Evolution from a Progressive, Historical Perspective

It’s a funny thing how a positive experience can make you feel personally cheated. Yesterday our class started a unit on evolution, but unlike other classes that teach evolution starting from the end, we started from the beginning. Everyone has heard of the Beagle’s voyage before, has heard of the different finches on the different islands that have the different beaks to find different food. Everyone knows the basics behind Darwin’s theory of natural selection, and nowadays, “good” science classes will address evolution and then transition into basic genetics, dipping into what we now know about heredity to further bolster evolution’s credibility. But that’s really only half the story, if that. A much clearer picture of evolution can be painted when you take a step back and observe the historical progression that lead to Darwin’s discovery of natural selection. Basically, over the past couple days, I have truly come to appreciate the value of studying the history of science.

One shortcoming of how evolution is usually taught is that Darwin is not examined closely enough. He didn’t just sail to the Galapagos and notice that similar species on the different islands resembled one another, and immediately realize they must have adapted to their different environments and evolved from a common ancestor. People had been to the Galapagos before, had observed animals there and elsewhere that resembled one another, but had not been struck by any ideas concerning the origins of biodiversity. Darwin had specific influences that helped him develop a particular mindset that made him to see the world differently. He was a student of geology, perhaps not formally, but certainly in his personal studies. He read the works of Lyell, a leading geologist at the time, and applied what he learned to thinking about how the land he observed while aboard the Beagle had formed. Geology theorized how the earth changed over time, and emphasized how gradual changes over a long period could accumulate and culminate in dramatic and massive formations. The ideas of gradual change central to geology helped Darwin look at nature progressively, which allowed him to see the relationships between different plants and animals that most men would miss. Darwin had also developed an interest in nature from a close friendship with a professor of botany, John Henslow, and decided to collect specimens from the different places the Beagle made port. Influenced by other books, such as Malthus’s “Essay on the Principle of Population,” and through close inspection of the specimens he had collected during his travels on the Beagle, he began to devise his theory of natural selection. But once again, one should step back and consider the theories on natural origins that preceded natural selection, that had laid a foundation for someone like Darwin to improve upon.

I’m not sure how widespread this problem is internationally, but in the United States, there is a surprising, actually shocking number of people who do not believe in evolution by natural selection, and most of that population does not believe in evolution at all. There are many that are bitter that creationism, under the name intelligent design, is not taught in science class as an alternate theory to evolution, or even in its place. Creationism does not belong in science class. The thought is ridiculous, the argument for it baseless, but whether we like it or not, a problem still exists. The way we teach evolution in schools is not the best way to convince someone that is deeply religious and indoctrinated by creationism of its legitimacy. Facts can be dismissed or ignored, evidence disregarded, proof met with distrust. But logic can be more convincing and harder to resist. After having now sat through a few classes that have taken a historical approach to teaching evolution, I feel very confident that there is a better way to reach our kids, and especially, to reach those who would otherwise remain skeptical of evolution and of the scientific method.

We don’t have to teach intelligent design to engage the super religious on familiar ground. I said our course started teaching evolution from the beginning. The story starts, I think, with natural theology. Natural theology arose after the scientific revolution, when men of science decided that, through close inspection of the world around them, they could better understand God by better understanding his creations. As geologists began to postulate how the earth’s surface had changed over time, and had begun to investigate the different strata of the crust, uncovering, in the process, different layers of rock and fossils distinct amongst the different strata, they sought to rationalize their observations with scripture. Many believed in two books, the book of God’s words, the bible, and the book of God’s works, the world and everything God had supposedly created. After it had been observed that there were distinct layers of crust that housed distinct fossils, a theory arose. It seemed to many that the earth’s strata could be explained by historical catastrophes. Some believed that Noah’s flood had washed over the earth and formed sedimentary layers, which would have included the remains of plants and animals that had inhabited the earth at the time. Still others, young earth creationists, believed that the world was 6000 years old, and that God, when he creates a mountain or a bird or a man, must create it with the illusion of age. They argued that God created everything, including the stratified crust and fossils, in the 6 days of creation, amounting to 6000 years as we perceive time. But this theory had a problem. People, especially geologists and other natural theologians, could not accept that God would have “created lies” by creating arbitrary fossils for man to discover and investigate. And slowly, the catastrophism that natural theologians had adopted, and that had been extended to rationalize Noah flood, began to die out. The earth’s surface was too complex. As geologists made more and more discoveries, and developed a clearer and clearer picture of how the earth’s surface had come to look the way it did, they could no longer fool themselves into thinking Noah’s flood belonged in the picture. Geologists adopted a theory of the ongoing, gradual changes of earth’s landforms, called uniformitarianism. Lyell, a pioneer uniformitarian, wrote a book called “Principles of Geology,” a book that influenced the way Darwin looked at the world greatly. I think we’ve heard the story from here.

For the sake of conciseness, I have tried to simplify the progression that I have just described. I may not have done a fabulous job, by my point is that great thinkers and investigators of the natural world set out initially to better understand God through his works. But over time, and after much observation and excavation, it seems natural theologians had learned too much. There was a point where they could no longer fool themselves into thinking that the world they lived in reflected what the scripture told them of the world’s origin. A lot more can be said about natural theology, and a stronger case can be made for why it was slowly replaced by the objective study of the natural world, omitting the consideration of God’s words. Over the past few days, I may have developed an interest in becoming the person who does.

I had never encountered natural theology in middle or high school. This week was the first time I had ever really heard of it. And it blows me away that in 2 days with Professor Durant, I feel like I learned more about Evolution and its origins than I did in 12 years of public schooling. It’s a disgrace, a testament to the lack of attentiveness or competence of whoever’s in charge of writing up public school curriculums. Religion has a huge influence over the majority of Americans. A commonly referenced poll states that 60% of Americans don’t believe in evolution, despite the fact that it’s taught in school, and education is compulsory in our country. So there are two problems. The first is that kids are indoctrinated by lies and told before they ever enter the classroom not to buy into the evidence presented for evolution. This is a problem we can’t do much about. The second problem is the way we teach evolution in school. We don’t teach it convincingly enough to reach an audience that is unwilling to listen. But this problem, I believe, we can do something about. The kids that will not listen to lessons on evolution starting with Darwin are the same kids that, I believe, would be very attentive if we were to teach natural theology from a historical perspective. I’m sure that the intentions of the natural theologians would resonate well with the super religious, and if teachers were to then present a convincing argument for why natural theology was eventually replaced by biology, geology, and evolution, making sure to present the evolution of how classical thinkers viewed the world around them in a progressive, systematic way, kids that may have otherwise shut their ears from the start may be reached. What we do now in our schools is not working. My idea is just that, an idea. But I think, at the very least, it’s time for somebody to propose a new lesson plan.

I feel rather strongly about this, and am considering doing some research and mapping out a more comprehensive picture of the origins of objective thought, reason, and the evolution of the way man viewed the world around him from the scientific revolution to Darwin. I want to try to put together a lesson plan for the way I think evolution should be taught in school, compiling the most important historical figures and events I can find to formulate the most convincing argument for the legitimacy of evolution that I can. I now believe the key to teaching evolution effectively lies in the acknowledgement of theories that preceded it, theories that illustrate that evolution is more grounded in evidence and logic than they were. There’s a reason why evolution replaced natural theology and was accepted as the single legitimate explanation for the observed biodiversity on our planet. Let’s remind our children of that reason.

Lessons of the Royal College of Physicians

As promised, I’d like to write a little about what I learned at the Royal College of Physicians in Edinburgh, but let me first describe how great the actual building was. The rooms were grand, high ceilinged, and adorned with intricate moldings, beautiful portraits, and in the libraries, extremely impressive book cases filled with volumes upon volumes of medical journals, the most precious of which were kept in the lower levels of the college to minimize degradation from humidity. Really not enough can be said about the beauty of these rooms. Between the artistic pillars (which we later found out were not actually made of marble, but of wood, since marble is much heavier and could have fallen through the floor), the grand murals painted on the ceilings, and the engraved wood framing the rooms themselves, this building was utter perfection.

Now that I’ve got that out of my system, what really made our tour of the college great was out tour guide, Morrice McCrae. He had just written a book on James Young Simpson, an early pioneer of chloroform as an anesthetic, and was super knowledgeable on all things simpsonian. He had a lot to say, and a lot of advice to give. Here are just a few things that I learned at the royal college of physicians:

1. Our Preoccupation with curing patients is a recent phenomenon.

Physicians in the nineteenth century and earlier wanted to see their patients trough their illnesses more so than cure them. They could do small things for them: make sure they continued to eat and drink, encourage plenty of rest, in some cases they would draw blood via leeches or a surgeon, etc. But for the most part, physicians were interested in letting disease run its course, and observing what sorts of symptoms would arise and digress over time.


2. Make money off of text books by publishing them in Spanish.

One of the more practical things our guide told us was, if any of us was ever to write and publish a textbook, getting it published in Spanish could yield big bucks. He told us that a few other historians he worked with had written textbooks, and that their best customers were in South America. And this was a good tip, because I know it’s not the easiest thing in the world to make money off of a textbook in the US. I’ll try to keep this little nugget of information in the back of my mind just in case.



3. Smokers have no excuse.

In a glass display case there was a 17th century text warning young people of the dangers of smoking. So if the knowledge that smoking was bad for you has been around for over 300 years, WHY THE HELL DO PEOPLE STILL SMOKE! Sorry, I had to get that out.


4. Little Miss Muffett was based on some doctor that liked ground up spiders.

Also in a glass display case, there was a book opened to a page about a Dr. Muffett, who used to make medicines that always included ground up spiders as an ingredient. According to our guide, Dr. Muffett was the inspiration behind the children’s rhyme, Little Miss Muffett.


5. Simpson got his ideas out there.

Finally we get to Simpson. Clearly when you take a tour and your tour guide is an expert on something, the most interesting thing you learn will probably be about that something. I have noticed something about historically significant men in medicine as we have looked at more and more of them: People that are remembered for making breakthroughs in medicine always find a way to get their ideas to the public. Edward Jenner was not the first person to observe that people that caught cow pox were later immune to small pox. Physicians in the country had been well aware of that fact long before Jenner decided to confirm the observation and popularize it. When Edward Jenner first wrote to the Royal Society about cowpox and a potential smallpox vaccine, he was told to drop his investigation if he valued his reputation. Rather than back down, he performed more experiments, wrote up a comprehensive manuscript of his findings, and published it himself. Now, he is remembered as “the Father of Inoculation,” and he has his initiative to blame for his success.

Simpson, in much the same way, made sure to make his ideas known to the public. The medical community was not very receptive to his backing of chloroform as an anesthetic, but Simpson was used to dealing with opposition. He had already started his own journal to publish his own papers so that he would not have to rely on the approval of other publishers. This way, he could get information to the public, and he knew if he had the public on his side, the scientific community would not be able to stifle his ideas. After having experimented with chloroform, he wrote a pamphlet describing its potential, published it, and got a friend to distribute it to the public of Edinburgh. It was sold on the streets for six pence, so it was accessible to just about everyone. Simpson didn’t talk down to his public audience either; the pamphlet was written in very scientific terms and, since Edinburgh was at the time the most literate place in the world, since it was one of the first places to institute compulsory education so that everyone would be able to read the bible, the people of Edinburgh were exposed to the meat of Simpson’s findings. Of course, the prospect of eliminating pain in childbirth attracted great attention, and the medical community was unable to stand against public enthusiasm. So Simpson is remembered as a pioneer of anesthesia, because he sidestepped his opposition and made sure his message was heard.

Men that discover are not always remembered over men that take the initiative to make their findings known. Moral of the story (story being history).