(Continued from page 13)

A quantitative criterion more acceptable to biologists is fitness -- success in life. Fitness can only be measured relatively: one organism would be twice as fit as another if twice as many of its descendants have survived after a certain period. But increasing fitness turns out not to provide an overall trend for evolution, since fitness is measured not only relative to specific competitors, but also within a specific environment. Natural selection works to adapt organisms to survive and breed more and more successfully in their existing circumstances. However, circumstances -- environments -- change, and the long-term changes in evolution involve the discovery of entirely new circumstances, throwing up entirely new problems in life.
A trout is superbly adapted to life in the river, a hedgehog is ideally suited for hunting for slugs on the river bank, and a toad is not terribly good at either life-style. Yet the river may dry up or the land may flood, and only the toad will survive both emergencies. Which of the three is furthest on in the process of evolution?
Julian Huxley's answer to this question is to notice a sequence in the `dominance' of groups of animals. We read of the Age of Trilobites, the Age of Fishes, of Reptiles, of Mammals; these are the groups regarded as dominant in each epoch, and we might infer that each supplanted its predecessor owing to some superiority, and so is more advanced, perhaps more `fit'. However, the story is probably not so simple. It now seems likely, for example, that the mammals replaced the dinosaurs not by out-competing them in any sense, but because they happened to be small enough to survive an environmental catastrophe that wiped out the majority of animal species then living, including the dinosaurs. In any case, several groups are often dominant at any one time, each in its own sphere: are we now in an age of mammals, of birds, or of insects -- or of humans? There must be several lineages of dominance. (Where different types are competing, the prize probably goes to the one that can be most active. This means the type with the highest metabolic rate, which might therefore be used as a measure of progress.)
Perhaps an increasing ability to adapt to a wider range of circumstances represents a real trend. Have organisms become more adaptable over evolutionary time? The answer is yes and no: in every epoch, there have been some highly successful specialists, and some adaptable generalist species. It is usually said that the specialists enjoy a heady period of success until time deprives them of the special conditions they exploit so well. Then they die out, unable to adapt, and the new world is colonised by descendants of the generalists, many of which evolve into new specialists in new environments. The mammals perhaps survived the dinosaurs in this way.
If we look only at the best generalists in each period, we may be justified in saying that adaptability does indeed increase in each succeeding period. (The point about choosing the best in each period -- the leading edge of evolution -- seems to apply to any potential trend. There appears to be no trend in evolution which draws all organisms in its wake. Some species are highly conservative; they found a cosy role in the living world millions of years ago, and there is nothing to impel them to risk advancement. Blue-green algae scums on modern estuary muds, for example, are almost indistinguishable from fossils 2,500 million years old. We can only seek directional changes at a leading edge of evolution.)

(Continued on page 15)

 
   
     
 
     
 

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