Evolution Defanged

In this essay we will hear from several creationists and numerous evolutionists who feel that the theory of evolution deserves more careful examination. We will examine various failings of evolution, with reference to natural selection, the fossil record, and the metaphysical assumptions inherent in Darwinism. Finally, we will take a closer look at Genesis to see how much of a threat an ancient earth really poses for Creation. In the end, I hope I will at the least inspire students to think critically before accepting an idea, and ideally to empower Creationists to discuss these vitally important scientific issues without fear of embarrassment.

Natural Selection: science or fiction?

Natural selection is the adaptive mechanism which composes the bulk of Darwin’s theory of evolution. Ernst Mayr, a Harvard zoologist, bears witness to its importance: “The real core of Darwinism…is the theory of natural selection. This theory is so important for the Darwinian because it permits the explanation of adaptation, the “design” of the natural theologian, by natural means, instead of by divine intervention.”[1] Richard Dawkins, another prominent Darwinist, adds, “Adaptation cannot be produced by random drift, or by any other realistic evolutionary force that we know of save natural selection.”[2]

Natural selection being thus established as the hinge on which Darwinism turns, the question arises: does it really work? The majority of scientists seem to think so. But what evidence do they have to support their conclusion? We will take a moment to look at some of the “proofs” commonly given in favor of natural selection.

One of the most trumpeted, highly touted examples of “natural selection at work” comes from the finches studied by Darwin himself on the Galapagos Islands, which are now known as Darwin’s finches. I quote here from page 19 of the National Academy of Sciences’ Guidebook.

“A research group led by Peter and Rosemary Grant of Princeton University has shown that a single year of drought on the islands can drive evolutionary changes in the finches. Drought diminishes supplies of easily cracked nuts but permits the survival of plants that produce larger, tougher nuts. Drought thus favors birds with stronger, wide beaks that can break these tougher seeds, producing populations of birds with these traits. The Grants have estimated that if droughts occur about once every ten years on the islands, a new species of finch might arise in only about 200 years.”

Oddly enough, the authors of the Guidebook did not see fit to reproduce the title of the Grant’s 1987 paper in Nature, which was “Oscillating Selection in Darwin’s Finches”—reflective of the fact that the beaks subsided back to their normal size when the islands experienced flooding a few years later. Phillip Johnson satirized the nonsensical nature of this thinking with the following question: “If the average length of finch beaks in a population increases 5% during drought years, and droughts occur every ten years, how long will it take for the beaks to grow from an average of one inch in length to ten feet, or for finches to become eagles?”[3] One might as well ask, since beak size declined during flood years, how many years of flooding it would take to produce a beakless finch that cracks nuts by stomping on them!

The other famous textbook “proof” of natural selection involves the peppered moths of English midland forests. It seems that the light-colored moths dominated the population during the early nineteenth century, then were superseded by the darker ones during the late nineteenth century. The explanation provided by the textbooks was this: During the day, the moths rest on tree trunks, where they are preyed on by birds. While the tree trunks were light-colored, the lighter moths enjoyed better camouflage, but the darker moths gained the advantage when the trunks became darker due to industrial pollution. The lighter moths returned to dominance after England passed laws to control air pollution in the 1950’s.

Experiments were made that seemed to bear out this account: when caged moths were released onto dark tree trunks, the birds ate more of the light moths, and the dark moths increased. But in the 1970’s, biologists noticed that the proportions of light and dark moths in the wild did not correspond to bark color. Then it was discovered in the 1980’s that peppered moths do not normally rest on tree trunks. It was further revealed that all textbook photographs of peppered moths on tree trunks were made by either manual placement of live moths (which are not active during daylight hours) or by gluing dead moths to tree trunks.[4]   

Nevertheless, there are other easily observable phenomena available for the Darwinist to draw on. Vestigial organs are organs that either do not perform any function we can detect, or have been pronounced incapable of performing their original tasks. They have often been cited as evidence for evolution, as they seem to suggest organs that were in use during previous evolutionary phases and have now lost their usefulness. But oddly enough, the list of “vestigial” organs is shrinking all the time—it is only in recent years that scientists have found uses for the thyroid and pineal glands in the human body. So what does history really suggest: that certain of our organs are evolutionary throwbacks, or that we simply don’t know what they do yet?

Evolutionists Edward and Peter Dodson provide an example of the Darwinist mindset in this discussion. “When structures undergo a reduction in size together with a loss of their typical function, that is, when they become vestigial, they are commonly considered to be degenerate and functionless. Simpson has pointed out that this need not be true at all: the loss of the original function may be accompanied by specialization for a new function. Thus the wing of penguins has become reduced to a point that will not permit flight, but at the same time it has become a highly efficient paddle for swimming. The wings of rheas, ostriches and other running birds are also much reduced, and have been described as “at the most still used for the display of the decorative wing feathers.” But Simpson has observed that the rheas, when running, spread the wings and use them as balancers, especially when turning rapidly. It seems quite probable that this is true of the running birds generally.”[5]

These are fascinating observations, but it is even more fascinating that the various wings under consideration are still classified as vestigial despite their obvious functionality. If one is not bound to the evolutionary viewpoint, there is no reason to assume that these organs were ever used in any other way!

We have examined the evidence commonly given in favor of natural selection. Now let’s turn to the objections raised against it by the scientific community. Bear in mind that most of these objections come not from creationists but from evolutionists who have been unable to reconcile Darwin’s ideas with their own findings.

The first major fault found with natural selection is simply that no one has yet been able to discover how it works. In its basic form, of course, the theory predicts “survival of the fittest”—meaning that in every species there are certain members with superior physical traits, and that they will therefore survive longer, produce more offspring, and pass their superior traits down to the next generation. Unfortunately, the world’s great scientists have been entirely unsuccessful in determining whether a specific trait is superior or not. By way of example, suppose that you had an unlimited selection of gene types, and you wanted to design the ultimate timber wolf. What sort of traits would you include--stronger legs, keener noses, greater intelligence? So far, no scientists would be able to help you decide, because none of them have ever successfully predicted the dominance of certain members of a species based on their genetic traits. As Ronald Brady points out, the scientist who wishes to determine the usefulness of a trait “…does not derive survival from his knowledge of engineering; he observes the fact of survival and then attempts to explain this by reference to design. How do we know that an animal is optimally designed for an environment? It survives in that environment. Thus, no matter how we explain good design after the fact, the criterion used for the detection of good design is always survival.”[6] In other words, it is impossible to examine individuals within a species and judge which ones are the fittest; a Darwinist can only wait and see which animals produce the most offspring, then conclude that these were in fact superior to the rest of the population.

But if natural selection is a failure in nature, can it be produced in the laboratory? Animal breeders have known for centuries that their “artificial selection” can produce small-scale changes, but also that there is a limit to how far a species can move from its original design. I might well add that these changes almost always have negative side effects: consider the case of the “purebred” dog, which is almost inevitably peevish, high-strung, sickly, brainless, or all of the above.

Darwinists, however, insisted that the limitations of breeding are a byproduct of limitations within the given gene pool. There simply aren’t enough different gene combinations available in normal breeding. To produce greater change in a species you need an infusion of new genes, which can be produced via mutation. So to this end the evolutionists have diligently been using various methods to force mutations in the common fruit fly. So far it has proven nearly impossible to produce any that are beneficial: the most common result is sterility, which is definitely not a Darwinian survival trait. In cases where a fly survives the mutation and is able to reproduce, a second mutation quickly follows which serves to cancel the effect of the first, as a physician might re-break an athlete’s bone so that it will heal straight.

Natural selection is also a sadly disadvantaged theory when one attempts to apply it to the vegetable kingdom, especially once you consider the argument raised by Fleeming Jenkin: the effects of “good” mutations would quickly be lost through interbreeding with the original species.[7] (Darwin himself referred to this as the biggest difficulty for natural selection anyone had ever raised.) In the animal kingdom, it is possible to contrive intricate scenarios to deal with this problem, but species in the vegetable kingdom are rooted in place; they can’t do anything to avoid cross-pollination. It seems the main principle operating in the plant world is “survival of the luckiest”.

Carnivorous plants, for example, seem to defy the idea of natural selection. This group, which includes the pitcher plant and Venus’ flytrap, has the ability to obtain nourishment from flying insects that fall prey to their various traps. This is an incredible advantage over the other plants, because it gives them the ability to flourish in poor soils where other plants cannot survive. Logically, then, we should see multitudes of carnivorous plants at every turn, glorying in their enhanced survival skills and sneering down at lesser plants such as crab grass, which are still dependent on sun and soil for nutrition. But carnivorous plants are actually quite rare. Why? The Darwinist has no choice but to conclude that although the ability to catch insects for food appears to be an advantage, since they have not reproduced as well as other plants without this ability, this trait must actually have no particular benefit.

The animal kingdom also seems inexplicable in terms of natural selection. Gordon Taylor, who was once Chief Science Adviser for BBC Television, published a book called The Great Evolution Mystery posthumously in 1983. It contains a multitude of examples from nature that pose serious problems for the idea of natural selection.

One is the problem of under-development. Taylor observes that while the wasp was able to develop a smooth sting capable of being used as often as necessary, the bee is stuck with a barbed sting that is torn out by the roots after one use, generally resulting in the bee’s death. Is it really beneficial to have as your only means of defense a weapon that is suicidal to use?

Another obstacle to natural selection is over-development. Two of the examples Taylor gives are the Irish elk and the peacock. The “Irish” elk, now extinct, actually lived in Siberia. Its most striking feature would have to have been its truly gargantuan antlers, which typically measured twelve feet in length and weighed more than 500 pounds. Imagine a cheerleader twirling a thirty-foot, hundred-pound baton, and you might begin to question how much the elk’s burdensome headgear really aided its survival.

Similarly, the peacock’s fabulous array of tail feathers is an enormous hindrance when it is attempting to outrun or escape its predators. In addition to slowing it down, when fully spread it can greatly limit the peacock’s field of vision. Where is the evolutionary advantage there? Some Darwinists argue that the impressive display of feathers aids the peacock during the mating process. But Taylor points out that other birds are perfectly capable of carrying out a courtship without such a liability, so the question remains: why would a bird ever have grown such a thing in the first place?

Natural selection takes yet another blow from simple odd development, as in the case of the scent glands found in goats and deer. These glands allow them to keep track of each other, but simultaneously give them away to predators. Attempting to rationalize the survival of deer with scent glands over deer without them leads to wildly improbable scenarios: perhaps the glands evolved at a time when their predators had not evolved a sense of smell! Or did the scents left by deer communicate among the species a plan for avoiding predators, which the glandless deer were unable to read? Pierre-Paul Grasse, a leading European zoologist, cites this example along with several other problems of natural selection before concluding, “Selection tends to eliminate the causes of a population’s heterogeneity and thus to produce a uniform genotype. It acts more to conserve the inheritance of the species than to transform it.”

Some of the most compelling arguments against evolution are provided by those creatures and systems that exhibit something called irreducible complexity. Michael J. Behe, in his book Darwin’s Black Box, uses the example of a mousetrap to explain this concept: you can’t begin catching mice with just the wooden base, then add a spring and catch a few more mice, becoming better and better as you add the bar, the catch, and the hammer. All of these parts must be present and functioning if the mousetrap is to catch any mice at all; therefore, it is irreducibly complex.

Examples of this abound in nature. We will begin with the animal kingdom, observing a fascinating variation on the ant: the ant-lion. Alan Hayward rephrases the findings of Pierre-Paul Grasse: “This remarkable insect lives in regions of dry sand or sandy soil, where it digs a pit about two inches deep and waits at the bottom for ants to tumble in. It has a delicate intruder-alarm system, sensitive to the slightest vibration. If a single grain of sand rolls into the pit the ant-lion springs to the alert, with its pincer-like mandibles gaping, ready to seize its prey. The underside of its body is provided with a set of horn-like anchors, so that it can grip the soil while struggling with its captive.

The ant-lion’s mouth is quite extraordinary, being fastened almost shut with a complicated locking system. This makes it unable to eat solid food, but the mouth forms a kind of drinking straw, ideally suited to supping broth.

Having grabbed an ant, the first thing the ant-lion does is to inject a paralyzing drug. Then it gives a second injection of digestive juices which gradually turn the ant’s insides into a nourishing liquid, ready for the ant-lion to suck it out.

There is no drinking water in the hot, dry sandpits where ant-lions live. Most insects would soon die of dehydration in such an environment. But not the ant-lion. To begin with, he is provided with an impermeable skin which, like the aluminum foil around a roasting chicken, prevents his body moisture from drying up. And his digestive tract has a system for recycling the urine, like astronauts do in a spaceship, so that every drop of water can be used again and again.” The odds that this “avalanche” of chance adaptations would occur in a sequence that allows the insect’s survival, says Grasse, are “infinitesimal”.

Another insect that embodies irreducible complexity is the brain worm. Robert Wesson provides an account of its bizarre life cycle. “The brain worm that reproduces in sheep uses ants to get back into a sheep. The worms get into ants by infecting snails that eat sheep feces. The snails expel tiny worm larvae in a mucus that ants enjoy, and some dozens of worms take up residence in an ant. But this would do them no good if the ants behaved normally; too few ants would be eaten by sheep. Consequently, while most of the ants make themselves at home in an ant’s abdomen, one finds its way to the ant’s brain and causes the ant to climb up a grass stem and wait to be eaten by a sheep. Ironically, the worm that programs the ant is cheated of happiness in the sheep’s intestine; it becomes encysted and dies.

The whole procedure seems unnecessary. Why do the worm eggs defecated by the sheep not simply hatch and climb up the grass stem to await being eaten by a sheep instead of making the hazardous trip through snail and ant? How could they become adapted to being carried by the ant unless the ant were already programmed to make itself available to be eaten by a sheep?”[8]

Bombardier beetles are another fascinating example of the irreducibly complex. These amazing insects use a form of chemical warfare to fend off enemies. When they sense danger, they produce a chemical irritant by mixing hydrogen peroxide, hydroquinones, and certain enzymes. It seems a fairly clear-cut case of design: take away any of the ingredients, and the formula doesn’t work. But staunch Darwinian Richard Dawkins has an airtight scientific explanation. He points out that “…both hydrogen peroxide and various kinds of quinones are used for other purposes in body chemistry. The bombardier beetle’s ancestors simply pressed into different service chemicals that already happened to be around.”[9] Apparently we are expected to believe that long, long ago, a portion of the beetle population began to negotiate arrangements between various and sundry of their internal organs, until finally by trial and error they arrived at the highly beneficial situation they enjoy today.

J. C. Willis, a highly regarded British botanist in the mid-twentieth century, was well respected and internationally honored in spite of his lifelong hostility to the idea of natural selection. In his book The Course of Evolution, he provided several examples of conflict with the theory from the plant kingdom, which Alan Hayward here relays to us.

“[Willis] also discusses many features of plants where no intermediate steps are possible. To give just one simple example, leaves are arranged on plant stems in two main ways. They may alternate as you go along the stem: left, right, left, right, and so on. Or they may be opposite each other in pairs. You cannot have a “half opposite, half alternate” arrangement. How, then, did one arrangement evolve into the other, when there cannot be any intermediate steps? And what possible survival value can one arrangement have over the other, anyway?"

Again, Willis asks, why is it that so many arrangements in plants and their flowers are mathematically perfect? In the case of opposite leaves, for instance, they are always exactly opposite. Why is this?

On climbing plants: “Climbers differ in two ways from their upright relatives: they have weak, flexible stems, and they have tendrils, or some other climbing device. Which evolved first? If the weak stems came first, how did the floppy-stemmed plants escape being smothered by other vegetation while their tendrils were evolving? And if the climbing organs evolved first, what made such organs evolve when they were not yet needed?”[10]

Natural selection, then, is perhaps not the indomitable fortress of an idea it has been presented as. Now we will take a look into the past and see what may be learned from another traditional defender of Darwinism: the fossil record.

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