11. I argue that the concept of cross-level spandrels vastly increases the range, power and importance of nonadaptation in evolution, and also unites the two central themes of this book by showing how the hierarchically expanded theory of selection also implies a greatly increased scope for non-adaptive structural constraint as an important factor in the potentiation of macroevolution.
Chapter 12: Tiers of time and trials of extrapolationism
1. Darwin clearly recognized the threat of catastrophic mass extinction to the extrapolationist and uniformitarian premises underlying his claim for full [Page 88] explanation of macroevolutionary results by microevolutionary causes (and not as a challenge to the efficacy of natural selection itself). Darwin therefore employed his usual argument about the imperfection of geological records to “spread out” apparent mass extinction over sufficient time for resolution by ordinary processes working at maximal rates (and therefore only increasing the intensity of selection).
2. The transition of the impact scenario (as a catastrophic trigger for the K-T extinction) from apostasy at its proposal in 1980 to effective factuality (based on the consilience of disparate evidence from iridium layers, shocked quartz and, especially, the discovery of a crater of appropriate size and age at Chicxulub) has reinstated the global paroxysms of classical catastrophism (in its genuinely scientific form, not its dismissive Lyellian caricature) as a legitimate scientific mechanism outside the Darwinian paradigm, but operating in conjunction with Darwinian forces to generate the full pattern of life's history, and not, as previously (and unhelpfully) formulated, as an exclusive alternative to disprove or to trivialize Darwinian mechanisms.
3. If catastrophic causes and triggers for mass extinction prove to be general, or at least predominant in relative frequency (and not just peculiar to the K-T event), then this macroevolutionary phenomenon will challenge the crucial extrapolationist premise of Darwinism by being more frequent, more rapid, more intense and more different in effect than Darwinian biology (and Lyellian geology) can allow. Under truly catastrophic models, two sets of reasons, inconsistent with Darwinian extrapolationism by microevolutionary accumulation, become potentially important agents of macroevolutionary patterning: effectively random extinction (for clades of low N), and, more importantly, extinction under “different rules” from reasons regulating the adaptive origin and success of autapomorphic cladal features in normal times.
4. Catastrophic mass extinction, while breaking the extrapolationist credo, may suggest an overly simplified and dichotomous macroevolutionary model based on alternating regimes of “background” vs. “mass” extinction. Rather, we should expand this insight about distinctive mechanisms at different scales into a more general model of several rising tiers of time — with conventional Darwinian microevolution dominating at the ecological tier of short times and intraspecific dynamics; punctuated equilibrium dominating at the geological tier of phyletic trends based on interspecific dynamics (with species arising in geological moments, and then treated as stable “atoms,” or basic units of macroevolution, analogous to organisms in microevolution); and mass extinction (perhaps often catastrophic) acting as a major force of overall macroevolutionary pattern in the global history of relative waxing and waning of clades. (I also contrast this preferred model of time's tiering with the other possible style of explanation, which I reject but find interesting nonetheless, for denying full generality to smooth Darwinian upward extrapolation from the lowest level — namely, an equally smooth and monistic downward extrapolation from catastrophic mortality in mass extinction to [Page 89] diminishing, but equally random and sudden, effects at all scales, as proposed in Raup's “field of bullets” model.)
5. In a paradoxical epilogue, I argue (despite my role as a longtime champion of the importance and scientific respectability of unpredictable contingency in the explanation of historical patterns) that the enlargement and reformulation of Darwinism, as proposed in this book, will recapture for general theory (by adding a distinctive and irreducible set of macroevolutionary causes to our armamentarium of evolutionary principles) a large part of macroevolutionary pattern that Darwin himself, as an equally firm supporter of contingency, willingly granted to the realm of historical unpredictability because he could not encompass these results within his own limited causal structure of strict reliance upon smooth extrapolation from microevolutionary processes by accumulation through the immensity of geological time.
A FINAL THOUGHT. May I simply end by quoting the line that I wrote at the completion of a similar abstract (but vastly shorter, in a much less weighty book) for my first technical tome, Ontogeny and Phylogeny (1977b, p. 9): “This epitome is a pitiful abbreviation of a much longer and, I hope, more subtle development. Please read the book!”
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CHAPTER TWO
The Essence of Darwinism and the
Basis of Modern Orthodoxy:
An Exegesis of the Origin of Species
A Revolution in the Small
Our theatrical and literary standards recognize only a few basic types of heroes. Most are preeminently strong and brave; some, in an occasional bone thrown to the marginal world of intellectuals, may even be allowed to triumph by brilliance. But one small section of the pantheon has long been reserved for a sideshow of improbables: the meek, the mild, the foolish, the insignificant, the ornamental — in short, for characters so disdained that they pass beneath notice and become demons of effectiveness by their invisibility. Consider the secretaries or chauffeurs who learn essential secrets because patrician bosses scarcely acknowledge their personhood and say almost anything in their presence; or the pageboys and schoolgirls who walk unnoticed through enemy lines with essential messages to partisans in conquered territories.
Though few scholars have considered the issue in this light, I would argue that the intellectual agent of Darwin's victory falls into this anomalous category. To be sure, Darwin succeeded because he devised a mechanism, natural selection that possessed an unbeatable combination of testability and truth. But, at a more general level, Darwin triumphed by allowing the formerly meek to inherit the entire world of evolutionary theory.
Darwin's theory explicitly rejected and overturned the two evolutionary systems well known in Britain during his time (see next chapter for details) — Lamarck's (via Lyell`s exegesis in the Principles of Geology) and Chambers's (in the anonymously printed Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation). Both these theories sunk a deep root in the most powerful of cultural biases by describing evolution as an interaction of two opposing forces. The first — considered dominant, intrinsic and fundamental — yielded progress on the old euphonious (and sexist) theme of “the march from monad to man.” The second — designated as secondary, diversionary and superimposed — interrupted the upward flow and produced lateral dead-ends of specialized adaptations, from eyeless moles to long necked giraffes. Darwin, in his greatest stroke of [Page 94] genius, took this secondary force, proposed a new mechanism for its operation (natural selection), and then redefined this former source for superficial tinkering as fully sufficient to render all of evolution — thus branding the separate and more exalted force of progress as illusory.
Such an argument poses an obvious logical dilemma: how can such power be granted to a force formerly viewed as so inconsequential? After all, evolution must still construct the full pageant of life's history and the entire taxonomic panorama, even if we abandon the concept of linear order. Darwin's answer records the depth of his debt to Lyell, the man more responsible than any other for shaping Darwin's basic view of nature. Time, just time! (provided that the “inconsequential” force of adaptation can work without limit, accumulating its tiny effects through geological immensity). The theory's full richness cannot be exhausted by the common statement that Darwinism presents a biological version of the “uniformitarianism” championed by Lyell for geology, but I cannot think of a m
ore accurate or more encompassing one-liner. (In a revealing letter to Leonard Horner, written in 1844, Darwin exclaimed: “I always feel as if my books came half out of Lyell's brains ... for I have always thought that the great merit of the Principles [of Geology], was that it altered the whole tone of one's mind and therefore that when seeing a thing never seen by Lyell, one yet saw it partially through his eyes” (cited in Darwin, 1987, p. 55).)
Darwin, in his struggle to formulate an evolutionary mechanism during his annus mirabilis (actually a bit more than two years) between the docking of the Beagle and the Malthusian insight of late 1838, had embraced, but ultimately rejected, a variety of contrary theories — including saltation, inherently adaptive variation, and intrinsic senescence of species (see Gruber and Barrett, 1974; Kohn, 1980). A common thread unites all these abandoned approaches: for they all postulate an internal drive based either on large pushes from variation (saltationism) or on inherent directionality of change. Most use ontogenetic metaphors, and make evolution as inevitable and as purposeful as development. Natural selection, by contrast, relies entirely upon small, isotropic, nondirectional variation as raw material, and views extensive transformation as the accumulation of tiny changes wrought by struggle between organisms and their (largely biotic) environment. Trial and error, one step at a time, becomes the central metaphor of Darwinism.
This theme of relentless accumulation of tiny changes through immense time, the uniformitarian doctrine of Charles Lyell, served as Darwin's touchstone throughout his intellectual life. Uniformitarianism provides the key to his first scientific book (Darwin, 1842) on the formation of coral atolls by gradual subsidence of oceanic islands, long continued. And the same theme defines the central subject of his parting shot (1881), a book on the formation of vegetable mould by earthworms. Darwin, for lifelong reasons of personal style, did not choose to write a summary or confessional in lofty philosophical terms, but he did want to make an exit with guns blazing on his favorite topic. Ironically, Darwin's overt subject of worms has led to a common interpretation quite opposite to his own intent — his misrepresentation as a doddering old naturalist who couldn't judge [Page 95] the difference in importance between fishbait and fomenting revolution, and who, in recognizing evolution, just happened to be in the right place at the right time. In fact, Darwin's worm book presents an artfully chosen example of the deeper principle that underlay all his work, including the discovery of evolution — the uniformitarian power of small changes cumulated over great durations. What better example than the humble worm, working literally beneath our notice, but making, grain by grain, both our best soils and the topography of England. In the preface (1881, p. 6), Darwin explicitly draws the analogy to evolution by refuting the opinions of a certain Mr. Fish (wonderful name, given the context), who denied that worms could account for much “considering their weakness and their size”: “Here we have an instance of that inability to sum up the effects of a continually recurrent cause, which has often retarded the progress of science, as formerly in the case of geology, and more recently in that of the principle of evolution.”
Darwin waxed almost messianic in advancing this theme in the Origin of Species, for he understood that readers could not grasp his argument for evolution until they embraced this uniformitarian vision with their hearts. He confessed the a priori improbability of his assertion, given the norms and traditions of western thought: “Nothing at first can appear more difficult to believe than that the more complex organs and instincts should have been perfected, not by means superior to, though analogous with, human reason, but by the accumulation of innumerable slight variations, each good for the individual possessor” (1859, p. 459). In his short concluding section on our general reluctance to accept evolution, he did not — probably for diplomatic reasons — identify specific cultural or religious barriers; instead, he spoke of our unfamiliarity with the crucial uniformitarian postulate: “But the chief cause of our natural unwillingness to admit that one species has given birth to other and distinct species, is that we are always slow in admitting any great change of which we do not see the intermediate steps . . . the mind cannot possibly grasp the full meaning of the term of a hundred million years; it cannot add up and perceive the full effects of many slight variations, accumulated during an almost infinite number of generations” (1859, p. 481).
To impress readers with the power of natural selection, Darwin continually stressed the cumulative effect of small changes. He reserved his best literary lines, his finest metaphors, for this linchpin of his argument — as in this familiar passage: “It may be said that natural selection is daily and hourly scrutinizing, throughout the world, every variation, even the slightest; rejecting that which is bad, preserving and adding up all that is good; silently and insensibly working, whenever and wherever opportunity offers, at the improvement of each organic being in relation to its organic and inorganic conditions of life. We see nothing of these slow changes in progress, until the hand of time has marked the long lapse of ages” (1859, p. 84). Examine the smallest changes and variations, Darwin almost begs us. Let nothing pass beneath your notice. Cumulate, cumulate, and cumulate:
Certainly no clear line of demarcation has as yet been drawn between species and sub-species . . .; or, again, between sub-species and [Page 96] well-marked varieties, or between lesser varieties and individual differences. These differences blend into each other in an insensible series; and a series impresses the mind with the idea of an actual passage. Hence I look at individual differences, though of small interest to the systematist, as of high importance for us, as being the first step towards such slight varieties as are barely thought worth recording in works on natural history (1859, p. 51).
I need hardly stress Darwin's impact as one of the half dozen or so most revolutionary thinkers in western history. I want, instead, to emphasize a more curious aspect of his status — his continuing relevance, indeed his benevolent hovering over almost all our current proceedings. We may revere Newton and Lavoisier as men of equal impact, but do modern physicists and chemists actively engage the ideas of these founders, as they pursue their daily work? Darwin, on the other hand, continues to bestride our world like a colossus — so much so that I can only begin this book on the structure of evolutionary theory by laying out Darwin's detailed vision as a modern starting point, a current orthodoxy only lightly modified by more than a century of work. I do, in this book, advocate some major restructuring, in the light of new concepts and findings, and with the approbation of more and more colleagues as our understanding of evolution broadens. But Darwin remains our context — and my proposed restructuring represents an extension, not a replacement, of his vision. The hierarchical theory of selection builds a world different from Darwin's in many important respects, but we do so by extending his mechanism of selection to a larger realm than he acknowledged — that is, to levels both below and above his focus on the struggle among organisms.
When Cassius spoke his words about Caesar (paraphrased above), he added his puzzlement at Caesar's extraordinary success: “Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed, that he is grown so great.” I shall argue in this chapter that Darwin's continued, pervasive relevance arises from his capacity for revolutionary innovation at two opposite poles of scientific practice — the immediate strategy of formulating a methodology for everyday research, and the most general discussion of causes and phenomena in the natural world (the questions that will not go away, and that air continually from college bull sessions, to TV talk shows, to learned treatises on the nature of things). Darwin's residence at both poles of immediate methodology and broadest theoretical generality begins with his distinctive attitude towards the central importance of daily, palpable events in nature, and their power to account for all evolution by cumulation — hence my choice of an opening topic for this chapter (see Fig. 2-1).
Caesar voiced his suspicions of Cassius, fearing men who think too
much (may all despots thus beware). But his grudging words of praise might well be invoked to epitomize the reasons for Darwin's unparalleled success: “He reads much; he is a great observer, and he looks quite through the deeds of men.”
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Darwin as a Historical Methodologist
ONE LONG ARGUMENT
An old quip, highlighting the intractability of philosophical dualism, proclaims: “what's matter? never mind; what's mind? doesn't matter.” Predarwinian evolutionary systems embodied the same kind of Catch-22, this time in painful and practical terms, destined to ensnare any budding naturalist who hoped to study organisms by direct confrontation with testable hypotheses. Lamarck's system, for example, contrasted an intrinsic force of progress with a diversionary, and clearly secondary, force of adaptation to changing local environments. The secondary process worked in the immediate here and [Page 98] now, and might be engaged empirically by studies of adaptation and heredity. But the more important primary force, the source of natural order and the ultimate cause of human mentality, lurked in the background of time's immensity, and at the inaccessible interior of the very nature of matter. This characterization creates an intolerable dilemma for anyone who holds (as Darwin did) that science must be defined as testable doing, not just noble thinking. Recalling my opening quip, Lamarck's system virtually mocked the empirical approach to science, and forestalled any growing confidence in evolution: what is important cannot be seen; what can be seen is not important.
The Structure of Evolutionary Theory Page 17
