Years back, while researching a bit of erotic horror, I read Other Minds: The Octopus, the Sea, and the Deep Origins of Consciousness. It’s a really good book, and the ideas I encountered there are still bubbling around in my head (the story I eventually wrote won an award).
The idea I want to talk about today takes up maybe two pages of the book, but I had to wrestle with it in my head for days, and think about it still. The idea is this: after you are beyond the age of breeding, evolution doesn’t work. You’re not passing along your traits anymore, so natural selection is no longer in the driver’s seat. Entropy is. Evolution is no longer applicable.
In the book, the idea is used to explain why octopuses (the plural of the word is not “octopi,” because the root is not Latin, another tidbit I learned in the book) have such short lifespans. It’s because (I’m undoubtedly oversimplifying here, I’m no scientist) they only breed once. That’s called “semelparity.”
So, after that one birth, evolution doesn’t control octopuses anymore. No traits, good or bad, are passed along. Anything that happens after that is the result of random mutations and epigenetic changes. Entropy takes the wheel.
As a result, octopuses usually die after they breed. It’s the same with male spiders and mantises who get eaten after mating: it’s not because the female of the species is cruel and selfish, it’s because evolution no longer applies to the male spider, post-sex. They’re just tasty protein after that.
There are some species of fish that literally start to disintegrate after mating. Same mechanism at work.
Humans are not much different. The section in the book that grabbed me made the passing observation that the same mechanism is working in humanity, and is the reason why cancer and other common deadly ailments inordinately affect the elderly. There’s no natural selection to clean things up. You’re on your own. Entropy is driving.
Recently, I connected this thought to another one: I think my brain is changing. Not in scary dementia-like ways (though I’m sure there’s a little age-related atrophy taking place), but in more surprising and interesting ways.
I think I’m kinder and more patient. Sure, I get angry, I get impatient, just like everyone else. But I find my mind sort of bends toward empathy and understanding lately. I see more sides of a story than I used to. When I see behavior that disturbs me, I think of the stressors that might have caused that behavior.
My daughters are out of the house and in charge of their own lives, so my opinions and decisions are not as high-stakes as they once were. I am retired, and live a moderately comfy suburban life with my wife. That entitlement allows me more freedom, and thus more patience.
I have a grandson now, which undoubtedly affects the way I view the world.
All this results in what I call my “grandpa brain.” It’s a common thing: you get older, you have grandkids, you start acting like a grandpa, kinder, gentler, more playful, yadayadayada.
Kindly grandparents. It’s so common a thing it’s a cliché, an archetype. It’s what happens to most people’s brains. I’d like to think it’s a rewiring of how your brain actually works, but I have no evidence of this.
My question is, why does this happen? It’s so common there has to be a mechanism at work. But it can’t be an evolutionary imperative. Natural selection ceases to work once you are no longer supplying the gene pool with your own ammo. Why are grandparents almost universally kind?
Again, I’m no scientist, and I am surely oversimplifying these pretty complex processes. But it occurs to me that having old, kind people hanging around is good for the community. They are protective and nurturing of the children in the community. They carry the institutional wisdom of the community, from having lives so long within it. And their patience and empathy are important in settling disputes within a community.
So, maybe, there IS an evolutionary mechanism at work. Not one that protects the individual genes of any individual grandparent, but one that protects the elderly of a community as a whole, because that community is more likely to survive (and pass on genetic material) because of the contributions of the elderly.
It’s not just the elderly. Communities have other roles that help then survive. Shamans, priests, witches. Artists and dreamers. The neurodivergent, the sexually adventurous, the visionary and the insane. They may or may not pass on their individual genes, but by contributing to the overall health of community, they help insure the genes of the community as a whole live on.
Again, I’m no scientist. I’m just a grandpa.
Peace.
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EDIT: This just in. Apparently octopuses can rewrite their own RNA, and thus have some control over what traits they pass on, and how they evolve. I’d elaborate, but the content is pretty over my head. Feel free to follow the link.
Peace.