Genome: The Autobiography of a Species in 23 Chapters. Matt Ridley
9 - Self-Interest
The human genome – the complete set of human genes – comes packaged in twenty-three separate pairs of chromosomes. Of these, twenty-two pairs are numbered in approximate order of size, from the largest (number 1) to the smallest (number 22), while the remaining pair consists of the sex chromosomes: two large X chromosomes in women, one X and one small Y in men. In size, the X comes between chromosomes 7 and 8, whereas the Y is the smallest.
The number 23 is of no significance. Many species, including our closest relatives among the apes, have more chromosomes, and many have fewer. Nor do genes of similar function and type necessarily cluster on the same chromosome. So a few years ago, leaning over a lap-top computer talking to David Haig, an evolutionary biologist, I was slightly startled to hear him say that chromosome 19 was his favourite chromosome. It has all sorts of mischievous genes on it, he explained. I had never thought of chromosomes as having personalities before. They are, after all, merely arbitrary collections of genes. But Haig’s chance remark planted an idea in my head and I could not get it out. Why not try to tell the unfolding story of the human genome, now being discovered in detail for the first time, chromosome by chromosome, by picking a gene from each chromosome to fit the story as it is told? Primo Levi did something similar with the periodic table of the elements in his autobiographical short stories. He related each chapter of his life to an element, one that he had had some contact with during the period he was describing.
I began to think about the human genome as a sort of autobiography in its own right – a record, written in ‘genetish’, of all the vicissitudes and inventions that had characterised the history of our species and its ancestors since the very dawn of life. There are genes that have not changed much since the very first single-celled creatures populated the primeval ooze. There are genes that were developed when our ancestors were worm-like. There are genes that must have first appeared when our ancestors were fish. There are genes that exist in their present form only because of recent epidemics of disease. And there are genes that can be used to write the history of human migrations in the last few thousand years. From four billion years ago to just a few hundred years ago, the genome has been a sort of autobiography for our species, recording the important events as they occurred.
I wrote down a list of the twenty-three chromosomes and next to each I began to list themes of human nature. Gradually and painstakingly I began to find genes that were emblematic of my story. There were frequent frustrations when I could not find a suitable gene, or when I found the ideal gene and it was on the wrong chromosome. There was the puzzle of what to do with the X and Y chromosomes, which I have placed after chromosome 7, as befits the X chromosome’s size. You now know why the last chapter of a book that boasts in its subtitle that it has twenty-three chapters is called Chapter 22.
It is, at first glance, a most misleading thing that I have done. I may seem to be implying that chromosome 1 came first, which it did not. I may seem to imply that chromosome 11 is exclusively concerned with human personality, which it is not. There are probably 60,000–80,000 genes in the human genome and I could not tell you about all of them, partly because fewer than 8,000 have been found (though the number is growing by several hundred a month) and partly because the great majority of them are tedious biochemical middle managers.
But what I can give you is a coherent glimpse of the whole: a whistle-stop tour of some of the more interesting sites in the genome and what they tell us about ourselves. For we, this lucky generation, will be the first to read the book that is the genome. Being able to read the genome will tell us more about our origins, our evolution, our nature and our minds than all the efforts of science to date. It will revolutionise anthropology, psychology, medicine, palaeontology and virtually every other science. This is not to claim that everything is in the genes, or that genes matter more than other factors. Clearly, they do not. But they matter, that is for sure.
This is not a book about the Human Genome Project – about mapping and sequencing techniques – but a book about what that project has found. Some time in the year 2000, we shall probably have a rough first draft of the complete human genome. In just a few short years we will have moved from knowing almost nothing about our genes to knowing everything. I genuinely believe that we are living through the greatest intellectual moment in history. Bar none. Some may protest that the human being is more than his genes. I do not deny it. There is much, much more to each of us than a genetic code. But until now human genes were an almost complete mystery. We will be the first generation to penetrate that mystery. We stand on the brink of great new answers but, even more, of great new questions. This is what I have tried to convey in this book.
PRIMER
The second part of this preface is intended as a brief primer, a sort of narrative glossary, on the subject of genes and how they work. I hope that readers will glance through it at the outset and return to it at intervals if they come across technical terms that are not explained. Modern genetics is a formidable thicket of jargon. I have tried hard to use the bare minimum of technical terms in this book, but some are unavoidable.
The human body contains approximately 100 trillion (million million) CELLS, most of which are less than a tenth of a millimetre across. Inside each cell there is a black blob called a NUCLEUS. Inside the nucleus are two complete sets of the human GENOME (except in egg cells and sperm cells, which have one copy each, and red blood cells, which have none). One set of the genome came from the mother and one from the father. In principle, each set includes