ogc163
Superstar
Angela Saini's Superior charts the rise of race science that's being enabled by technology and genetics research. Discover the worrying new trend in this extract
At the turn of the millennium, excitement about the dizzying possibilities of genetics was still rife. People wondered whether gene therapy could some day cure cancer. Researchers imagined they would find genes for everything from being tall to being gay, whether we might even build designer babies by tinkering with our DNA. And two scientists working for the National Cancer Institute in the United States wrote a fairy tale.
Their protagonist is a well-meaning geneticist who one day begins to wonder why some people use chopsticks to eat their food and others don’t. Of course, the hero does what all good experimentalists do: he rounds up several hundred students from his local university and asks them how often they each use chopsticks. Then he sensibly cross-references that data with their DNA and begins his hunt for a gene that shows some link between the two. Lo and behold, he finds it!
“One of the markers, which is located right in the middle of a region previously linked to several behavioural traits, showed a huge correlation to chopstick use,” the tale goes. He has discovered what he decides to call the “successful use of selected hand instruments” gene, neatly abbreviated to SUSHI. The magic spell has been cast: the experiment is successfully replicated, the scientist’s paper is published, and he lives happily ever after.
This might have been the end were it not for one fatal yet obvious flaw. It takes him as long as two years to hit upon the uncomfortable realisation that his research contains a mistake. The SUSHI gene he thinks he has found just happens to occur in higher frequencies in Asian populations. So it wasn’t the gene that made people better at using chopsticks; it was that people who used chopsticks for cultural reasons tended to share this one gene a little more often. He has fallen headlong into the trap of assuming that a link between the use of chopsticks and the gene is causal, when in fact it isn’t. The spell is lifted and the magic is gone.
Like all good fairy tales, there was a moral to this story.
Although not everyone could see it.
In 2005, the hype around genetics had begun to fizzle out, to be slowly replaced with a healthier scepticism. Scientists began to wonder whether our bodies might not be quite as straightforward as they had thought. And then along came a young geneticist at the University of Chicago in the United States with an extraordinary claim.
Bruce Lahn’s work was a shot in the arm for those who had always hoped that genes could explain everything – for the biological determinists who believed that we were anything but blank slates, that much of what we are is decided on the day we are conceived. His claim was so bold, it implied that maybe even the course of history could be decided by something as tiny as one gene.
Lahn had emigrated from China to study at Harvard University, and soon gained a reputation as a cocky maverick who didn’t follow instructions, who did things his own way. A while after arriving in the US, he changed his name to Bruce Lahn from Lan Tian, in homage to the legendary actor and martial arts expert Bruce Lee. The science journalist Michael Balter describes in a profile how, when invited to go on a two-day hike with his colleagues, Lahn turned up with nothing but a jar of pickled eggs. “He was kinda the whizz-kid, he was kinda the darling,” Balter recalls.
The whizz-kid moved up the academic ladder at lightning speed. In 1999 he was named in MIT Technology Review’s first Innovators Under 35 list. Then, in 2005, he published a pair of studies in the prestigious journal Science, drawing a connection between a couple of genes and changes in human brain size. He and colleagues stated that as recently as 5,800 years ago (a mere heartbeat in evolutionary time), one genetic variant that was linked to the brain, among other things, had emerged and swept through populations as a result of evolution by natural selection. Their implication was that it bestowed some kind of survival advantage on our species, making our brains bigger and smarter. At the same time, he noted that this particular variant happened to be more common among people living in Europe, the Middle East, North Africa and parts of east Asia, but was curiously rare in the rest of Africa and in South America. Lahn speculated that perhaps “the human brain is still undergoing rapid adaptive evolution” – although not for everyone in the same way.
His work caused a sensation. What set pulses racing above all was his observation that the timing of the spread of this gene variant seemed to coincide with the rise of what is credited as one of the world’s earliest civilisations in Mesopotamia, with the emergence of highly sophisticated human cultures and written language. Lahn seemed to imply that the brains of different population groups might have evolved in different directions for the past five millennia, and that the groups with this special genetic difference may in consequence have become more sophisticated than others. In brief, people in Europe, the Middle East and Asia had benefited from a cognitive boost, while Africans had languished – perhaps were still languishing – without it.
Racists ate it up and asked for second helpings. After all, here was hard scientific evidence that seemed to corroborate what they had always claimed: that some races were intellectually inferior to others. Their failure to prosper economically was rooted not in history, but in nature. “There will be plenty more results where these came from,” predicted the right-wing commentator John Derbyshire in the American conservative magazine National Review. Lahn also attracted support from the late Henry Harpending, a geneticist at the University of Utah and co-author of a controversial book arguing that biology could explain why Europeans conquered the Americas, and also that European Jews had evolved to be smarter on average than everyone else.
However, there were problems with Lahn’s findings. Even if his gene variants did show up with different frequencies in certain populations, it did not necessarily mean that they provided those who had them with a cognitive advantage. The variants were known to be linked to organs other than the brain, so if natural selection was taking place, maybe this was nothing to do with intelligence. Maybe the genes conferred some advantage that wasn’t related to the brain. The hypothesis needed more evidence.
Soon after the papers were published, the controversial Canadian psychologist John Philippe Rushton ran IQ tests on hundreds of people to see if the gene variants really did make a difference to intelligence or to brain size in those who possessed them. Try as he might, he couldn’t find any evidence that they did. They neither increased head circumference nor general mental ability.
Before long, critics piled in from across the board, undermining every one of Lahn’s scientific and historical assertions. For a start, the variant he described as emerging 5,800 years ago could actually have appeared within a time range as wide as 500 to 14,100 years ago, so it may not have coincided with any major historical events. Respected geneticist Sarah Tishkoff at the University of Pennsylvania, who had been a co-author of his papers, distanced herself from Lahn’s suggestion that it might be linked to advances in human culture.
At the turn of the millennium, excitement about the dizzying possibilities of genetics was still rife. People wondered whether gene therapy could some day cure cancer. Researchers imagined they would find genes for everything from being tall to being gay, whether we might even build designer babies by tinkering with our DNA. And two scientists working for the National Cancer Institute in the United States wrote a fairy tale.
Their protagonist is a well-meaning geneticist who one day begins to wonder why some people use chopsticks to eat their food and others don’t. Of course, the hero does what all good experimentalists do: he rounds up several hundred students from his local university and asks them how often they each use chopsticks. Then he sensibly cross-references that data with their DNA and begins his hunt for a gene that shows some link between the two. Lo and behold, he finds it!
“One of the markers, which is located right in the middle of a region previously linked to several behavioural traits, showed a huge correlation to chopstick use,” the tale goes. He has discovered what he decides to call the “successful use of selected hand instruments” gene, neatly abbreviated to SUSHI. The magic spell has been cast: the experiment is successfully replicated, the scientist’s paper is published, and he lives happily ever after.
This might have been the end were it not for one fatal yet obvious flaw. It takes him as long as two years to hit upon the uncomfortable realisation that his research contains a mistake. The SUSHI gene he thinks he has found just happens to occur in higher frequencies in Asian populations. So it wasn’t the gene that made people better at using chopsticks; it was that people who used chopsticks for cultural reasons tended to share this one gene a little more often. He has fallen headlong into the trap of assuming that a link between the use of chopsticks and the gene is causal, when in fact it isn’t. The spell is lifted and the magic is gone.
Like all good fairy tales, there was a moral to this story.
Although not everyone could see it.
In 2005, the hype around genetics had begun to fizzle out, to be slowly replaced with a healthier scepticism. Scientists began to wonder whether our bodies might not be quite as straightforward as they had thought. And then along came a young geneticist at the University of Chicago in the United States with an extraordinary claim.
Bruce Lahn’s work was a shot in the arm for those who had always hoped that genes could explain everything – for the biological determinists who believed that we were anything but blank slates, that much of what we are is decided on the day we are conceived. His claim was so bold, it implied that maybe even the course of history could be decided by something as tiny as one gene.
Lahn had emigrated from China to study at Harvard University, and soon gained a reputation as a cocky maverick who didn’t follow instructions, who did things his own way. A while after arriving in the US, he changed his name to Bruce Lahn from Lan Tian, in homage to the legendary actor and martial arts expert Bruce Lee. The science journalist Michael Balter describes in a profile how, when invited to go on a two-day hike with his colleagues, Lahn turned up with nothing but a jar of pickled eggs. “He was kinda the whizz-kid, he was kinda the darling,” Balter recalls.
The whizz-kid moved up the academic ladder at lightning speed. In 1999 he was named in MIT Technology Review’s first Innovators Under 35 list. Then, in 2005, he published a pair of studies in the prestigious journal Science, drawing a connection between a couple of genes and changes in human brain size. He and colleagues stated that as recently as 5,800 years ago (a mere heartbeat in evolutionary time), one genetic variant that was linked to the brain, among other things, had emerged and swept through populations as a result of evolution by natural selection. Their implication was that it bestowed some kind of survival advantage on our species, making our brains bigger and smarter. At the same time, he noted that this particular variant happened to be more common among people living in Europe, the Middle East, North Africa and parts of east Asia, but was curiously rare in the rest of Africa and in South America. Lahn speculated that perhaps “the human brain is still undergoing rapid adaptive evolution” – although not for everyone in the same way.
His work caused a sensation. What set pulses racing above all was his observation that the timing of the spread of this gene variant seemed to coincide with the rise of what is credited as one of the world’s earliest civilisations in Mesopotamia, with the emergence of highly sophisticated human cultures and written language. Lahn seemed to imply that the brains of different population groups might have evolved in different directions for the past five millennia, and that the groups with this special genetic difference may in consequence have become more sophisticated than others. In brief, people in Europe, the Middle East and Asia had benefited from a cognitive boost, while Africans had languished – perhaps were still languishing – without it.
Racists ate it up and asked for second helpings. After all, here was hard scientific evidence that seemed to corroborate what they had always claimed: that some races were intellectually inferior to others. Their failure to prosper economically was rooted not in history, but in nature. “There will be plenty more results where these came from,” predicted the right-wing commentator John Derbyshire in the American conservative magazine National Review. Lahn also attracted support from the late Henry Harpending, a geneticist at the University of Utah and co-author of a controversial book arguing that biology could explain why Europeans conquered the Americas, and also that European Jews had evolved to be smarter on average than everyone else.
However, there were problems with Lahn’s findings. Even if his gene variants did show up with different frequencies in certain populations, it did not necessarily mean that they provided those who had them with a cognitive advantage. The variants were known to be linked to organs other than the brain, so if natural selection was taking place, maybe this was nothing to do with intelligence. Maybe the genes conferred some advantage that wasn’t related to the brain. The hypothesis needed more evidence.
Soon after the papers were published, the controversial Canadian psychologist John Philippe Rushton ran IQ tests on hundreds of people to see if the gene variants really did make a difference to intelligence or to brain size in those who possessed them. Try as he might, he couldn’t find any evidence that they did. They neither increased head circumference nor general mental ability.
Before long, critics piled in from across the board, undermining every one of Lahn’s scientific and historical assertions. For a start, the variant he described as emerging 5,800 years ago could actually have appeared within a time range as wide as 500 to 14,100 years ago, so it may not have coincided with any major historical events. Respected geneticist Sarah Tishkoff at the University of Pennsylvania, who had been a co-author of his papers, distanced herself from Lahn’s suggestion that it might be linked to advances in human culture.