GENOMES PAST
Alexander McCall Smith's research reveals that many of us may share Neanderthal heritage
It’s a familiar enough story. At a certain stage in life, when the children have been brought up and sent on their way, people begin to take an interest in where they came from. This leads to the construction of elaborate genealogical charts involving the pursuit of ever-more-distant connections, longforgotten forebears about whom little or nothing is known.
Occasionally these family trees reveal a poignant story of friendship, or loss, or struggle. Perhaps an antecedent went to the Yukon; perhaps one volunteered with Garibaldi’s Redshirts; perhaps one never went anywhere. Often they bring home the astonishing extent of our inter-connectedness. With Scotland’s small population, the odds are that the plotting of an extensive family tree will reveal current relationships of which one was previously unaware. In some parts of the country, in fact, it is wise to assume that the person to whom you are talking is a distant cousin of the person about whom you are talking. The well-known saying that we are all Jock Tamson’s bairns may be intended to convey a message of egalitarianism, but, in another sense, it may reflect an important truth.
Our new understanding of genetics has changed the whole way we look at our connections with other people. DNA testing has, of course, wrecked things for playwrights and novelists: if there is any doubt as to paternity or maternity, a stock theme in the past for a great deal of drama and fiction – think of Dickens, let alone a thousand soap operas in which people go to great lengths to discover their true parentage – such doubt can be settled definitively by DNA testing. But awareness of genetics does far more than that: it reminds us of something that we are prone to forget: our common humanity.
We may think that we are different from others, and superficially we may be, but in essence we all come from the same place. We may talk about others as them, but they are actually family members sharing remote great-to-the-power of
grandparents. Cultural and religious fences that we construct around ourselves are therefore just that: human constructs that are unfounded on any inherent qualities. We are all from the same village, is one way of putting it. The brotherhood of man is another expression that does the same work.
Our shared genetic inheritance was colourfully illustrated when the pioneer population geneticist, Professor Brian Sykes, took a DNA sample from the celebrated Ice Man, the five-thousand-year-old frozen inhabitant of a European cave. Professor Sykes, who was the leading exponent of the theory that most of us in this part of the world are descended from one of seven women, invited a random acquaintance to be tested for possible descent from the Ice Man. She agreed – and was discovered to be a direct descendant. Not only did this point to the truth of his theory, but it also showed a touching side of humanity – having been identified as a descendant, the volunteer then began to show a relative’s concern for the fate of the body – suggesting a respectful disposal. And why not?
Who amongst us would not be concerned that the remains of our grandfather might be put on public display.
Population genetics has caught the public imagination. Alistair Moffat’s fascinating The Scots, a Genetic Journey is an example of how the analysis of DNA can throw light on the movement of peoples. Being able to see where populations come from confirms other historical evidence of migrations, but, at a more personal level, a DNA test may tell you something about just where you fit in that picture. It is now a very simple and inexpensive matter to enrol with a testing company that will tell you roughly where your ancestors came from. They will also tell you whether certain genes are detectable in your genome. For example, they will tell you whether you are likely to prefer sweet tastes to sour, and whether you are likely to be left- or right-handed. They will also reveal – and this is alone worth the cost of the test – how much Neanderthal DNA you have in you.
‘Neanderthal? Moi?’ I hear you say. Yes, there was crossbreeding with homo sapiens, with the result that for most of us at least two-per-cent of our genes come from Neanderthal ancestors. I recently did the test, and am happy to report that I am about average in that respect. I also have forebears from County Cork, which is great news, as being part-Irish (as most of us are) is a distinct tonic in these dreary days.
Having had my Neanderthal roots confirmed sent me off to read Rebecca Wragg Sykes’ Kindred: Neanderthal Life, Love, Death and Art. This is a summary of the considerable body of knowledge that has now built up around the Neanderthals. They had a bad press, mostly based on ignorance. They were not stupid; in spite of their low foreheads, they had brains of roughly the same size as ours, and, like us, they walked erect.
Becoming aware of your Neanderthal DNA is the first step. Thereafter celebrate the inner Neanderthal. Learn the language, acquire some knowledge of Neanderthal art, correct those who speak insultingly of Neanderthals in general. The Neanderthals lost everything forty thousand years ago: you are their future. And remember: extinction is no respecter of persons and is, sad to relate, forever.
“At least two percent of our genes come from Neanderthal ancestors