Alice Roberts: Embracing Our Animal Nature – Understanding Humanity’s Roots

Physically, Homo sapiens may seem unremarkable in the animal kingdom. Yet, this species has ingeniously adapted to thrive across diverse habitats, from dense jungles to frigid arctic landscapes.

Alice Roberts, a remarkable figure in the realm of science, developed a keen passion for medicine, becoming both a surgeon and anatomist. Deeply intrigued by the evolutionary narratives of our primate relatives, she currently holds the position of Professor of Public Engagement in Science at the University of Birmingham, UK. Her expertise spans anthropology, archaeology, and paleopathology.

With an impressive portfolio in television, she has starred in shows such as Digging for Britain and Pompeii’s Lost Documents, and authored multiple books. Among them, Humans: Evolution of the Species, explores the journey of human evolution through captivating illustrations and worldwide contributions, including insights shared by Michael Marshall about her latest work.

Michael Marshall: What key insights does this latest installment of our evolutionary journey shed?

Alice Roberts: My time at the University of Bristol significantly shaped my perspective on humanity. While teaching anatomy to students, I constructed a dissection room within my veterinary school, where I had an eye-opening experience examining a lamb’s heart.

This moment allowed me to understand the heart’s evolution from fetus to adult form, prompting me to view humans as merely another mammal—a realization that transformed my perspective entirely.

How should we consider the implications of our bodies being results of evolutionary processes, and how does this history manifest in our skeletons and organs?

Inside our cells, biochemical processes trace back to the earliest single-celled organisms that once thrived in ancient oceans. Our limbs connect us to the first amphibians that ventured onto land approximately 360 million years ago. By studying changes in our arm bones, we can unravel the story of our evolutionary lineage. This exploration can apply to various parts of the human body.


Arranging the skeletons of Homo floresiensis sent chills down my spine… so human, yet distinctly different.

Can you provide examples of these similarities and distinctions?

I’ve often noted that if a medical student were presented with a female chimpanzee’s humerus, they might struggle to discern the difference. The size and shape of the bones closely resemble those of humans, retaining their functional capabilities. Upon closer examination, the similarities are intriguing, particularly in the structure of hands; human thumbs stand out as longer and thicker than those of chimpanzees.

It’s fascinating to hear paleoanthropologists confidently compare ape and human hands to classify Homo habilis. How do you view this?

Indeed, if chimpanzee hands closely resemble human hands, then examining other hominins becomes complex. Categorizing fossils can be challenging, especially when the record is incomplete. As someone passionate about data, I find the lack of clarity concerning categorization quite disconcerting.

Humans appear to possess a uniquely developed brain. How significant is this distinction?

The most distinguishing features of humans can be summarized succinctly: bipedalism, small teeth, and a large brain. While the correlation between larger brains and bipedalism is still under investigation, various theories abound. Some argue that the evolution of a larger brain coincided with bipedalism, while others suggest that enhanced cognitive functions arose as a result of the freedom provided by walking upright—allowing for tool use and expanded social networks.

Our body size is comparable to that of other great apes, yet the differentiation lies in the structure of our brains. Human brains not only exhibit greater size but also an intricate folding pattern that accommodates vast amounts of cortex. This distinction influences our interactions with the natural world around us.

The number of human species that existed alongside us has grown remarkably. How has this evolved our understanding of human evolution?

Initially, Neanderthals were the only known other group. Now, we recognize that they coexisted but were not our direct ancestors, as approximately 20 distinct hominin species have been identified, with new discoveries emerging each year.

My groundbreaking series from 2008, Incredible Human Journey, highlights this evolving narrative. During a visit to Indonesia, I encountered the fossil of Homo floresiensis—a shocking revelation that reshaped my comprehension of human ancestry.

“The Hobbit” – Original Homo floresiensis

Observing the skeletons of Homo floresiensis side by side was deeply impactful; their small skulls and brains still yielded evidence of stone tool use. This discovery contradicted the long-held belief that larger brains lead to tool-making capabilities, compelling me to reevaluate what it truly means to be human.

While Neanderthals and Denisovans vanished, our species endured. What accounts for our survival?

Unpacking this question requires probing tens of thousands of years of evolutionary history. Evidence suggests that modern humans possessed intricate social networks, allowing for enhanced resource distribution during hardships. This interconnectedness likely played a pivotal role in our survival.

Homo floresiensis had a small skull (top) and a small brain, yet still created stone tools

Tolo Balagar/Alamy

In the grand tapestry of evolution, will we see significant changes in the coming centuries?

Evolutionary changes are often catalyzed by drastic events, typically involving significant population declines, after which genetic diversity is crucial. In the near future, any observable changes in humans will likely pertain to immune responses rather than drastic physical transformations. We aren’t on the verge of growing additional limbs.


It’s a contradiction in my mind. While I challenge the notion of human exceptionalism, I acknowledge our uniqueness.

A compelling and concerning aspect of our evolution lies in our capacity to manipulate our DNA. The ethical implications of this capability remain a significant question mark for our future.

Do your professional insights influence your fiction writing?

I’ve authored two children’s books set during the Ice Age, imagining the first encounters between modern humans and Neanderthals to invigorate history through storytelling. My debut adult novel, Queen of Goddesses, set for release in September, explores the saga of Cleopatra and Mark Antony, reflecting on the unpredictable nature of human history much like the complexities of evolution itself.

What is humanity’s relationship with nature? How should it evolve?

With billions of us on this planet, human culture indeed appears exceptional. Yet, if we adopt an evolutionary lens, we discern a lack of rigid separations between us and the rest of the natural world. Understanding our origins emphasizes that we are inherently connected to all species.

As we observe the impacts of our lifestyles on biodiversity, we must recognize our moral responsibility to mitigate our negative effects. Regardless of perceived separations from nature, we are deeply intertwined with it; our survival hangs in the balance of its preservation.

This is an edited version of a New Scientist video interview to be published on youtube.com/NewScientist on June 10th. Michael Marshall is a writer based in Devon, England.

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Source: www.newscientist.com

Domination Review: Alice Roberts Explores the Unstoppable Growth of Christianity

About 2,000 years later, Christianity remains a major religion

Sam Pelly/Millennium Images, UK

Domination
Alice Roberts (Simon & Schuster)

Alice Roberts’ latest book represents a distinct shift. In her earlier works, Basement and Burial, she combined her knowledge of osteophysiology, which examines preserved human bones, with more conventional historical strategies, such as analyzing ancient texts. Her blend of technical science and insightful discussions of historical records aimed to create a multifaceted perspective of past human life and culture.

In contrast, Rule: The Decline of the Roman Empire and the Ascendancy of Christianity largely steers clear of osteophysiology. Instead, it delves into historical documents. This isn’t necessarily a shortcoming; Roberts showcases her keen and deliberate approach to historical analysis, albeit this might necessitate an avid readership.

The focal point of her exploration is the ascent of Christianity from a modest Eastern Mediterranean sect to a globally dominant faith. Amid the disappearance of many other beliefs, what factors contributed to its supremacy?

Central to this narrative is the Roman Empire, which held sway over nearly all Mediterranean territories, extending from Britain to Syria when Christianity first appeared. Although the Romans worshipped numerous deities, Christianity gradually garnered more favor. Key moments stand out: Constantine I’s reign (AD 306-337) saw the decriminalization of Christianity (and possibly his own conversion), although Roberts identifies evidence gaps about this. Theodosius I’s rule (AD 379-395) marked another pivotal moment, as he made Christianity the state religion.

Roberts questions the conventional narrative which suggests Christianity was inherently more appealing or its followers exceptionally devoted. She contends that such assertions are mere Christian propaganda.


The eternal truth is not theological: gods rise and fall, temples rise and fall, but business is always business.

Instead, she asserts that the genuine key to Christianity’s success lay in its rapid infiltration of the upper echelons of Roman society. While Jesus associated with the marginalized, his followers targeted affluent Romans, soldiers, and educated elites for recruitment—this strategy proved tremendously effective. “Early adopters emerged from the middle and upper classes of urban centers, not merely the lower classes of the rural and imperial populations,” Roberts states.

Over ensuing decades and centuries, the church amassed a business empire. As Roberts articulates, “Stripped of religious pretense, what’s revealed is a vast, intricate network of interrelated enterprises: welfare, healthcare, law, agriculture, shipping, education, and beyond.”

The church also undertook charitable initiatives covering various state responsibilities, particularly in addressing poverty. However, this was managed with a clear veneer of cynicism. “Christian charity,” Roberts observes, “was never intended to eradicate poverty.” Instead, it enabled the church to position itself favorably across all societal tiers, suggesting to the poor that they would be compensated in the afterlife, while assuring the wealthy that their donations were the pathway to heaven.

This arrangement thrived amid the glaring social inequalities of the time, drawing parallels to modern billionaire philanthropy.

Ultimately, Roberts argues that the Roman economic landscape was thoroughly reshaped around the church, as educated elites pursued careers within its structure.

When the Western Roman Empire crumbled, the elite aligned themselves with the new leadership but retained existing power structures. “Regardless of the rhetoric or spiritual messaging, the whole system mirrored Roman commerce, as always,” Roberts notes. “The eternal truth is not theological; gods come and go, temples rise and fall, but business is always business.”

The opening of Domination may prove somewhat challenging, with a plethora of names to track and a non-linear narrative. However, once Roberts refines her argument, the narrative accelerates. The outcome is a sharp, thought-provoking, and at times contentious examination of one of humanity’s most significant organizations.

Michael Marshall is a writer based in Devon, UK

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Adam Roberts’ New Scientist Book Club Review: Lakes of Darkness – A Mixed Bag

New Scientist Book Club has just read Adam Roberts’ Lake in the Dark

Laurie photos

Following the journey through Khalian Bradley’s *Time Saving*, the New Scientist Book Club ventured in the opposite direction for our latest read: the far future and some hard science fiction with Adam Roberts’ *Lake of Darkness*. Set in a seemingly utopian society, the narrative revolves around two spacecraft orbiting a black hole, and one captain receiving orders to kill all crew members as commanded by a voice from the depths of that black hole. Not quite utopia, but rather a chilling twist from Roberts’s protagonist, Saccadest in the century, as we delve deeper into this mystical entity.

The reception among our readers is varied; some found it thoroughly enjoyable while others felt its pacing was sluggish. Personally, I resonate with Paul Jonas, a member of the New Scientist Book Club. He shared on Facebook that he was “fascinated by the story” and “appreciated the hard science components relating to space travel, black holes, and utopian societies.” Paul’s insights into the philosophical elements tied to Deleuze’s thinking in this novel truly impress me.

I tend to be quite discerning when it comes to fiction, and rarely find books claiming to be humorous truly engaging (Terry Pratchett being the joyous exception). However, *Lake of Darkness* was different; I found myself intrigued at various moments, particularly appreciating how Roberts’ distant characters grappled with our own history while deciphering what they termed “so-called” *More’s Code*, the ancient system of long and short pulses each symbolizing a single glyph, alluding to the famous Beatles tune, *We All Live in a Yellow Submarine*.

Like Paul, I was captivated by the book’s portrayal of a future utopian society and the dilemmas it presents. During our discussion, Roberts expressed his intention to explore various subgenres of science fiction within his writing. While this perspective on utopia unfolds with its antagonist (spoiler alert – Satan), the idealized vision isn’t as appealing, given that all labor is assigned to “smart machines,” leaving people devoid of functionality. Time becomes filled with hobbies and fandoms, captured in the phrase, “Your people understand the value of everything but the cost. Without a cost, nothing holds worth. The best carries a significant price.” I found it quite delightful to navigate (and read) while contemplating this future society.

Charlotte Sye, another Book Club member, enjoyed listening to the audiobook and shared her enthusiasm: “I love the humor and hard science.” She added, “Life inside a black hole is particularly fascinating, as one character mentions, while there’s tremendous energy, is there really space and time?!”

Barbara Howe, however, had her reservations. She acknowledged the book’s “historical misconceptions” and “utopian critiques,” but felt that the depicted utopia was overly centered on trivial sexual themes, reflecting a male-centric viewpoint, neglecting notions like child-rearing or nurturing that are essential to true progress.

Barbara also pointed out a sentiment echoed by several other readers: she appreciated reading *Lake of Darkness* as an e-book, stating, “I had to look up more words in this single book than in my previous reads.” Alain Pellett echoed this, finding the vocabulary somewhat challenging and “offensive.” Jess Brady shared similar thoughts, enjoying the concept while criticizing the “slow prose.”

While such critiques weren’t particularly noticeable for me—possibly due to my willingness to overlook certain aspects—I did sympathize with Barbara’s assessment regarding the physics: “I tackle explanations of time travel alongside FTL (faster-than-light) travel. I accept these premises; they provide a thin veil of scientific reality over a fantastical plot device.”

Another prevalent criticism among readers was the lack of relatable characters. Alan expressed frustration, noting, “No one seemed sympathetic; their deaths evoked no remorse. They were all insufferable and dim-witted.” Karen Shees concurred, saying, “While the book initially caught my interest, I found the characters so unengaging that I wasn’t invested in their fate.”

I share this sentiment to some extent. Many characters were glaringly absurd, including guunarsonsdottir—distracting. Yet, I believe this serves a purpose, as I relished witnessing the turmoil of these intellectually lazy individuals as they navigated actual threats—through the seemingly redundant formation of another committee discussing their next steps. Moreover, I’m intrigued by the character Bartle Wasp; even the name piques curiosity.

Paul likely feels similarly. “Saccade was a compelling character. Living in a utopia surrounded by AI shapes her perspective. There’s no obligation to fully connect with every character; following their journey can be engaging even if they’re not traditional heroes.”

After finishing *Lake of Darkness*, I found numerous substantial concepts lingering in my thoughts. Did the black hole narrative hold coherence? Was the conclusion truly comprehensible? I’m still pondering—much like Barbara, who concluded that the novel “took unexpected turns and provoked thought.”

“In the latter part, I felt transported back to the 1980s,” she remarked, referencing Douglas Hofstadter’s *Godel, Escher, Bach: Eternal Golden Braid*. “It was a brief throwback, but the ending confuses me. Why did Joins act as she did? Did the entity achieve its desires?”

Paul similarly found the conclusion perplexing. “The ending likely bewildered many due to the complexities of black hole physics,” he noted. “Additionally, the geometric concepts about the inside/outside of infinite structures were truly mind-bending.”

However, let’s shift from the complexities of black holes to the anticipation for our next read. We’ll be diving into Circular Motion by Alex Foster. This captivating debut envisions a gradual acceleration of Earth’s spin, with increasingly disastrous consequences. I’m excited to share it and can’t wait to hear your thoughts! You can preview excerpts here. The narrative examines how this accelerated state might be humanity’s doing. I’ll be discussing the novel with him later this month, so feel free to drop any questions you have in our Facebook group.

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Source: www.newscientist.com

Lake of the Lake: Why Did Adam Roberts Opt for Utopia Over Dystopia in His Novel?

Two spacecraft explore the black hole, highlighted in Adam Roberts’ novel.

Science Photo Library / Alamy Stock Photo

The foundation of this novel stemmed from my desire to craft utopian fiction, a first for me, as my earlier works primarily revolved around traditional science fiction. The concept of utopia—portraying an improved or ideal world—predates science fiction itself, famously introduced by Thomas More in his 1516 work, Utopia.

Intrigued by the evolution of this genre, I noted that More’s Utopia inspired numerous copies. Over the subsequent 17th and 18th centuries, a multitude of utopian literature emerged. It flourished in the 19th century and continued into the 20th with notable works like Samuel Butler’s Erewhon (1872), William Morris’s News from Nowhere (1892), H.G. Wells’s A Modern Utopia (1905), and B.F. Skinner’s Walden Two (1948). Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward (1888) stands out as a significant American bestseller, catalyzing the establishment of numerous “Bellamy Clubs” and a nationalist movement aimed at realizing his vision of utopia.

But what about our contemporary landscape? Utopian narratives seem largely relegated, replaced by an overwhelming prevalence of dystopian themes—the dark antithesis. Think of titles like The Hunger Games, Road, Divergent, and The Maze Runner, alongside numerous cyberpunk realms, Battle Royale, and Oryx and Crake. This raises an intriguing question: why has utopia fallen out of favor while dystopia thrives?

One potential explanation is that utopia inherently lacks conflict. When aspiring writers present their imaginative worlds, I often query, “Where’s the conflict?” Without conflict, there’s no drama or narrative. Crafting a perfect utopia is challenging because, by its nature, a flawless realm might lack the tension necessary for storytelling. I’ve often contended that no one truly writes a utopia, to which some might counter with Iain M. Banks’s Culture series as an example. Yet, Banks seldom delves into the euphoria of cultural existence, focusing instead on the dangers surrounding its covert agencies. In my own narrative, the characters are extricated from their utopian comforts, thrust into peril, monstrosities, and adventure.

However, I aspired to delve deeper and scrutinize the very essence of utopia itself. Is the ideal world even attainable? “Can we make the world a little better?”—this is certainly achievable, but can we fully reorganize society to achieve a flawless utopia?

Some years back, I was invited to deliver a keynote address at the Utopialess Conference, an annual event across Europe. During my visit to Tarragona, Spain, I presented my ideas, which can be summarized as follows: Utopia, as a concept, cannot elude the nuances of human nature. Some utopias manifest in authoritarian structures (as seen in More’s original vision), where the authority must reconcile power with utopian ideals. Conversely, others are grassroots endeavors, suggesting that with the removal of material or psychological ailments, humanity can coexist blissfully. I must express my skepticism; as literary critic John Carrey posits, all utopias share a fundamental desire to sanitize reality, simplifying the existence of actual human beings.

In my Utopial speech, I proposed that the most compelling representation of utopia in modern culture is a television series: Teletubbies. These entities—whether genetically modified posthumans, or simply whimsical beings—embody utopian principles, existing in a bubble of childlike simplicity where their needs are easily met, leading to constant joy. Yet, it’s unlikely that adults would perceive Teletubbyland as desirable. This suggests that the concept of utopia is somewhat infantilized. Following my lecture, I mingled at the reception, engaging with attendees. Some were dismissive and turned away when approached, a reaction clarified later by organizers. The conference attracted both literary scholars and true Utopians—those genuinely seeking to realize their visions. They felt I was mocking their aspirations.

I regret they felt insulted, but I stand by my interpretations in Lake of Darkness, where I intertwine social theory, imaginative technological elements, and distinct characters to explore utopian ideals.

Adam Roberts’ Lake of Darkness (Gollancz) is the latest selection for the New Scientist Book Club. Join us and read together here.

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Source: www.newscientist.com