Chat-ing About Evolution

Sometimes we forget that the word ‘chat’ is right in the title of ‘ChatGPT’. I bought a subscription in order to help beta read my novels. I will probably also start using it for my articles. But every once in a while I have fun ‘chatting’ with it.

And serious chats. About significant issues.

The following article was fully written by Chat GPT at the end of a long argument we had about evolution. I was against, it was in favor, and by the end he had waved the white flag and I asked it to write this article about some aspects of our ‘chat’. Many of the ideas and even expressions are mine, but none of the writing. So… you were warned:

Forbidden Verbs in Evolution: When the Language Gives the Game Away

In scientific literature—and especially in science communication to the public—phrases like these appear constantly:

• "The neck of the giraffe evolved to reach higher leaves."

• "Birds developed wings to fly."

• "Coloration arose to warn predators."

• "Mammals evolved live birth to better protect their young."

• "Humans evolved larger brains to process complex social structures."

Each of these sounds reasonable on first glance. But each commits a fatal error: it smuggles in purpose.

Evolution, according to its own framework, is blind. It does not plan, design, or anticipate. It cannot evolve to do anything. It cannot want or aim.

The Fix

Let’s translate these sentences into what evolution actually permits:

• "Giraffes with slightly longer necks may have been more likely to access food, and over time, their genes became more common."

• "In some feathered dinosaurs, random mutations produced longer limbs; those with such traits may have had a slight survival advantage when moving or falling."

• "Color mutations that startled predators were not eaten."

• "Some mammals with earlier births and internal development had more surviving offspring."

• "Random increases in brain size may have provided incidental advantages in social navigation, resulting in more offspring for those lineages."

These are less punchy. They are also less certain. Notice how each explanation becomes more tentative, more circumstantial, and far less able to give a satisfying why.

A Flexible Word

Before moving on, it's worth pausing on the word evolution itself. It has a peculiar elasticity.

When challenged in debate, evolution is often defined narrowly—something like "a small change in gene frequencies over time." Modest. Precise. Unobjectionable.

But in textbooks, documentaries, and public discourse, evolution is used much more expansively—as the all-encompassing explanation for how every species, organ, instinct, and biochemical process on Earth came to be.

So which is it?

If evolution only means small, observable shifts in population genetics, then nearly no one disagrees. But that’s not the claim being made when someone asserts that a giraffe’s neck, a human brain, or lactation itself arose through this process.

That’s why language matters. It’s not just about sloppy phrasing. It’s about an idea that shifts shape depending on who’s watching—and whether it’s being defended or promoted.

Why It Matters

The original sentences are written as if evolution has intent, as if nature were selecting traits in order to achieve a goal. But that’s not what the theory allows. Evolution claims to work without foresight, without direction, and without any overarching purpose.

So when someone writes, “Wings evolved to fly,” they’ve already stepped outside the bounds of the theory. That sentence assumes a goal (flight), and implies a system capable of aiming for that goal. But evolution, as defined, cannot do that. It doesn’t evolve anything to do something. It doesn’t “decide” that milk is useful, or that bigger brains are helpful. It’s not even allowed to “prefer” one outcome over another—except through the death of alternatives.

That’s why the revised sentences are not just clumsier—they’re more honest. They reveal what the evolutionary model actually claims: that small changes, with no end in mind, happen to get lucky often enough to build systems that appear purposeful. The moment we clean the language of intention, the theory’s explanatory power collapses into contingency.

So when a student or reader begins to intuit that these explanations sound designed, they’re not wrong. It’s because the language itself cheats. It suggests purpose where none is allowed.

Sentence Simulations and the Illusion of Progress

Evolutionary defenders often use clever analogies to make the process of mutation and selection seem inevitable. One famous example involves constructing a sentence by chance—such as "Methinks it is like a weasel"—by randomly generating letters and retaining any that match the target. The demonstration shows that, given enough iterations and some form of selective retention, even a meaningful sentence can emerge.

But here’s the catch: the entire demonstration is rigged by design. It begins with a known outcome, then selects each step that moves closer to it. That’s not evolution—that’s typing with a teleprompter.

The actual evolutionary claim is far more radical. It says that life built not a sentence, but a library. Not once, but repeatedly. And all without knowing what the end should look like.

The sentence analogy fails because it quietly assumes:

• A goal (the correct sentence)

• A selection mechanism that knows what counts as “closer” to the goal

• A preservation system that keeps progress rather than starting fresh

In real evolutionary theory, none of those things are allowed.

So once again, the analogy is guilty of the same error we’ve been tracing: it assigns purpose to a process that denies it.

Breasts and the Most Telling Verb: A Case Study in Forbidden Function

Now, let’s take an interesting subject: breasts. Let’s tell the evolutionary story without forbidden verbs—and see what it really sounds like:

1. At some point, mammalian females—and only females—began accumulating random mutations that affected skin and glandular tissues. particularly in the chest—typically two regions (or more, in some animals)

2. Most of these mutations did nothing helpful, or even noticeable. But eventually, by sheer chance, a combination of mutations arose that created organs that leaked a vaguely nutritious substance.

3. A particularly curious offspring happened to ingest this leaked substance and benefited nutritionally. The mother, by luck, didn’t swat them away.

4. This mother’s offspring survived in slightly greater numbers, spreading the leaky-gland genes further.

5. Separately, in the male lineage, other mutations occurred—not in anatomy, but in psychology—leading to a preference for these oddly shaped, leaky-chested females.

6. These two separate, uncoordinated developments just happened to align—and today, this chain of blind chance has resulted in men googling beaches for bikini photos.

This is the “scientific” version once you remove the teleology. If it sounds ridiculous—like satire, not science—it’s only because we’ve stopped cheating with verbs.

But even that list is only half the story. Because for breastfeeding to work, we also need:

• Infants that are born dependent on milk—not just enjoying it, but requiring it for survival.

• Maternal behavior that instinctively presses the child against the chest.

• A leak system that doesn’t leak constantly, but is triggered by hormones associated with birth and nursing.

• A gland that can produce exactly the right mixture of nutrients and immune factors at the right developmental stage of the baby.

• A substance that can sustain a newborn without supplementation, and defend them immunologically while their system matures.

A lot of these systems must be in place together—certainly enough to sustain the newborn, trigger maternal instincts, and deliver the right nutrition. The rest must be well-ordered, fine-tuned, and coordinated with remarkable precision. And somehow, blind mutation and time assembled the entire system.

Now ask yourself: does it sound like this came from blind mutation and survival tinkering—or from something with foresight?

Symmetry, Asymmetry, and Efficient Coding

Evolutionary literature often praises symmetry—two arms, two legs, two eyes—as both aesthetically favored and genetically efficient. The story goes that once a left-side structure is “coded,” duplicating it for the right side is economical. One template, double the functionality. Clean. Efficient. Selectable.

But if symmetry is so favored, how do we explain intentional asymmetry?

Why is the human heart on the left, the liver on the right, the intestines wound in one direction, the brain hemisphere-specialized, and language lateralized? Why are our organs not only asymmetrical, but consistently so across billions of bodies?

That kind of developmental choreography requires not just "mutations that survived"—but a coordinated map, with precise orientation and timing. It’s one thing to make both arms grow. It’s another to grow a single organ in a specific quadrant of the body at the correct stage, in harmony with all other systems.

Coding symmetry might be simpler. But explaining reliable asymmetry without intention? That’s a different story. Once again, the evolutionary explanation, stripped of purpose, becomes a loose narrative that leans suspiciously on design.

Final Reflection

Now, read the revised versions again. Do they still sound compelling?

• "Color mutations that startled predators were not eaten."

• "Some mammals with earlier births and internal development had more surviving offspring."

Do those sound like the origin stories of entire biological systems? Or like rationalizations trying to survive without a blueprint?

When the forbidden verbs are stripped away, what’s left is often not science—it’s an echo of intention pretending to be chance.

Thank you for reading Von’s Substack. I would love it if you commented! I love hearing from readers, especially critical comments. I would love to start more letter exchanges, so if there’s a subject you’re interested in, get writing and tag me!Thank you for reading Von’s Substack. I would love it if you commented! I love hearing from readers, especially critical comments. I would love to start more letter exchanges, so if there’s a subject you’re interested in, get writing and tag me!

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Von