Neandertal Medicine

Neandertals not only ate their vegetables. They used specific plants—even ones that tasted bitter—to treat their ailments. That’s the latest finding from the international team of researchers studying Neandertal remains at in El Sidrón archeological site in northern Spain. Discovered in 1994, El Sidrón has yielded thousands of samples from at least 13 Neandertal individuals.

Using newer techniques of microanalysis, the team studied the dental plaque recovered from teeth of five individuals dating about 50,000 years ago. Lodged in the plaque were tiny microfossil remains of various plants, providing evidence that Neandertals supplemented their diet of meat with a wide range of grain, herbs, and vegetables. The study is published this week in Naturwissenschaften (The Science of Nature).

CAPTION: Researchers working in El Sidrón Cave. Credit: CSIC Comunicación.

"The varied use of plants we identified suggests that the Neanderthal occupants of El Sidrón had a sophisticated knowledge of their natural surroundings which included the ability to select and use certain plants for their nutritional value and for self-medication. While meat was clearly important, our research points to an even more complex diet than has previously been supposed," according to Karen Hardy, a leader in the research team, according to a press release from the University of York.

Neandertals disappeared from Europe and Asia somewhere around 30,000 years ago, often sharing regions with modern humans for thousands of years. Only recently has it become clear that they depended heavily on plants as well as meat for their food.

"The evidence indicating this individual was eating bitter-tasting plants such as yarrow and camomile with little nutritional value is surprising. We know that Neanderthals would find these plants bitter, so it is likely these plants must have been selected for reasons other than taste," said Dr Stephen Buckley, a member of the research team.

The clear implication of the study—that Neandertals recognized the medicinal value of certain plants—provides further evidence of the sophistication of Neanderthal culture and technology. The full scope of Neandertal cultural interaction with modern humans remains an open question.

"El Sidrón has allowed us to banish many of the preconceptions we had of Neanderthals. Thanks to previous studies, we know that they looked after the sick, buried their dead and decorated their bodies. Now another dimension has been added relating to their diet and self-medication," according to Antonio Rosas, also on the research team.

CAPTION: Microscopically visible material entrapped in dental calculus samples – filamentous and cocci bacteria. Credit: Karen Hardy/Naturwissenschaften.

The article, "Neanderthal medics? Evidence for food, cooking and medicinal plants entrapped in dental calculus," is published in the current issue of Naturwissenschafen.

Archaic Interbreeding? So What?

Later this week, I will be speaking at the University of South Florida—Saint Petersburg in their lecture series, a Celebration of the Genome.” My topic is “Finding the Human in the Genome.”

I start with the obvious: Our knowledge of human biology is increasing rapidly, thanks in large part to the Human Genome Project. We can now compare the DNA of one human being with another and ask questions about similarities and differences. We can compare human DNA with the full genomes of chimps and other species.

Most interesting to me is that we can also compare the genome of anatomically modern humans with that of extinct forms of humanity, such as Neandertals or their recently discovered cousins, the Denisovans. What we have found is that in a real sense, they are not extinct at all because their DNA lives on in us.

That leads to something less obvious but more profound. The more we know about human biology, the less we know about human nature. Put another way, the more information we have, the less confident we are that we really know what we mean when we talk about “humanity.”

So what is going on here? Does it really bother anyone—besides me, that is, and perhaps only because I am, after all, a “theologian”? I am asking myself this question a lot these days. Does it really matter that our ancestors interbred with Neandertals and Denisovans and, as time will probably tell, many other forms of archaic humanity?

So what’s the big deal? In some ways I guess it’s like the high school student who runs a paternity test and learns that daddy isn’t daddy.

Or maybe it’s more like this. Years ago, I remember hearing Kári Stefánsson speaking to a roomful of scientists and introducing deCODE Genetics, the Iceland DNA database. He explained the reasons for the project, such as excellent health records, small genetic diversity, and superb genealogical records going back 1,000 years. We Icelanders need to sell more than fish, he said. We want to mine our DNA for all kinds of gene-disease information. Then Stefánsson mentioned that the information sometimes disproved the genealogies. Everyone laughed when he said: “We are not responsible for what our Viking ancestors did back then during the long Icelandic winters.”

Is that it? Is that all that’s happened here, just some forced revisions of the family tree? So what if my ancient ancestors were not exactly what I thought? It happened, after all, some 40,000-100,000 years ago. I am not responsible.

But I am affected. My biology is different from what I once thought. Perhaps I am healthier as a result of the ancient interbreeding, as at least one report has suggested.

More than that, I am coming to see human beings as biologically more diverse and more complicated that we once thought. The diversity part is a bit scary. We have not done well as a species in dealing with our differences.

The complexity part—that’s more of a mystery than a fear. I don’t claim to hear the voices of my Neandertal ancestors calling out from my DNA or reverberating through my metabolic processes. At least not yet.