The rise and fall of the third chimpanzee

across Africa just north of the equator. However, with the increased knowledge of chimp behaviour acquired in recent years, it has become clear that the modest anatomical differences between pygmy and common chimps mask considerable differences in reproductive biology. Unlike common chimps but like ourselves, pygmy chimps assume a wide variety of positions for copulation, including face-to-face; copulation can be initiated by either sex, not just by the male; females are sexually receptive for much of the month, not just for a briefer period in mid- month; and there are strong bonds among females or between males and females, not just among males. Evidently, those few genes (0.7 %) that differ between pygmy and common chimps have big consequences for sexual physiology and roles. That same theme—a small percentage of gene differences having great consequences—will recur later in this and the next chapter in regard to the gene differences between humans and chimps.

In all the cases that I have discussed so far, anatomical evidence of relationships was already convincing, and the DNA-based conclusions confirmed what the anatomists had already concluded. But DNA was also able to resolve the problem at which anatomy had failed—the relationships between humans, gorillas, and chimpanzees. As the figure on page 17 shows, humans differ from both common chimps and pygmy chimps in about 1.6 % of their (our) DNA, and share 98.4 %. Gorillas differ somewhat more, by about 2.3 %, from us and from both of the chimps.

Let us pause to let some of the implications of these momentous numbers sink in.

The gorilla must have branched off from our family tree slightly before we separated from the common and pygmy chimpanzees. The chimpanzees, not the gorilla, are our closest relatives. Put another way, the chimpanzees' closest relative is not the gorilla but the human. Traditional taxonomy has reinforced our anthropocentric tendencies by claiming to see a fundamental dichotomy between mighty man, standing alone on high, and the lowly apes all together in the abyss of bestiality. Now future taxonomists may see things from the chimpanzees' perspective: a weak dichotomy between slightly higher apes (the three chimpanzees, including the 'human chimpanzee') and slightly lower apes (gorilla, orangutan, gibbons). The traditional distinction between 'apes' (defined as chimps, gorillas, etc.) and humans misrepresents the facts. The genetic distance (1.6 %) separating us from pygmy or common chimps is barely double that separating pygmy from common chimps (0.7 %). It is less than that between two species of gibbons (2.2 %), or between such closely related North American bird species as red-eyed vireos and white-eyed vireos (2.9 %), or between such closely related and hard-to-distinguish European bird species as willow warblers and chiffchaffs (2.6 %). The remaining 98.4 % of our genes are just normal chimp genes. For example, our principal haemoglobin, the oxygen-carrying protein that gives blood its red colour, is identical in all 287 units with chimp haemoglobin. In this respect as in most others, we are just a third species of chimpanzee, and what is good enough for common and pygmy chimps is good enough for us. Our important visible distinctions from the other chimps—our upright posture, large brains, ability to speak, sparse body hair, and peculiar sexual lives (of which I will say more in Chapter Three)—must be concentrated in a mere 1.6 % of our genes.

If genetic distances between species accumulated at a uniform rate with time, they would function as a smoothly ticking clock. All that would be required to convert genetic distance into absolute time since the last common ancestor would be a calibration, furnished by a pair of species for which we know both the genetic distance and the time of divergence as dated independently by fossils. In fact, two independent calibrations are available for higher primates. On the one hand, monkeys diverged from apes between twenty-five and thirty million years ago according to fossil evidence, and now differ in about 7.3 % of their DNA. On the other hand, orangutans diverged from chimps and gorillas between twelve and sixteen million years ago and now differ in about 3.6 % of their DNA. Comparing these two examples, a doubling of evolutionary time, as one goes from twelve or sixteen to twenty-five or thirty million years, leads to a doubling of genetic distance (3.6 to 7.3 % of DNA). Thus, the DNA clock has ticked relatively steadily among higher primates.

With those calibrations, Sibley and Ahlquist estimated the following time scale for our evolution. Since our own genetic distance from chimps (1.6 %) is about half the distance of orangutans from chimps (3.6 %), we must have been going our separate way for about half of the twelve to sixteen million years that orangutans had to accumulate their genetic distinction from chimps. That is, the human and 'other chimp' evolutionary lines diverged around six to eight million years ago. By the same reasoning, gorillas parted from the common ancestor of us three chimpanzees around nine million years ago, and the pygmy and common chimps diverged around three million years ago. In contrast, when I took physical anthropology as a college freshman in 1954, the assigned textbooks said that humans diverged from apes fifteen to thirty million years ago. Thus, the DNA clock strongly supports a controversial conclusion also drawn from several other molecular clocks based on amino acid sequences of proteins, mitochondrial DNA, and globin pseudogene DNA. Each clock indicates that humans have had only a short history as a species distinct from other apes, much shorter than paleontologists used to assume.

What do these results imply about our position in the animal kingdom? Biologists classify living things in hierarchical categories, each less distinct than the next: subspecies, species, genus, family, superfamily, order, class, and phylum. The Encyclopaedia Britannica and all the biology texts on my shelf say that humans and apes belong to the same order, called Primates, and the same superfamily, called Hominoidea, but to separate families, called Hominidae and Pongidae. Whether Sibley's and Ahlquist's work changes this classification depends on one's philosophy of taxonomy. Traditional taxonomists group species into higher categories by making somewhat subjective evaluations of how important the differences between species are. Such taxonomists place humans in a separate family because of distinctive functional traits like large brain and bipedal posture, and this classification would remain unaffected by measures of genetic distance.

However, — another school of taxonomy, called cladistics, argues that classification should be objective and uniform, based on genetic distance or times of divergence. All taxonomists agree now that red-eyed and white- eyed vireos belong together in the genus Vireo, willow warblers and chiffchaffs in the genus Phylloscopus, the various species of gibbons in the genus Hylobates. Yet the members of each of these pairs of species are genetically more distant from each other than are humans from the other two chimpanzees, and diverged longer ago. On this basis, then, humans do not constitute a distinct family, nor even a distinct genus, but belong in the same genus as common and pygmy chimps. Since our genus name Homo was proposed first, it takes priority, by the rules of zoological nomenclature, over the genus name Pan coined for the 'other' chimps. Thus, there are not one but three species of genus Homo on Earth today: the common chimpanzee, Homo troglodytes; the pygmy chimpanzee, Homo paniscus; and the third chimpanzee or human chimpanzee, Homo sapiens. Since the gorilla is only slightly more distinct, it has almost equal right to be considered a fourth species of Homo.

Even taxonomists espousing cladistics are anthropocentric, and the lumping of humans and chimps into the same genus will undoubtedly be a bitter pill for them to swallow. There is no doubt, however, that whenever chimpanzees learn cladistics, or whenever taxonomists from outer space visit Earth to inventory its inhabitants, they will unhesitatingly adopt the new classification.

Which particular genes are the ones that differ between humans and chimps? Before we can consider this question, we need first to understand what it is that DNA, our genetic material, does.

Much or most of our DNA has no function and may just constitute 'molecular junk': that is, DNA molecules that have become duplicated or have lost former functions, and that natural selection has not eliminated from us because they do us no harm. Of our DNA that does have known functions, the main ones have to do with the long chains of amino acids called proteins. Certain proteins make up much of our body's structure (such as the proteins keratin, of hair, or collagen, of connective tissue), while other proteins, termed enzymes, synthesize and break down most of our body's remaining molecules. The sequences of the component small molecules (nucleotide bases) in DNA specify the sequence of amino acids in our proteins. Other parts of our functional DNA regulate protein synthesis. Those of our observable features that are easiest to understand genetically are ones arising from single proteins and single genes. For instance, our blood's oxygen-carrying protein haemoglobin, already mentioned, consists of two amino acid chains, each specified by a single chunk of DNA (a single 'gene'). These two genes have no observable effects except through specifying the structure of haemoglobin, which is confined to our red blood cells. Conversely, haemoglobin's structure is totally specified by those genes. What you eat or how much you exercise may affect how much haemoglobin you make, but not the details of its structure.