<http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2002/04/14/RV119833.DTL>


A Darwinian leap
Stephen Jay Gould proposes that catastrophes triggered mass changes in species
viewed by David Perlman, Chronicle Science Editor
Sunday, April 14, 2002
�2002 San Francisco Chronicle

URL: 
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2002/04/14/RV119833.DTL
 




The Structure of Evolutionary Theory

By Stephen Jay Gould

BELKNAP/HARVARD; 1,433 PAGES; $39.95



       Charles Darwin published the first edition of "The Origin of 
Species" in 1859, and in my own copy of his sixth and final edition, the 
great scientist refined his revolutionary theory of natural selection and 
added details to his compilation of the evidence for it -- all in a modest 
book of 338 pages. With Darwinian diffidence he called it an "abstract."

       Now comes Stephen Jay Gould, the Harvard paleontologist, to boldly 
redefine Darwin in light of what the world has learned from more than 150 
years of progress in genetics, molecular biology and the fossil record.

       It has taken Gould 20 years to do it, and he clearly intends his 
magnum opus to be both a tribute to Darwin and a definitive (for now, at 
least) declaration of a new and much more complex version of how species 
actually have emerged again and again since life began on Earth.

       Fascinating, discursive, dogmatic, intensely personal and often 
quite technical, "The Structure of Evolutionary Theory" is also in most of 
its sections readily accessible to lay readers -- and well worth the effort.

       With more than 1,400 pages and a bibliography of 1,000-plus entries, 
this summation of Gould's idiosyncratic life work will undoubtedly arouse 
tremendous enthusiasm in loyal Gouldites and scathing denunciation from 
those who, in the internecine warfare that has characterized debates over 
the mechanisms of evolution, condemn his science as shallow, slipshod and 
derivative, and himself as churlish, arrogant and boastful.

       Essential to Gould's thinking on evolution for the past 30 years is 
the concept he has called "punctuated equilibrium," the idea that evolution 
does not proceed along an infinitely slow course where, as Darwin saw it, 
individual organisms change and new species emerge in response to 
environmental pressures that weed out the unfit through a kind of 
Malthusian "survival of the fittest" and preserve the organisms best 
adapted to new environments.

       But Darwin, ever the uniformitarian, conceded that huge gaps in the 
fossil record of his time posed the most crucial threat to his gradualist 
picture of natural selection. In 1972, Gould and his colleague Niles 
Eldredge, now at New York's American Museum of Natural History, published 
an influential paper that in effect saw those gaps in the fossil record as 
what Gould calls "valuable information rather than frustrating failure."

       Fossils in long-buried sediments of the Devonian period in Michigan, 
for example, established that primitive, clamlike brachiopods remained 
unchanged for countless thousands of years, and that in fact no 
intermediate fossil forms at all lay between those species and the new and 
very different brachiopod species that succeeded them after a major "mass 
extinction" killed off 90 percent of all living species some 367 million 
years ago.

       Thus, Eldredge and Gould concluded that "stasis is data," and that 
instead of Darwin's minute adaptational changes in individual organisms, 
evolution must proceed by huge leaps and bounds, with species remaining 
unchanged for long periods of time until some major event, most probably 
environmental and quite possibly global, creates an opening for entirely 
new species to emerge in very brief bursts.

       (Caveat lector: In the world of paleontology, "short" and "long" 
don't mean what we think they mean. A short burst to geologists can mean 
many thousands of years; a long period can be many millions.)

       Thus, the phenomenon of mass extinction is a key driver for 
evolution, as Gould maintains, and there have been at least five such 
events since life emerged on Earth nearly 4 billion years ago, all acting 
on entire arrays of species and genera.

       In an exceptionally clear narrative, for example, Gould discusses 
the extinction of the world's dinosaurs about 65 million years ago, as the 
late Luis Alvarez, the Berkeley Nobel laureate in physics, and his son, 
geologist Walter Alvarez, revealed more than 20 years ago. That extinction 
began when a gigantic comet or asteroid hit Earth during the boundary 
between the Cretaceous and Tertiary geologic periods, and all the dinosaurs 
(except the birds, of course) vanished rapidly along with a major part of 
the world's marine species.

       Earth's newly emptied ecological niches then speedily filled with 
new emerging species, and -- it should be a joy to us humans -- there was 
plenty of room for mammals and ultimately our own hominid ancestors to fill 
the space.

       Africa's once geologically violent rift valley, for example, created 
by ancient tectonic forces of volcanism and earthquakes, may well be the 
reason that hominids began there when our early lineage separated from the 
apes 5 to 8 million years ago.

       So to Gould mass extinctions are at least one key to the "punctuated 
equilibrium" concept, which has led Gould's naysayers -- particularly the 
so-called creation scientists and proponents of "intelligent design" -- to 
insist in spurious triumph that Gould denies Darwin, when in fact Gould 
does anything but.

       "My love of Darwin and the power of his genius" is a recurrent theme 
in this massive book, but -- and it's typical of Gould -- he adds that "I 
honor Darwin's struggles as much as his successes, and I focus on his few 
weaknesses as entry points for needed revision," and declares with a flash 
of effulgence:

       "Clearly I do not honor Darwin by hagiography, if only because such 
obsequious efforts would make any honest character cringe (and would surely 
cause Darwin to spin in his grave, thus upsetting both the tourists in 
Westminster Abbey and the adjacent bones of Isaac Newton)."

       If Gould is noted (or infamous) for curmudgeonly self-importance and 
a refusal to concede the possibility of error, one of many footnotes and 
incidents attests to his often-overlooked ability to be modest:

       "I engaged in long and vociferous arguments with my graduate 
students . . . about the criteria of species selection," he recalls. "I now 
believe that they were right, and I was wrong."

       Gould's detailed arguments and scholarly exegesis of the historical 
literature on evolution's forebears and conflicts fully justify the length 
of this book. But the nuggets of Gould, the literate and rambunctious 
scientist, give it delicious flavor on page after page.

       One zoologist's work, for example, Gould brands "insufferably self- 
indulgent" but he immediately backtracks to call the same work "adequately 
justified." He pays tribute again and again to "Darwin's continued, 
pervasive relevance"; and while attacking those who attack Eldredge and him 
for "our trickery, our bombast, our dishonesty, (and) our quest for 
personal fame," he declares in the typical Gould prose that is a constant 
delight in this truly scientific tome:

       "As arrogant as I may be in general, I am not sufficiently doltish 
or vainglorious to imagine that I can meaningfully address the deep 
philosophical questions embedded within this general inquiry of our 
intellectual ages."

       This is a brilliant, controversial, thorough and immensely readable 
updating of Darwin. Yet the reader may well ask, "But what does Gould 
really believe?" One cannot know, and Gould eschews belief in favor of 
evidence. Deep down, one hopes, Gould's secret night thoughts might just 
parallel those of Ursula Goodenough, the distinguished cell biologist who 
supports him and links her own belief in both religion and science to 
declare in "The Sacred Depths of Nature":

       "The continuation of life reaches around, grabs its own tail, and 
forms a sacred circle that requires no further justification, no Creator, 
no superordinate meaning of meaning, no purpose other than that the 
continuation continue until the sun collapses or the final meteor collides. 
I confess a credo of continuation."

       �2002 San Francisco Chronicle

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