(pages 1-3)

Defining and Revising the Structure of Evolutionary Theory

Theories Need Both Essences and Histories

In a famous passage added to later editions of the Origin of Species, Charles Darwin (1872, p. 134) generalized his opening statement on the apparent absurdity of evolving a complex eye through a long series of gradual steps by reminding his readers that they should always treat "obvious" truths with skepticism. In so doing, Darwin also challenged the celebrated definition of science as "organized common sense," as championed by his dear friend Thomas Henry Huxley. Darwin wrote: "When it was first said that the sun stood still and world turned round, the common sense of mankind declared the doctrine false; but the old saying of Vox populi, vox Dei [the voice of the people is the voice of God], as every philosopher knows, cannot be trusted in science."

      Despite his firm residence within England's higher social classes, Darwin took a fully egalitarian approach towards sources of expertise, knowing full well that the most dependable data on behavior and breeding of domesticated and cultivated organisms would be obtained from active farmers and husbandmen, not from lords of their manors or authors of theoretical treatises. As Ghiselin (1969) so cogently stated, Darwin maintained an uncompromisingly "aristocratic" set of values towards judgment of his work—that is, he cared not a whit for the outpourings of vox populi, but fretted endlessly and fearfully about the opinions of a very few key people blessed with the rare mix of intelligence, zeal, and attentive practice that we call expertise (a democratic human property, respecting only the requisite mental skills and emotional toughness, and bearing no intrinsic correlation to class, profession or any other fortuity of social circumstance).

      Darwin ranked Hugh Falconer, the Scottish surgeon, paleontologist, and Indian tea grower, within this most discriminating of all his social groups, a panel that included Hooker, Huxley and Lyell as the most prominent members. Thus, when Falconer wrote his important 1863 paper on American fossil elephants (see Chapter 9, pages 745-749, for full discussion of this incident), Darwin flooded himself with anticipatory fear, but then rejoiced in his critic's generally favorable reception of evolution, as embodied in the closing sentence of Falconer's key section: "Darwin has, beyond all his cotemporaries [sic], given an impulse to the philosophical investigation of the most backward and obscure branch of the Biological Sciences of his day; he has laid the foundations of a great edifice; but he need not be surprised if, in the progress of erection, the superstructure is altered by his successors, like the Duomo of Milan, from the roman to a different style of architecture."

      In a letter to Falconer on October 1, 1862 (in F. Darwin, 1903, volume 1, p. 206), Darwin explicitly addressed this passage in Falconer's text. (Darwin had received an advance copy of the manuscript, along with Falconer's request for review and criticism—hence Darwin's reply, in 1862, to a text not printed until the following year): "To return to your concluding sentence: far from being surprised, I look at it as absolutely certain that very much in the Origin will be proved rubbish; but I expect and hope that the framework will stand."

      The statement that God (or the Devil, in some versions) dwells in the details must rank among the most widely cited intellectual witticisms of our time. As with many clever epigrams that spark the reaction "I wish I'd said that!", attribution of authorship tends to drift towards appropriate famous sources. (Virtually any nifty evolutionary saying eventually migrates to T. H. Huxley, just as vernacular commentary about modern America moves towards Mr. Berra.) The apostle of modernism in architecture, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, may, or may not, have said that "God dwells in the details," but the plethora of tiny and subtle choices that distinguish the elegance of his great buildings from the utter drabness of superficially similar glass boxes throughout the world surely validates his candidacy for an optimal linkage of word and deed.

      Architecture may assert a more concrete claim, but nothing beats the extraordinary subtlety of language as a medium for expressing the importance of apparently trivial details. The architectural metaphors of Milan's cathedral, used by both Falconer and Darwin, may strike us as effectively identical at first read. Falconer says that the foundations will persist as Darwin's legacy, but that the superstructure will probably be reconstructed in a quite different style. Darwin responds by acknowledging Falconer's conjecture that the theory of natural selection will undergo substantial change; indeed, in his characteristically diffident way, Darwin even professes himself "absolutely certain" that much of the Origin's content will be exposed as "rubbish." But he then states not only a hope, but also an expectation, that the "framework" will stand.

      We might easily read this correspondence too casually as a polite dialogue between friends, airing a few unimportant disagreements amidst a commitment to mutual support. But I think that this exchange between Falconer and Darwin includes a far more "edgy" quality beneath its diplomacy. Consider the different predictions that flow from the disparate metaphors chosen by each author for the Duomo of Milan—Falconer's "foundation" vs. Darwin's "framework." After all, a foundation is an invisible system of support, sunk into the ground, and intended as protection against sinking or toppling of the overlying public structure. A framework, on the other hand, defines the basic form and outline of the public structure itself. Thus, the two men conjure up very different pictures in their crystal balls. Falconer expects that the underlying evolutionary principle of descent with modification will persist as a factual foundation for forthcoming theories devised to explain the genealogical tree of life. Darwin counters that the theory of natural selection will persist as a basic explanation of evolution, even though many details, and even some subsidiary generalities, cited within the Origin will later be rejected as false, or even illogical.

      I stress this distinction, so verbally and disarmingly trivial at a first and superficial skim through Falconer's and Darwin's words, but so incisive and portentous as contrasting predictions about the history of evolutionary theory, because my own position—closer to Falconer than to Darwin, but in accord with Darwin on one key point—led me to write this book, while also supplying the organizing principle for the "one long argument" of its entirety. I do believe that the Darwinian framework, and not just the foundation, persists in the emerging structure of a more adequate evolutionary theory. But I also hold, with Falconer, that substantial changes, introduced during the last half of the 20th century, have built a structure so expanded beyond the original Darwinian core, and so enlarged by new principles of macroevolutionary explanation, that the full exposition, while remaining within the domain of Darwinian logic, must be construed as basically different from the canonical theory of natural selection, rather than simply extended.

(pages 12-15)

The Structure of Evolutionary Theory: Revising the Three Central Features of Darwinian Logic

In the opening sentence of the Origin's final chapter (1859, p. 459), Darwin famously wrote that "this whole volume is one long argument." The present book, on "the structure of evolutionary theory," despite its extravagant length, is also a brief for an explicit interpretation that may be portrayed as a single extended argument. Although I feel that our best current formulation of evolutionary theory includes modes of reasoning and a set of mechanisms substantially at variance with strict Darwinian natural selection, the logical structure of the Darwinian foundation remains remarkably intact—a fascinating historical observation in itself, and a stunning tribute to the intellectual power of our profession's founder. Thus, and not only to indulge my personal propensities for historical analysis, I believe that the best way to exemplify our modern understanding lies in an extensive analysis of Darwin's basic logical commitments, the reasons for his choices, and the subsequent manner in which these aspects of "the structure of evolutionary theory" have established and motivated all our major debates and substantial changes since Darwin's original publication in 1859. I regard such analysis not as an antiquarian indulgence, but as an optimal path to proper understanding of our current commitments, and the underlying reasons for our decisions about them.

      As a primary theme for this one long argument, I claim that an "essence" of Darwinian logic can be defined by the practical strategy defended in the first section of this chapter: by specifying a set of minimal commitments, or broad statements so essential to the central logic of the enterprise that disproof of any item will effectively destroy the theory, whereas a substantial change to any item will convert the theory into something still recognizable as within the Bauplan of descent from its forebear, but as something sufficiently different to identify, if I may use the obvious taxonomic metaphor, as a new subclade within the monophyletic group. Using this premise, the long argument of this book then proceeds according to three sequential claims that set the structure and order of my subsequent chapters:

      1. Darwin himself formulated his central argument under these three basic premises. He understood their necessity within his system, and the difficulty that he would experience in convincing his contemporaries about such unfamiliar and radical notions. He therefore presented careful and explicit defenses of all three propositions in the Origin. I devote the first substantive chapter (number 2) to an exegesis of the Origin of Species as an embodiment of Darwin's defense for this central logic.

      2. As evolutionary theory experienced its growing pains and pursued its founding arguments in the late 19th and early 20th centuries (and also in its pre-Darwinian struggles with more inchoate formulations before 1859), these three principles of central logic defined the themes of deepest and most persistent debate—as, in a sense, they must because they constitute the most interesting intellectual questions that any theory for causes of descent with modification must address. The historical chapters of this book's first half then treat the history of evolutionary theory as responses to the three central issues of Darwinian logic (Chapters 3-7).

      3. As the strict Darwinism of the Modern Synthesis prevailed and "hardened," culminating in the overconfidences of the centennial celebrations of 1959, a new wave of discoveries and theoretical reformulations began to challenge aspects of the three central principles anew—thus leading to another fascinating round of development in basic evolutionary theory, extending throughout the last three decades of the 20th century and continuing today. But this second round has been pursued in an entirely different and more fruitful manner than the 19th century debates. The earlier questioning of Darwin's three central principles tried to disprove natural selection by offering alternative theories based on confutations of the three items of central logic. The modern versions accept the validity of the central logic as a foundation, and introduce their critiques as helpful auxiliaries or additions that enrich, or substantially alter, the original Darwinian formulation, but that leave the kernel of natural selection intact. Thus, the modern reformulations are helpful rather than destructive. For this reason, I regard our modern understanding of evolutionary theory as closer to Falconer's metaphor, than to Darwin's, for the Duomo of Milan—a structure with a firm foundation and a fascinatingly different superstructure. (Chapters 8-12, the second half of this book on modern developments in evolutionary theory, treat this third theme.)

      Thus, one might say, this book cycles through the three central themes of Darwinian logic at three scales—by brief mention of a framework in this chapter, by full exegesis of Darwin's presentation in Chapter 2, and by lengthy analysis of the major differences and effects in historical (Part 1) and modern critiques (Part 2) of these three themes in the rest of the volume.

      The basic formulation, or bare-bones mechanics, of natural selection is a disarmingly simple argument, based on three undeniable facts (overproduction of offspring, variation, and heritability)* and one syllogistic inference (natural selection, or the claim that organisms enjoying differential reproductive success will, on average, be those variants that are fortuitously better adapted to changing local environments, and that these variants will then pass their favored traits to offspring by inheritance). As Huxley famously, and ruefully, remarked (in self-reproach for failing to devise the theory himself), this argument must be deemed elementary (and had often been formulated before, but in negative contexts, and with no appreciation of its power—see p. 137), and can only specify the guts of the operating machine, not the three principles that established the range and power of Darwin's revolution in human thought. Rather, these three larger principles, in defining the Darwinian essence, take the guts of the machine, and declare its simple operation sufficient to generate the entire history of life in a philosophical manner that could not have been more contrary to all previous, and cherished, assumptions of Western life and science.

      The three principles that elevated natural selection from the guts of a working machine to a radical explanation of the mechanism of life's history can best be exemplified under the general categories of agency, efficacy, and scope. I treat them in this specific order because the logic of Darwin's own development so proceeds (as I shall illustrate in Chapter 2), for the most radical claim comes first, with assertions of complete power and full range of applicability then following.

      AGENCY. The abstract mechanism requires a locus of action in a hierarchical world, and Darwin insisted that the apparently intentional "benevolence" of nature (as embodied in the good design of organisms and the harmony of ecosystems) flowed entirely as side-consequences of this single causal locus, the most "reductionistic" account available to the biology of Darwin's time. Darwin insisted upon a virtually exceptionless, single-level theory, with organisms acting as the locus of selection, and all "higher" order emerging, by the analog of Adam Smith's invisible hand, from the (unconscious) "struggles" of organisms for their own personal advantages as expressed in differential reproductive success. One can hardly imagine a more radical reformulation of a domain that had unhesitatingly been viewed as the primary manifestation for action of higher power in nature—and Darwin's brave and single-minded insistence on the exclusivity of the organismic level, although rarely appreciated by his contemporaries, ranks as the most radical and most distinctive feature of his theory.

      EFFICACY. Any reasonably honest and intelligent biologist could easily understand that Darwin had identified a vera causa (or true cause) in natural selection. Thus, the debate in his time (and, to some extent, in ours as well) never centered upon the existence of natural selection as a genuine causal force in nature. Virtually all anti-Darwinian biologists accepted the reality and action of natural selection, but branded Darwin's force as a minor and negative mechanism, capable only of the headsman's or executioner's role of removing the unfit, once the fit had arisen by some other route, as yet unidentified. This other route, they believed, would provide the centerpiece of a "real" evolutionary theory, capable of explaining the origin of novelties. Darwin insisted that his admittedly weak and negative force of natural selection could, nonetheless, under certain assumptions (later proved valid) about the nature of variation, act as the positive mechanism of evolutionary novelty—that is, could "create the fit" as well as eliminate the unfit—by slowly accumulating the positive effects of favorable variations through innumerable generations.

      SCOPE. Even the most favorably minded of contemporaries often admitted that Darwin had developed a theory capable of building up small changes (of an admittedly and locally "positive" nature as adaptations to changing environments) within a "basic type"—the equivalent, for example, of making dogs from wolves or developing edible corn from teosinte. But these critics could not grasp how such a genuine microevolutionary process could be extended to produce the full panoply of taxonomic diversity and apparent "progress" in complexification of morphology through geological time. Darwin insisted on full sufficiency in extrapolation, arguing that his microevolutionary mechanism, extended through the immensity of geological time, would be fully capable of generating the entire pageant of life's history, both in anatomical complexity and taxonomic diversity—and that no further causal principles would be required.

      

       *Two of these three ranked as "folk wisdom" in Darwin's day and needed no further justification—variation and inheritance (the mechanism of inheritance remained unknown, but its factuality could scarcely be doubted). Only the principle that all organisms produce more offspring than can possibly survive—superfecundity, in Darwin's lovely term—ran counter to popular assumptions about nature's benevolence, and required Darwin's specific defense in the Origin.

Reference
Gould, S.J. 2002. The Structure of Evolutionary Theory. 1433 pp. The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Cambridge, MA.


 

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