Good Enough

The Tolerance for Mediocrity in Nature and Society

De: Daniel S. Milo

Narrado por: Qarie Marshall

Duración: 8 h y 16 m

Resumen del Editor

Why is the genome of a salamander 40 times larger than that of a human? Why does the avocado tree produce a million flowers and only a hundred fruits? Why, in short, is there so much waste in nature?

In this lively and wide-ranging meditation on the curious accidents and unexpected detours on the path of life, Daniel Milo argues that we ask these questions because we’ve embraced a faulty conception of how evolution - and human society - really works. Good Enough offers a vigorous critique of the quasi-monopoly that Darwin’s concept of natural selection has on our idea of the natural world. Darwinism excels in accounting for the evolution of traits, but it does not explain their excess in size and number. Many traits far exceed the optimal configuration to do the job, and yet the maintenance of this extra baggage does not prevent species from thriving for millions of years.

Philosopher Daniel Milo aims to give the messy side of nature its due - to stand up for the wasteful and inefficient organisms that nevertheless survive and multiply. But he does not stop at the border between evolutionary theory and its social consequences. He argues provocatively that the theory of evolution through natural selection has acquired the trappings of an ethical system. Optimization, competitiveness, and innovation have become the watchwords of Western societies, yet their role in human lives - as in the rest of nature - is dangerously overrated. Imperfection is not just good enough: it may at times be essential to survival.

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Rambling speculation

“Life is easy” for humans, according to author Milo. Maybe so, now, for many. But science is hard. If all you want to do is write a book full of highly questionable speculations with virtually no data, it is indeed easy. The question is, why does Harvard University Press tolerate this sort of mediocrity by publishing it?

Let me give you an example of Milo’s tactics. He discusses the evolution of the helmet of the insect called a treehopper. He says it can’t be a result of sexual selection because there is no sexual dimorphism in these insects. So far, so good. He says it can’t be camouflage, which he claims is the best selectionist explanation, because a better solution to avoiding predation would be not to have a helmet at all, the better to hide because then the insect would be smaller. If you think the nonexistent law of small hiders is self-evident, then this book may be for you. Because he has, he thinks, decisively refuted the camouflage hypothesis, presto, he has an example, he triumphantly proclaims, of “pure heresy” from a selectionist point of view. He asks, “How can such excess be viable?” I invite the prospective reader to examine pictures of the treehopper, and come to their own conclusion. There is a quite clear selective advantage (there may be others too, like protecting the young, since there is relatively a lot of maternal investment in her offspring) for the helmets: they arose because of their tendency to discourage predation, by camouflage or fear, for example. They look like leaves, other insects (e.g., hornets), thorns (these are even colloquially called thorn bugs, so at least one species sees the point, as it were), and the like. Pictures of the helmets are quite astonishing. Just google them. And do not read this book.

Good thesis, then straight to baloney

There might be a raging good book here. The concept sure was (and is) attractive. However, after an interesting start, the author digresses into an endless musing about various past wrong-headed wild guesses about the nature of the giraffe. And it is just interminable. As in, sheer padding and insulting to the intelligence. This quick dive into tripe is not auspicious. And it has already exhausted my patience. Too much storytelling drivel (and flat, dull, not even good stories) and not enough scientific rigor marks this author in my mind as either (1) a bad writer, too self-amused, or (2) too steeped in humanities, with (therefore ringing with) an arrogance about carelessly, fumblingly, treading the distinction between philosophy and hard science. At 1:15 in, I have no more of my precious time to waste.