he was my friend (you know the old saying, “with friends like these…”) and that he only wanted to rescue me from my misguided ambitions. Indeed, I had just recently published an enthusiastic review of Wilson’s own book, Darwin’s Cathedral, in the Skeptic magazine. So it was puzzling and inexplicable for someone of his caliber and accomplishments in evolutionary theory to so completely misunderstand and misrepresent my theory, whether he agreed with it or not. He warned everyone to “beware” of it as “a theory of everything” and belittled the ways in which I had suggested that the theory could be tested.
Of course, it is not a theory of everything. The “Synergism Hypothesis” is a theory specifically about the “progressive” evolution of complexity in nature, and in human societies, a theory first proposed in 1983 as an explicit, Darwinian (bioeconomic) alternative to the various proposed “laws” of evolution that have been advanced over the years by the so-called complexity school – from Herbert Spencer to Ilya Prigogine to Stuart Kauffman and beyond. The theory explains this important evolutionary trend in terms of a common underlying principle – the principle of functional synergy.
In fact this theory is very similar in character to Darwin’s theory. Natural selection, after all, is not a “mechanism” but an “umbrella term” that is used to characterize a certain distinctive property of the evolutionary process, namely the differential survival and reproduction (or “selection”) of different forms as a result of their functional interactions (adaptations) both internally and with their environments. It is really a theory about the trans-generational consequences of these functional interactions, though the precise causes are in every case situation-specific and infinitely varied.
In the same manner, the Synergism Hypothesis is an umbrella term that singles out a subset of the relationships that are ubiquitous in nature, namely those that produce functional synergies which have consequences for differential survival and reproduction. The thesis, then, is that synergies of various kinds have been the underlying causes of the “progressive” trend in evolution toward more complex systems, in the same sense that natural selection is a causal theory of evolution more generally. Moreover, this dynamic can also be applied to the uniquely “progressive” aspect of cultural evolution in humankind. (Needless to say, I define “progressive” in strictly functional, not normative terms.)
Among the various implications of this theory is a directive that we must focus our attention, not on genes pursuing their individual agendas in isolation from one another but on “wholes” (systems) and the relationships among them, which are inescapable features of the living world. The theory also sensitizes us to the interdependencies that are everywhere in evidence, and it helps us to identify the commonalities and differences, as well as the advantages and vulnerabilities, that are associated with these relationships. In various recent writings I have also discussed the many different kinds of synergy, as well as various qualitative aspects of synergistic phenomena, along with describing various ways of testing for synergy in any given relationship.
So, I can only hope that David Sloan Wilson will ultimately come to recognize that this theory has its uses. But then, I’m also mindful of the fact that, almost 150 years after the publication of The Origin of Species, Darwin’s theory is still hotly debated. Alas.
Thought for the day: “The tipping point;” the “perfect storm;” “the straw that broke the camel’s back;” the “bingo effect.” All are variations on the synergy theme – when more (or less) is radically different. In other words, the whole is very often not “greater than the sum of its parts,” just different.
Wilson assured his readers that he was my friend (you know the old saying, “with friends like these…”) and that he only wanted to rescue me from my misguided ambitions. Indeed, I had just recently published an enthusiastic review of Wilson’s own book, Darwin’s Cathedral, in the Skeptic magazine. So it was puzzling and inexplicable for someone of his caliber and accomplishments in evolutionary theory to so completely misunderstand and misrepresent my theory, whether he agreed with it or not. He warned everyone to “beware” of it as “a theory of everything” and belittled the ways in which I had suggested that the theory could be tested.
Of course, it is not a theory of everything. The “Synergism Hypothesis” is a theory specifically about the “progressive” evolution of complexity in nature, and in human societies, a theory first proposed in 1983 as an explicit, Darwinian (bioeconomic) alternative to the various proposed “laws” of evolution that have been advanced over the years by the so-called complexity school – from Herbert Spencer to Ilya Prigogine to Stuart Kauffman and beyond. The theory explains this important evolutionary trend in terms of a common underlying principle – the principle of functional synergy.
In fact this theory is very similar in character to Darwin’s theory. Natural selection, after all, is not a “mechanism” but an “umbrella term” that is used to characterize a certain distinctive property of the evolutionary process, namely the differential survival and reproduction (or “selection”) of different forms as a result of their functional interactions (adaptations) both internally and with their environments. It is really a theory about the trans-generational consequences of these functional interactions, though the precise causes are in every case situation-specific and infinitely varied.
In the same manner, the Synergism Hypothesis is an umbrella term that singles out a subset of the relationships that are ubiquitous in nature, namely those that produce functional synergies which have consequences for differential survival and reproduction. The thesis, then, is that synergies of various kinds have been the underlying causes of the “progressive” trend in evolution toward more complex systems, in the same sense that natural selection is a causal theory of evolution more generally. Moreover, this dynamic can also be applied to the uniquely “progressive” aspect of cultural evolution in humankind. (Needless to say, I define “progressive” in strictly functional, not normative terms.)
Among the various implications of this theory is a directive that we must focus our attention, not on genes pursuing their individual agendas in isolation from one another but on “wholes” (systems) and the relationships among them, which are inescapable features of the living world. The theory also sensitizes us to the interdependencies that are everywhere in evidence, and it helps us to identify the commonalities and differences, as well as the advantages and vulnerabilities, that are associated with these relationships. In various recent writings I have also discussed the many different kinds of synergy, as well as various qualitative aspects of synergistic phenomena, along with describing various ways of testing for synergy in any given relationship.
So, I can only hope that David Sloan Wilson will ultimately come to recognize that this theory has its uses. But then, I’m also mindful of the fact that, almost 150 years after the publication of The Origin of Species, Darwin’s theory is still hotly debated. Alas.
Thought for the day: “The tipping point;” the “perfect storm;” “the straw that broke the camel’s back;” the “bingo effect.” All are variations on the synergy theme – when more (or less) is radically different. In other words, the whole is very often not “greater than the sum of its parts,” just different.
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