Intelligent design proponents have long argued that certain features of the universe and living things are best explained by an intelligent cause.
If that is indeed the case, what a cluttered mind that cause must have.
When the human genome project was completed a few years ago, one of its most stunning revelations was just how few genes we had, roughly 30000 (as opposed to 100000, a number fitting a seemingly complex organism such as ourselves). To put this into some context, the roundworm, Caenorhabditis elegans, a popular model organism for biological studies (particularly development), has about 20000 genes. Drosophila, the fruit fly used widely in genetic studies, has about 16000 genes.
More interestingly, the coding regions of our DNA (the genes that code for the proteins and RNA that are the business end of genetics) make up around 1.5-2% of our entire genome. So what about the rest of our DNA?
Much of the remaining 98-99% of "non-coding" sequences consists of repeated sequences and redundancies. Most fascinatingly, a large chunk of the genome contains pseudogenes - dead copies of genes we don't use. On the face of it, this appears to be a remarkably inefficient way of organizing - or creating, if you will - the portion of the cells that is mostly responsible for who and what we are. If some entity was in charge of putting all this together, then it did a stunningly poor job.
Really, what our understanding of the genome, post-Human Genome Project, provides for us is perhaps our most relevant and comprehensive historical document. Dead copies of genes aren't there because a creator thought it would be fun; they are once-functioning remnants of evolution that allow us to trace our journey along this pathway. By studying them and comparing them with other organisms, we may be able to improve our understanding of evolutionary relationships.
This is essentially the next major challenge following the completion of the human genomic sequence. By a process called gene annotation, we can attach relevant biological information to these genes. Potentially, by better understanding pseudogenes, we may be able to reconstruct, from a genetic point of view, how we arrived at the point we did. It will provide a fascinating look at the molecular basis, and consequences of, natural selection.
The best comparison for this process may be the evolution of Microsoft Windows. Since it was initially produced in the early to mid-1980s, the Windows' code has been added to and updated, producing a behemoth that perhaps no one but the most hardcore techie geeks could appreciate. By and large, many of the problems and complaints people have with Windows is this architecture, which has led to a cluttered and (seemingly) poorly organized code. And yet, the operating system survives and thrives, problems and all (perhaps due to good marketing, but hey, that's how survival of the fittest works). And while the cluttered code has produced the best-selling operating system on the planet, I'm sure anyone would deign to call it intelligently designed.
I've found the simplest explanation is generally the best one, for many things. Rather than believe a creator has produced a genome that is nearly 99% non-coding, and significantly redundant, it simply makes more sense that our genetic code has evolved and improved by natural means over millions of years. Of course, it is perhaps with chagrin that some folks must accept being evolutionarily linked to chimpanzees and pigs. However, we've just come off of eight years of being led by George Bush; if anything, it is the the chimpanzees that should be upset by the comparison.
If that is indeed the case, what a cluttered mind that cause must have.
When the human genome project was completed a few years ago, one of its most stunning revelations was just how few genes we had, roughly 30000 (as opposed to 100000, a number fitting a seemingly complex organism such as ourselves). To put this into some context, the roundworm, Caenorhabditis elegans, a popular model organism for biological studies (particularly development), has about 20000 genes. Drosophila, the fruit fly used widely in genetic studies, has about 16000 genes.
More interestingly, the coding regions of our DNA (the genes that code for the proteins and RNA that are the business end of genetics) make up around 1.5-2% of our entire genome. So what about the rest of our DNA?
Much of the remaining 98-99% of "non-coding" sequences consists of repeated sequences and redundancies. Most fascinatingly, a large chunk of the genome contains pseudogenes - dead copies of genes we don't use. On the face of it, this appears to be a remarkably inefficient way of organizing - or creating, if you will - the portion of the cells that is mostly responsible for who and what we are. If some entity was in charge of putting all this together, then it did a stunningly poor job.
Really, what our understanding of the genome, post-Human Genome Project, provides for us is perhaps our most relevant and comprehensive historical document. Dead copies of genes aren't there because a creator thought it would be fun; they are once-functioning remnants of evolution that allow us to trace our journey along this pathway. By studying them and comparing them with other organisms, we may be able to improve our understanding of evolutionary relationships.
This is essentially the next major challenge following the completion of the human genomic sequence. By a process called gene annotation, we can attach relevant biological information to these genes. Potentially, by better understanding pseudogenes, we may be able to reconstruct, from a genetic point of view, how we arrived at the point we did. It will provide a fascinating look at the molecular basis, and consequences of, natural selection.
The best comparison for this process may be the evolution of Microsoft Windows. Since it was initially produced in the early to mid-1980s, the Windows' code has been added to and updated, producing a behemoth that perhaps no one but the most hardcore techie geeks could appreciate. By and large, many of the problems and complaints people have with Windows is this architecture, which has led to a cluttered and (seemingly) poorly organized code. And yet, the operating system survives and thrives, problems and all (perhaps due to good marketing, but hey, that's how survival of the fittest works). And while the cluttered code has produced the best-selling operating system on the planet, I'm sure anyone would deign to call it intelligently designed.
I've found the simplest explanation is generally the best one, for many things. Rather than believe a creator has produced a genome that is nearly 99% non-coding, and significantly redundant, it simply makes more sense that our genetic code has evolved and improved by natural means over millions of years. Of course, it is perhaps with chagrin that some folks must accept being evolutionarily linked to chimpanzees and pigs. However, we've just come off of eight years of being led by George Bush; if anything, it is the the chimpanzees that should be upset by the comparison.
