Approaching ad hominem, some object that I am deceptive, because I chose this hypothesis for the purpose of hiding Adam and Eve. This is not at all the case. Rather, I proposed a hypothesis that made sense from my understanding of theology, asking rigorously if any evidence falsified it. After careful study of how ancestry works, it becomes clear that there is no evidence against this hypothesis. Genetics is like a streetlight and a telescope, giving a view of the past with tunnel vision. It did not have to be this way. The genealogical hypothesis was not motivated by the desire to “hide” evidence of Adam and Eve. It just so happens, against intuition, that most details of our genealogical past are hidden in genetics. Whatever one’s personal beliefs or motivations, the fact remains: there is no evidence for or against the one-off de novo creation of a single couple within a larger population.
After all this, in an audaciously entertaining flip, some switch over to object that these findings are just obviously true. They insist there is no real contribution here, because there is obviously no evidence against the one-off creation of a single couple in our past. Well, if this was obvious to other scientists, it would have been valuable for them to have explained this to everyone a long time ago. For over a century, the repeated claim has been that evolutionary science challenges the belief that Adam and Eve were de novo created. This evidential claim is false, rooted in a scientific misunderstanding. If the falsity of this evidential claim is obvious now, it is merely because the scientific case is clear and strong. In fact, the case is so strong that even secular scientists can agree with it, and many do.
THE GENEALOGICAL HYPOTHESIS
Where does this leave us? Most likely, if Adam and Eve existed and are recent, Adam and Eve are genetic ghosts. Even if they passed us DNA, we have no way of distinguishing their DNA from that of their neighbors. Reproductive compatibility requires very high genome similarity, so they had genomes almost exactly like ours. There is no known biological mechanism by which Adam and Eve could pass on DNA reliably to all their descendants. This leads us to several preliminary conclusions.
1. There is no genetic evidence for or against the de novo creation of Adam and Eve, or any physical refurbishment of their genomes (C, D, E).
2. Several objections to the de novo creation of Adam and Eve are resolved if God intended for their lineage to interbreed with others (D, E).
3. It would take ongoing miracles for important genetic differences to propagate to all of us, so Adam and Eve were monophyletic with those outside the Garden, with nearly identical genomes (A, B, D).
4. If God physically refurbished Adam and Eve, it suggests that God intended for their offspring to interbreed with those outside the Garden (C). This inference, perhaps, is stronger if they were de novo created (D, E).
5. There is no reason to conclude God (or the case itself) is deceptive if he de novo created of Adam and Eve in a larger population (C, E).
Table 7.1. The genealogical hypothesis survives scrutiny, returning territory to theology (E, F, G, GH). There is opportunity now to explore the theological meaning of the de novo creation of Adam and Eve and universal ancestry (D, E, G, GH), affirming monogenesis with people outside the Garden. In the genealogical science, all three dilemmas of evolutionary science are resolved.
With these five conclusions in mind, there may be most coherence in a scenario where Adam and Eve are created de novo, biologically the same as those outside the Garden (D). A model where Adam and Eve are chosen from a larger population, possibly spiritually refurbished, is certainly consistent with the evidence too (A, B). In contrast, if Adam and Eve had important biological differences that made them human, it would require ongoing miracles to propagate these differences to everyone (C, E). We should not think, therefore, that any biological differences were what made them human.
Till this point, I focused on understanding how scientific evidence presses in on the genealogical hypothesis. There may be philosophical, theological, or hermeneutical reasons for dismissing the de novo creation of Adam and Eve, but we cannot produce scientific evidence against it. The former president of BioLogos, biologist Darrel Falk, wrote in 2017,
You . . . demonstrated that science is silent on the question of Adam and Eve being ancestors of us all. It is even silent on the issue of whether Adam and Eve were created de novo in much the same way as the natural sciences are silent on whether there could have been a resurrection. I believe your contribution to the discussion has been immeasurable. . . . One can’t pin the question of Adam and Eve on science anymore. And I think that’s been your primary if not only point the whole way along.12
Careful study of the genealogical hypothesis reworks our understanding of how evolutionary science presses on the “traditional” understanding of Genesis. Adam and Eve, ancestors of us all, could have been de novo created recently, in the Middle East. The evidence does not tell us one way or another. The genealogical hypothesis survives scrutiny, returning territory to theology (table 7.1).
Larger questions start to rise. Who exactly were Adam and Eve? Why were they important? Why would descent from them become so important? These are important questions to consider later, in the final part of this book. First, however, we consider a different question: Could all “humans” arise by genealogical descent from Adam and Eve? To answer this question, we enter a different conversation about the meaning of human.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HUMANS IN SCIENCE
ENTIRELY CONSISTENT WITH THE GENETIC EVIDENCE, Adam and Eve, ancestors of us all, could have been de novo created in the Middle East. As long as their offspring eventually interbred with people outside the Garden, it is possible as recently as six thousand years ago. Perhaps they lived in the more distant past. Perhaps they were not de novo created. Perhaps they did not exist. The scientific evidence does not tell us one way or another.
Is it possible that Adam and Eve were the sole progenitors of humanity? Here, I define this term consistent with the doctrine of monogenesis, as articulated in Church traditions that will be explained in coming chapters. One explication of this doctrine teaches, precisely,
1. Every human throughout history is a direct genealogical descendant of Adam and Eve.
2. As progenitors, Adam and Eve would be the first and only humans on the globe for a time.
3. People who do not descend from Adam and Eve could have lived alongside or before them, but they would not be humans.
Could Adam and Eve be our sole progenitors, in precisely this sense? This definition, to be clear, does not match the common scientific interpretation of monogenesis, nor does it match literal parsing of the two terms. The terms sole progenitor and monogenesis do not originate as scientific terms, with scientific precision, but they are theological terms arising out of important traditions of the Church, with theological precision. To understand monogenesis within the context of these theological traditions, we have to use the definition from these traditions. Scientific interpretations of these definitions are common and might seem reasonable, but they are not the definitions relevant to our questions in theology.
Monogenesis is precisely defined. Using some precise and consistent definition of human, could monogenesis, as defined here, be affirmed in the genealogical hypothesis? Perhaps surprisingly, the answer is yes. Adam and Eve’s offspring would still interbreed with others, of course, but those outside the Garden would not be human by the same definition. With interbreeding, it is possible humans would arise by genealogical descent from a single couple within a larger population.
I am not the first person to note the divergence between the theological definitions and its common scientific interpretation.1 In this definition, and its application, we are recovering traditional doctrine of monogenesis and sole progenitorship, not making an overly clever redefinition. This move may revise our current understanding of how evolutionary science presses on Adam and Eve, but only by resisting the importation of mistaken scientific interpretation of these terms back into
the theological discourse.
It all comes down to how we define human.
In current day, we know that human extends to include all Homo sapiens across the globe, but no other creatures on earth. In fiction, however, we see other humanlike persons arise in the talking animals of The Chronicles of Narnia, The Jungle Book, and The Lion King—intelligent beings that can converse on complex topics and have lives that mirror our own. These animals all share something of the hard-to-define essence of the human condition. In science fiction, the intelligent aliens in Star Trek and Star Wars are humanlike persons too. They also share something of the human condition. We also find persons in the different versions of artificial intelligence in Blade Runner, Battlestar Galactica, Westworld, and a host of other science fiction stories. All these fictional examples might be considered philosophical “humans” or “persons” by one definition or another. They share something of the human condition, even though they do not descend from Adam, even though they are not humans quite like us. Maybe one day we will encounter intelligent aliens or, perhaps, construct conscious robots with artificial minds. If this happens, the conversation in science, philosophy, and theology will be fascinating. Until then, science fiction invites contemplation on these questions. In our current world, however, we do not currently observe humans other than Homo sapiens.
In the deep past, however, the situation is more uncertain. Which of our ancient ancestors share the human condition too? Where they human persons? Probably yes, but we are not sure exactly when or how the human mind arose. We do not know for sure how smooth of a transition it was, and if there were any large jumps or not. There is debate over the extent to which Neanderthals, Denisovans, and Homo erectus shared the human condition.
This uncertainty carries important implications for questions about Adam and Eve. Precise scientific claims about the origin of humans require a precise definition of human. Depending on our definition, we will come to different answers. Science, however, does not give us an answer to this question. It is, after all, one of the grand questions.
1. The scientific definition of human is arbitrary in many ways, with limited evidence giving us a blurred view of the distant past. Is there a clear line at any point? We cannot tell from evidence.
2. A precise definition of human is required to confidently answer questions about how humans arise. When did we first arise? How many of us were there? Depending on our definition of human, the answer will change.
3. Within science, there are multiple definitions of human, and an immense amount of debate. We cannot insist on a scientific definition of human, because there is no single agreed-on scientific definition.
4. Theologians and philosophers have autonomy to define human on their own terms, perhaps with more precision than possible in science. These definitions need not correspond tightly to scientific concepts, language, or findings.
These four points, together, demonstrate the definition of human is important. The theological definition, moreover, can be determined without reference to taxonomical categories in science, and might be much more precise than possible in science. This clears up immense space for theological reflection and progress. As we will see in coming chapters, some definitions of human in theology would show all humans arising recently by genealogical descent from a single progenitor couple.
BLURRED VIEW OF THE PAST
Defining human remains a fundamental challenge of origins. Today, it is very easy to tell the difference between human and beast. In the distant past, however, those engaged with the evidence struggle to identify a precise line. As Darwin wrote,
Whether primeval man, when he possessed very few arts of the rudest kind, and when his power of language was extremely imperfect, would have deserved to be called man, must depend on the definition which we employ. In a series of forms graduating insensibly from some ape-like creature to man as he now exists, it would be impossible to fix on any definite point when the term “man” ought to be used.2
What is the reason for ambiguity in the past, and what are its consequences? We do not know where to draw the line, and we do not have a way of adjudicating who is right or wrong. We might decide by convention or fiat, for example, that the Homo genus are humans. The certainty of this declaration, however, is incongruent with our inability to determine precisely which remains are Homo or not. As Ian Tattersall, paleoanthropologist, explains, there is a problem with defining human as the Homo genus: “Scientists are still arguing vehemently over which ancient fossil human relatives should be included in the genus Homo. And they are doing so in the absence of any coherent idea of what the genus that includes our species Homo sapiens might reasonably be presumed to contain.”3
It is not likely these arguments will resolve any time soon. Many scientists argue we are a chronospecies.4 This is a technical term meaning that it appears our ancestors seem to exhibit a smooth transition of forms over time.5 Though there likely were distinct subpopulations, they were frequently interbreeding.6 Defining human as the Homo genus, or Homo sapiens, does not settle the question. The same problems arise for any taxonomic definition we might choose. Systematic study of taxonomical distinctions among our ancestors shows that attempts to draw sharp lines based on evidence are usually arbitrary and driven by subjective judgments.7 Perhaps there are sharp lines in the past. It is, however, an empirical fact of human origins that we cannot agree on where those sharp lines are found. There are two possible reasons for this blurred disagreement.
On the one hand, there may not be a clear line. As we go back in time, there may be an imperceptibly smooth transition between our current form and other types of human. We can loosely identify many important biological and cultural shifts, spread out from 2.5 million to 5,000 years ago, all of which are important when defining what it means to be human. Perhaps humans gradually come into being during this time.
On the other hand, there may be a clear line, but we cannot see it clearly. The record of our past is too blurry. Our knowledge is limited to looking at bones, artifacts, and genomes from the distant past. Only a tiny fraction of those who have lived in the past left remains that we have found. These remains are scattered across the globe, leaving large gaps in our knowledge. At times we have found clues to the abilities of our ancestors, but language does not fossilize. Soft tissue, usually, is almost entirely absent. It is possible that there was a sharp transition at some point in the past, but the archaeological and fossil record does not have sufficient resolution to make this clear.
It is incorrect to understand this blur as a problem with evolution. The uncertainty, instead, is a consequence of ambiguous evidence, which induces parallel debates in both evolutionary and creation science. Many old-earth creationists and evolutionary creationists define humans as Homo sapiens, but this is far from a settled debate.8 Even then, there is unresolvable debate over the classification of individual ancient remains as Homo sapiens or not,9 and whether Neanderthal or Homo erectus are “human” too.10 Some consider the whole Homo genus as human, but this uncovers a different unresolvable debate over the classification of individual ancient remains.11 Young-earth creationists also have difficulty drawing lines between ape and human, debating the same ambiguity in the fossil record.12 Likewise, some models identify only a subset of Homo sapiens as human, as we understand them today, which uncovers unresolvable debates about when behaviorally modern humans or agriculture arose.13
Scientists are often opinionated about this topic. We, nonetheless, are unable to establish from evidence a confident definition of human. This is exactly what we expect if we are a chronospecies, with a smooth transition of forms. This, also, does not rule out a sharp line, for example, in the origin of language, which does not fossilize. Precise definitions require sharp distinguishing features, identifiable in evidence. Sharp distinctions could exist, but we are not able to identify them through the blurry limitations of the evidence. For this reason, there is no consensus in science on a precise definition of huma
n. There may never be one.
CONFIDENT ANSWERS REQUIRE PRECISE DEFINITIONS
Confident scientific conclusions are unsettled by poorly defined taxonomic categories. Yes, our ancestors appear to rise as a population, and it appears that we also share ancestry with the great apes. We cannot, however, extrapolate these conclusions about our ancestors as a whole to humans without precisely defining the term. When do humans arise? Do they arise as a population or a single couple? Is there a sharp discontinuity at any point in the human lineage? Science cannot say for sure, not without a definition with far more precision than our blurry vision allows.
When do humans arise in our past? It all depends on the precise definition we use. If we mean Homo sapiens, we arise sometime between 100,000 to 350,000 years ago. If we mean the genus Homo, we arise sometime between 2.5 and 1.8 million years ago. Even these answers are unstable, and subject to intractable debates about how to define each taxonomical category. For this reason, science cannot, does not, and will not tell us when in history humans arise.
Do humans arise as a population or as a single couple? The scientific answer depends on our definition. If we mean Homo sapiens, it appears that the answer is no. There seems to be strong evidence that our ancestors never dip down to a single couple at a point when Homo sapiens first appear. The definition of Homo sapiens, however, is not settled in the distant past. It is possible (but unlikely) that Homo sapiens, by some precise definition, arise as a single couple within a larger population. This is unlikely, but only because the scientific criteria for defining Homo sapiens is not precise. Going back further, the details are even more murky. The same difficulty applies to any taxonomical category, and the difficulty grows as we move back father in time.
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