For many of us, our first exposure to the word “evolution” came from Pokémon. You can evolve your caterpie into a metapod at level 7, for example, then grind through to evolve again into a butterfree at level 10. Evolution is an essential part of the Pokémon mechanics, in both video games and in the TCG, but much of the use of the word is at odds with how evolution works in real organisms. Let’s take a closer look.
Biological evolution refers to any change in the heritable characteristics (read “genes” here) of a population over the course of multiple generations. That’s it. That definition is small enough to fit in a Poké Ball, but can expand and explain, and make useful predictions in the real world.
In the Pokémon universe, one organism acquires characteristics and then evolves into the “next” type or kind. Here, in our universe, individuals don’t evolve. Any traits or characteristics one acquires, like a tan on spring break or learning the secrets to speeding up Levestra’s evolution, are not heritable. Desirable traits, sure, but you won’t biologically pass them on to your children. If it’s not changing the DNA you’re building for making babies, it won’t affect evolution.
In our world, evolution is a “team sport.” Typos in DNA sequences, caused during the copying process, or breaks and repairs to whole chromosomes, get passed on to offspring. Each generation adds their own “spin” to the genes before passing them on. This explains why you don’t look just like your parents or, more importantly, the same as your siblings!
Caterpie, Metapod, Butterfree
The changes accrue in the population, a group of similar organisms. Some of the traits become less common or even disappear. Others spread through the population and become a lot more frequent. Over multiple generations, changes can be subtle or dramatic, but they are there: observable and undeniable.
In Pokémon, evolution is about “leveling up,” improving, and becoming a new and enhanced type. Biological evolution doesn’t have a goal in mind, or an end point. Genetic changes seem to be random, but but selection is not. The environment acts as a filter to all this genetic expression. If a change helps the possessor, then they’re more likely to live long enough to pass it on. If the organism has enough traits that make living harder, like having fewer or less healthy offspring, those genes tend to get removed from the gene pool. It’s not a march toward perfection; more like survival of the “okay-est.”
The Pokémon world does illustrate one concept fairly well. Specialization in your type allows for advantages in some circumstances but not all. A fire type Pokémon fares well in a region full of grass, ice, or bug types. But it could find itself at a disadvantage in a region rich in water, rock, or dragon types.
This is true for real-world evolution. As we’ve seen, organisms don’t move toward perfection — the population is simply pruned by the environment for a better fit to the present conditions. Polar bears and tigers are well adapted predators, but only in certain venues. A tiger would be rather conspicuous on ice flows, and polar bears in a tropical jungle wouldn’t be very stealthy.
Another thing you see in the Pokémon’s world is the ability to stop evolution cold or actually induce it, with external prompts like an Everstone or Thunderstone, respectively. In reality, we’re unable to predict where changes in a gene’s abundance will take a population, nor do we have a way to stop or steer it. Evolution continues on by selection pressures, genetic drift, and all things natural, with nothing or no one at the steering wheel.
(On a much smaller scale, humans have been able to artificially induce genetic changes and choose which organisms make the next generation, which is known as artificial selection. That’s how we’ve created 450 dog breeds and tweaked a wild mustard plant into becoming kale, kohlrabi, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and cauliflower.)
A better descriptor for Pokémon “evolution” is metamorphosis (from the latin: meta, or change; and morph, or form). A tadpole gives up its fish-like lifestyle and changes into the intermediate form of a pollywog or froglet, and then into its final form, an adult frog. This is an uncanny parallel to the change from a caterpie, to metapod, and finally a butterfree. It’s spot on, in fact, describing an individual changing its form during its life cycle, not a population and not over several generations.
Every February, to help celebrate Darwin Day, the Science section of AIPT cranks up the critical thinking for SKEPTICISM MONTH! Skepticism is an approach to evaluating claims that emphasizes evidence and applies the tools of science. All month we’ll be highlighting skepticism in pop culture, and skepticism *OF* pop culture.
AIPT Science is co-presented by AIPT and the New York City Skeptics.
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