Varying reproductive outcomes – also known as “natural selection” – lead to changes in individual traits and characteristics across a population. These changes arise from two sources: varying genomes and varying developmental histories.
Suppose twins with identical DNA get separated at birth. Suppose one receives plenty of nourishment and a kind and caring upbringing, while the other is starved of both food and love. Their reproductive outcomes could certainly differ, not due to DNA but rather due to their differing surroundings and circumstances. They were apparently equally “fit” at birth. But they already differed at birth: they had gestated in different locations or orientations inside the womb, and one of them was born before the other and therefore is technically the older. Each exists outside the other’s enveloping membrane, inside the other’s surroundings and circumstances, inside the other’s environment.
No two things, living or not, are 100% identical. In fact, the identical twins’ DNA almost certainly differed in at least one base pair (out of about 3 billion total) because of an unrepaired DNA replication error or because of a mutation from radiation or chemicals. Chances are that such a tiny difference will have no effect – but it could have arbitrarily large consequences, maybe lifelong brilliance, or maybe early death. This is the very definition of complexity: tiny differences or changes can cause radically different results. Usually they don’t, but they can. No one can predict with certainty, except in highly negative cases such as known-critical defects in certain genes.
Suppose the older twin had the positive early life and had healthy children, but the younger had no children. Suppose also that the twins’ genomes did differ at least slightly, almost certainly the case. After the twins’ lives have played out, the population will have changed in its overall genetic composition: something in the older twin’s DNA was passed on, while something in the younger’s disappeared.
The crucial question is this: Did adaptation occur with these twins? Before an answer, some discussion.
Things absolutely could have gone a different way. The blessed older twin might have had no children while the challenged younger did – probably you’ve known a “can’t miss” young star who came to little good, while a plucky little misfit did great. Or neither might have succeeded with children, or both might have. No one can predict reliably accurately at the start, even knowing every minute detail of the genome, every exact base pair, again except for highly negative instances. Why can we not predict? Because no one can reliably predict the details of the always-changing surroundings and circumstances, and no can accurately predict individual trajectories through them.
All evolution is co-evolution. Everything is always changing.
Informally, to “adapt” means to change in some way that achieves a better fit with the environment or the situation. Formally, it means a percentage change, across a population, in the frequency of some variant – some allele – of a particular gene that has led to more successful reproduction by organisms that have that variant.
We self-aware, spatially-cognizant, book-reading, forward-looking humans make plans to adapt, to change our persons or our groups or environments. Sometimes we succeed. We can proactively adapt. But to the best of our knowledge, no other life can proactively adapt through imagination, planning, executing and monitoring. Maybe chimpanzees and bonobos can, and maybe some birds can, but even if so it seems their behaviors are more fully instinctual, less based on persistent knowledge, and less self-aware than our behaviors.
So: No adaptation occurred with the twins. Not in the informal sense anyway.
The older twin did not adapt. The twins’ population did not adapt. The only thing that happened was that the younger twin did not have children, and therefore some of his/her DNA was subtracted from the population’s pool.
Carry this reasoning through generations of any kind of life. In no (non-human) cases do individual organisms proactively adapt genetically. Populations seem to adapt, but that’s an illusion built from our own inner experiences. We observe what seems to be adaptation by other organisms. Adaptation exists in our minds, not in life itself. Populations and individuals do tend to improve in a slow-changing environment, to increase in fitness, to become faster or smarter or differently colored. But any such improvement might come with a hidden cost, like higher malaria resistance with vulnerability to sickle-cell anemia. The faster cheetah differentially does usually tend to get more prey and to feed her cubs better than the slower one, resulting in differential reproduction. But maybe her eyesight was compromised at the same time, so she didn’t get more prey after all. No single trait or characteristic by itself is the full and final word, except when it is severely negative and unconditionally subtractive. Beyond these we can make only statistical statements, verifiable only in hindsight.
“Natural selection” and “adaptation” are both subtractive.
Neither can be predicted reliably accurately, especially not by organisms progressing through life. “Fitness” is a statistical measure of what happened in the past. Many have addressed the tautology of Herbert Spencer’s concept of “survival of the fittest,” notably Ernst Mayr in his discussions of teleology versus teleonomy. What survives? The fittest. What does it mean to be fit? To survive. But, of course, survival is not the actual criterion – successful reproduction of viable and fertile offspring is. Life as we know it is always mortal. So far, life has been sufficiently recursive, via descent with modification, to continue. But the only guarantee we have is that eventually it will end.