The phylum Porifera is, from a human point of view, rather primitive. The members of the group, called sponges, don’t have a head, a tail, any internal organs, and, in some, any hard parts. Those that do have hard parts are critters that make needle-like structures of calcium carbonate or silica that interlock like the pieces in a game of jacks. These sponges seem to be nothing but a collection of cells that work together to make single animals that filter water for food.
The sponges without needlelike spicules have a support system made of spongin. It’s the spongin sponge you can use to wash your car without scratching it. Of course, today most people use artificial sponges, and many people have probably never seen a poriferan either alive or dead. Alive in the water, they can be very colorful, but, once removed from their liquid residence, they lose their color rather fast.
Sponges have been around for a very long time, more than half a billion years. In that time they have diversified, but they still retain that “primitive” character they’ve always had. You might say, “You’d think these critters would get a brain after all those years of evolution.” Somehow, without a brain, the cells of a sponge work together as a unified organism, even “falling asleep” at times. Unified action like that implies communication.
Yet, in spite of the primitive nature of sponges, the individuals survive and even thrive. A half billion years is, well, a really long time. As primitive as they are, sponges have been doing something right. It doesn’t look as though humans, who have been around for only 200,000 years, have the wherewithal to last a half billion years. Before and during our emergence, there were other creatures with brains, species much like us. In comparison with the history of sponges, not one of those species lasted very long; otherwise, your neighbor might be Australopithecus afarensis, Little Lucy. What did our ilk do wrong? What are we, with our advanced nervous systems topped by a brain, doing wrong?
It couldn’t be all this violence, could it? It couldn’t be self-destructive behavior, could it?
Now, don’t misunderstand. I don’t want the life of a sessile sponge. I like having a brain and being motile. I just know that when I dive in the ocean and see colorful sponges, I don’t see them chasing after one another in a mindless attempt to injure or kill. They have enough to do defending themselves against the vicissitudes of their environment, filtering some water, and, somehow without a brain, internally communicating for the good of the individual organism. That seems smart.
Does having a brain mean being stupid?
The sponges without needlelike spicules have a support system made of spongin. It’s the spongin sponge you can use to wash your car without scratching it. Of course, today most people use artificial sponges, and many people have probably never seen a poriferan either alive or dead. Alive in the water, they can be very colorful, but, once removed from their liquid residence, they lose their color rather fast.
Sponges have been around for a very long time, more than half a billion years. In that time they have diversified, but they still retain that “primitive” character they’ve always had. You might say, “You’d think these critters would get a brain after all those years of evolution.” Somehow, without a brain, the cells of a sponge work together as a unified organism, even “falling asleep” at times. Unified action like that implies communication.
Yet, in spite of the primitive nature of sponges, the individuals survive and even thrive. A half billion years is, well, a really long time. As primitive as they are, sponges have been doing something right. It doesn’t look as though humans, who have been around for only 200,000 years, have the wherewithal to last a half billion years. Before and during our emergence, there were other creatures with brains, species much like us. In comparison with the history of sponges, not one of those species lasted very long; otherwise, your neighbor might be Australopithecus afarensis, Little Lucy. What did our ilk do wrong? What are we, with our advanced nervous systems topped by a brain, doing wrong?
It couldn’t be all this violence, could it? It couldn’t be self-destructive behavior, could it?
Now, don’t misunderstand. I don’t want the life of a sessile sponge. I like having a brain and being motile. I just know that when I dive in the ocean and see colorful sponges, I don’t see them chasing after one another in a mindless attempt to injure or kill. They have enough to do defending themselves against the vicissitudes of their environment, filtering some water, and, somehow without a brain, internally communicating for the good of the individual organism. That seems smart.
Does having a brain mean being stupid?
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