Monday, October 19, 2009





Evolution is a more dramatic process then we might imagine watching it, as we do, through the filtered lens of the fossil record. Extremes are dampened out by regression to the mean and balanced selective pressures lend themselves to a net rate of change that is typically slow and subtle. There are exceptions though, and they often result from the powerful direct impact of sexual attributes on selection.
Skeletons of the magnificent Irish Elk, a true deer with spectacular antlers as wide as 4 meters, have been dug up from bogs for years. Originally from Siberia, they roamed the Irish countryside 12 thousand years ago. As they were almost too big for defense the striking antler size represents a clear departure from nature's conservative tendencies and a classic evolutionary Catch 22.
Big antlers may have proven to be the deer equivalent of a Red Ferrari. As a major determinant of dominance, antler size was probably strongly selected for in a social animal where the dominant male does ALL the breeding. Bigger animals do tend to have proportionally greater size in all attributes, but these antlers were extreme.
Then the climate changed, fast. The grasslands gave way to thicket and forest. Those big antlers that once got you laid, now got you killed. They impeded your escape from predators, hampered your movement across the land, and simply cost too much to carry in the end. Smaller antlers still didn't impress the ladies. The last of these massive deer disappeared 9000 years ago.
I think about the Irish Elk frequently. There is a good lesson here and many places in modern life where it can be applied. There is power, allure, and safety in size, whether you're a deer, the dominant primate, or a Mortgage Bank. It makes sense to invest a disproportionate amount of your resources where you think they will do the most good. But the climate will always change one day and when it does it may prove true that the meek will inherit the earth.
Our weighty human brain rivals those antlers of the Irish Elk. It has been our most adaptive feature * . Cleverness has seen us through innumerable perils over the millennium and cleverness, of a romantic nature, is often rewarded by natural selection. Lately though, these last 50 thousand years, that brain seems to have grown, as Vonnegut would say, too big for our own good. Brains so massive may prove maladaptive in the end. Looking only at our numbers on the planet one might argue that we are a great success story. Like too many lemmings on the tundra, however, success ultimately sets the stage for collapse. Ever bigger antlers presage your downfall. Pandemic and conflict over failing resources may ultimately bring grim Malthusian predictions to pass.
Could this explain the ultimate success of a future species of human who, like myself, will prove to be disorganized, forgetful, and fairly clueless? Might the grave predictions made by my teachers, ex-girlfriends, and even my own children about my destiny actually prove to be the outline of salvation for humanity? Am I the progenitor of the next generation of man, rendered harmless to his fellow creatures by a shrinking cortex?
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* Dry climatic periods lead to more dust in the air. Ocean sediments sampled off East Africa dating back several million years show an unexpected, and highly variable size in successive layers, each respresenting variations in climate over thousands of years. This finding speaks against a steadily drying climate and the stable savanna conditions that were theorized to have pulled our ancestors out of the trees and on to two legs. Instead, it was very dramatic climate changes, back and forth, and the adaptive stresses they caused that may have led to the massive cortex we lug around today, upright on two legs. Change and competition are the driving forces of evolution. The take-home message here: Brains, not brawn.
ACROCINUS

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