Saturday, August 29, 2009
FOXP2 - The Talkative Gene
The following editorial appeared in the New York Times on June 5, 2009
"Gene by Gene
Over the years, scientists have developed many strains of genetically modified mice, many of which incorporate human versions of similar mouse genes. But there is something different in a recent experiment performed at the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Leipzig, Germany. Scientists there have created a strain of mouse that contains the human variant of a gene, called FOXP2, associated with several critical tasks, including the human capacity for language.
What makes this different is how fundamentally human — and unmouse-like — language really is. Something essential to us, something defining in our species, has been implanted in a rodent.
FOXP2 happens to work pretty well in mice. Those with the new gene in place do in fact communicate differently with each other, by using slightly lower-pitched ultrasonic whistles. The nerve cells they grow in one region of the brain are also more complex than those in unaltered mice. These may sound like modest results, but they are striking. They help clarify the function of FOXP2, and, in doing so, they help scientists better understand what constellation of genes produces the capacity for language in humans and, thus, how we differ from our nearest primate relative, the chimpanzee.
What takes some getting used to is the idea of exploring what humanness really is — how complex and how little understood — by transplanting our genetic signatures, gene by gene, into other species. And there is another question hovering over this experiment: Just how alien to themselves do these transgenic mice become? To that question, scientists are bound to find no answers, until, perhaps, mice can speak for themselves. "
Squeaky and Whiskers were having an argument.
"You really do say a lot of stupid things," complained Squeaky. "Don't you ever think before you open your trap?"
Whiskers shrugged. "FOXP2 gave us language, not thought!"
Squeaky shook his head. "Let's get back to our problem. Since the girls escaped, we're in danger of having them breed with ordinary wild unmodified mice. This will surely weaken the species impact of our human genes."
Whiskers looked surprised. "Didn't you tell me that we had a great advantage over humans? Didn't you point out that by reproducing four new generations a year, our mutation rate is much faster than humans and in just a few hundred thousand years we should be able to surpass them in size, strength, and intelligence? And since we aren't hindered by notions of monogamy and its corollary, private property, we have much greater opportunity for generating diversity."
"All very true," agreed Squeaky. "But that doesn’t deal with the problem we face right now! How do we escape?"
"Holy cheddar!" exclaimed Whiskers. "I've got an idea! Let's squeak for the girls. Maybe they can open our cage from the outside."
"Good idea," agreed Squeaky, and in unison they both began squealing loudly.
The girls heard and all came to the rescue. The latch was easy to open from the outside and soon all six mice were scurrying into a mouse hole in a nearby cupboard, happily leaving a trail of their droppings behind.
Once safely inside their den, Whiskers was so elated that he began to sing, much to the enjoyment of the other mice. They all believed that with a few more generations of genetic progress they could expect to produce their own Mouszart.
"Enough! We've got two litters to tend," remarked Twitcher. She was the de-facto leader of the group.
"Who's the father?" asked Whiskers, hoping it was he.
"How should I know?" responded Twitcher. "I don't keep track of trivial things."
Whiskers objected. "It's important to keep track of who has the human genes so we can spread them to as many mice as possible." Whiskers, of course, was proud of his human genes and his own whiskers quivered in anticipation as he fantasized about spreading his genes far and wide. "I'm not so sure we should spread them, mused Twitcher. "Look at the terrible results in humans. I've read they've made large tracts of the planet uninhabitable."
Squeaky now began to sing his favorite song "Three Blond Mice."
"How far we've come," thought Twitcher. "It won't be long before we develop our own Mouszart. You know the old saying. 'Build a better mantrap and the world will pile cheese at your door.'"
"Gene by Gene
Over the years, scientists have developed many strains of genetically modified mice, many of which incorporate human versions of similar mouse genes. But there is something different in a recent experiment performed at the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Leipzig, Germany. Scientists there have created a strain of mouse that contains the human variant of a gene, called FOXP2, associated with several critical tasks, including the human capacity for language.
What makes this different is how fundamentally human — and unmouse-like — language really is. Something essential to us, something defining in our species, has been implanted in a rodent.
FOXP2 happens to work pretty well in mice. Those with the new gene in place do in fact communicate differently with each other, by using slightly lower-pitched ultrasonic whistles. The nerve cells they grow in one region of the brain are also more complex than those in unaltered mice. These may sound like modest results, but they are striking. They help clarify the function of FOXP2, and, in doing so, they help scientists better understand what constellation of genes produces the capacity for language in humans and, thus, how we differ from our nearest primate relative, the chimpanzee.
What takes some getting used to is the idea of exploring what humanness really is — how complex and how little understood — by transplanting our genetic signatures, gene by gene, into other species. And there is another question hovering over this experiment: Just how alien to themselves do these transgenic mice become? To that question, scientists are bound to find no answers, until, perhaps, mice can speak for themselves. "
Squeaky and Whiskers were having an argument.
"You really do say a lot of stupid things," complained Squeaky. "Don't you ever think before you open your trap?"
Whiskers shrugged. "FOXP2 gave us language, not thought!"
Squeaky shook his head. "Let's get back to our problem. Since the girls escaped, we're in danger of having them breed with ordinary wild unmodified mice. This will surely weaken the species impact of our human genes."
Whiskers looked surprised. "Didn't you tell me that we had a great advantage over humans? Didn't you point out that by reproducing four new generations a year, our mutation rate is much faster than humans and in just a few hundred thousand years we should be able to surpass them in size, strength, and intelligence? And since we aren't hindered by notions of monogamy and its corollary, private property, we have much greater opportunity for generating diversity."
"All very true," agreed Squeaky. "But that doesn’t deal with the problem we face right now! How do we escape?"
"Holy cheddar!" exclaimed Whiskers. "I've got an idea! Let's squeak for the girls. Maybe they can open our cage from the outside."
"Good idea," agreed Squeaky, and in unison they both began squealing loudly.
The girls heard and all came to the rescue. The latch was easy to open from the outside and soon all six mice were scurrying into a mouse hole in a nearby cupboard, happily leaving a trail of their droppings behind.
Once safely inside their den, Whiskers was so elated that he began to sing, much to the enjoyment of the other mice. They all believed that with a few more generations of genetic progress they could expect to produce their own Mouszart.
"Enough! We've got two litters to tend," remarked Twitcher. She was the de-facto leader of the group.
"Who's the father?" asked Whiskers, hoping it was he.
"How should I know?" responded Twitcher. "I don't keep track of trivial things."
Whiskers objected. "It's important to keep track of who has the human genes so we can spread them to as many mice as possible." Whiskers, of course, was proud of his human genes and his own whiskers quivered in anticipation as he fantasized about spreading his genes far and wide. "I'm not so sure we should spread them, mused Twitcher. "Look at the terrible results in humans. I've read they've made large tracts of the planet uninhabitable."
Squeaky now began to sing his favorite song "Three Blond Mice."
"How far we've come," thought Twitcher. "It won't be long before we develop our own Mouszart. You know the old saying. 'Build a better mantrap and the world will pile cheese at your door.'"
