Biomass as Congealed Electricity

Part Of: Biology sequence
Followup To: A Portrait of LUCA
Content Summary: 5800 words, 29 min read

Redox Chemistry

Last time, we reconstructed the nature of LUCA, the root at the tree of life. Today, we’re going to be taking a deeper look at how life makes a living: how cells harvests electricity to build more of themselves.

Life requires energy influx. Energy influx creates disequilibria and maintains them against relaxation. Some disequilibria are differences between locations. A temperature gradient, a pressure difference, and a concentration difference across a membrane are spatial disequilibria, and they relax by transport. Other disequilibria are differences between the present state of a system and an equilibrium state it can reach without moving anywhere. A supersaturated solution, a mixture of hydrogen and oxygen, and an activated molecule such as ATP or a thioester each hold a state disequilibrium, and they relax by transformation.

Out of this menu of fourteen options, life runs a state disequilibrium called redox.  Oxidation is electron loss, reduction is electron gain (recall the mnemonic OIL RIG). Redox (reduction-oxidation) reactions involve both of these as electron transfer dissipates this disequilibrium. 

The remainder of this post will explore how life uses redox, and where these disequilibria come from.

A redox couple is the oxidized and reduced form of the same chemical species. When hydrogen gas (H₂) is oxidized, its bond breaks and it releases two electrons, becoming 2H⁺. When carbon dioxide (CO₂) accepts eight electrons (along with eight protons), it is ultimately reduced to methane (CH₄) and water. A donor-acceptor pairing combines two such half-reactions. We write this pairing as 2H⁺/H₂ → CO₂/CH₄. 

Each couple has a characteristic voltage known as the reduction potential (Eo’). Strongly negative values indicate a couple that gives electrons up readily; positive values represent willingness to accept. Spontaneous donor-acceptor pairings run from smaller reduction potentials to larger. The potential difference ΔE°′ = E°′(acceptor) − E°′(donor) must be positive. Since 2H⁺/H₂ sits at −0.41 V, and CO₂/CH₄ is −0.24 V (potentials at pH 7 from Thauer et al 1977), a methanogen running from hydrogen gas to carbon dioxide gets ΔE°′ = (-0.24) – (-0.41) = 0.17 V. Actual potentials shift with concentrations, gas pressures, and pH, so the available energy depends on the organism’s conditions. 

These relationships are often represented with a redox tower. This is done by sorting couples by reduction potential, and inverting the y-axis. The low reduction potentials (strong donors) sit at the top, and the high values (strong acceptors) are at the bottom. Spontaneous donor-acceptor pairings with positive potential difference can be represented as arrows cascading down the tower. Importantly, the magnitude of the potential difference (arrow length) determines the energy released: ΔG°′ = −nFΔE°′, where n is the number of electrons transferred and F is Faraday’s constant.

Electrochemical Cells

Redox disequilibria relax by transformation: electrons transfer in situ. An electrochemical cell separates the two half-reactions in space, connecting a state disequilibrium (the redox gap) to a spatial one (a voltage across space). Oxidation (electron donation) takes place at the anode, reduction (acceptance) takes place at the cathode. Electrons travel from anode to cathode through a conductor. The accumulating charge differences would quickly squelch the redox reaction. To achieve a cell rather than a capacitor, an electrolyte (e.g., salt solution) carries ionic current between the reaction sites. This closes the circuit and balances charge. 

We might distinguish between two forms of cell. In a galvanic cell, the donor-acceptor pairing is spontaneous (exergonic). Galvanic cells convert chemical potential into work. They “discharge the battery.” In an electrolytic cell, the donor-acceptor pairings are non-spontaneous (endergonic). These cells consume work to generate chemical potential. They “charge the battery.” 

We will soon learn that biological cells are electrochemical cells. To better contextualize this fact, we first turn to non-biological examples. 

Consider the Evans experiment, a single drop of water placed on clean steel. Oxygen reaches the metal fastest near the border of the drop, where the film is thinnest, and slowest at the center. The oxygen-poor center becomes the anode, where iron is oxidized to Fe²⁺ and releases electrons. The oxygen-rich periphery becomes the cathode, where dissolved oxygen accepts those electrons and is reduced to OH⁻. Fe²⁺ and OH⁻ diffuse towards each other and precipitate, producing a characteristic ring of rust. These corrosion processes are ubiquitous because they are exergonic and, on iron, unburdened with a protective oxide film. But here, electron flow is effectively short-circuited through the metal itself. The available Gibbs free energy is dissipated mainly as heat. 

This same process can be harnessed to do work. Alessandro Volta opened the short circuit in 1800. His voltaic pile consisted of repeated zinc–electrolyte–copper sandwiches, each forming a galvanic cell.  Zinc oxidation releases electrons, which are consumed by a reduction at the copper electrode. Because the electrodes are separate pieces of metal, the electrons cannot pass directly between them. They must travel through an external wire, and anything placed in that path, which we will call the load, can capture part of the redox free-energy drop as useful work.

The pile runs because zinc oxidation is downhill. But many reactions we want run uphill. Aluminum is a prized metal, yet on Earth nearly all of it is bound to oxygen. Smelters convert aluminum oxide (Al₂O₃) into aluminum metal by adding three electrons: Al³⁺ + 3e⁻ → Al. Aluminum is a very weak oxidant, with a −1.66 volt potential. Alumina can be reduced with a stronger reductant. Deville did this in 1854 with sodium metal. But the sodium was difficult to manufacture, and aluminum production was as expensive as silver. The Hall–Héroult process lowered costs by instead supplying reducing power directly from electricity. Alumina is dissolved in molten cryolite, and a large current drives the reduction of Al(III) at the cathode to liquid aluminum while carbon is oxidized at the anode. This reaction is non-spontaneous without an external power source. This is why the industry calls aluminum congealed electricity. The metal is a stock: a reservoir of free energy, filled by one process and drained later by another. 

What provides work to an electrolytic cell? A galvanic cell can. Within weeks of Volta’s discovery, Nicholson and Carlisle placed the pile’s wires in water and watched hydrogen and oxygen appear. The voltaic pile supplied the 1.23 volts needed to decompose water. The wire connects driving and driven processes. This wire cannot sustain the reaction when the battery depletes. Both processes must proceed in tandem. In direct coupling, a driving process and a driven process are joined without enough storage to separate their operation in time. 

Direct coupling is insufficient when energy inflow and outflow proceed at different times and different rates. Consider an off-grid solar installation. During the day the panels supply electrical work, but a house draws power continuously. This setup is enabled if a stock is placed on the wire. By day, the stock (a battery) is charged in an electrolytic process. But whenever the house needs power, the battery discharges in a galvanic process. In buffered coupling, a stock separates two processes in time. The stockis filled when power is available and depleted when it is needed. A single cell can perform both electrolytic and galvanic roles. 

Respiration as a Galvanic Cell

Humans eat food and breathe oxygen. Why? Both are delivered to our cells where electrons are stripped from organic matter and sent down the respiratory chain to oxygen. Cellular respiration is a donor-acceptor pairing. Life runs on redox chemistry. 

Consider Cupriavidus necator, a bacterium that strips electrons from hydrogen to give to oxygen. We’ve already seen the electrolytic cell from the Nicholson-Carlisle experiment, which consumed energy to separate water. In 1839, William Grove constructed the reverse. He placed platinum electrodes in separate tubes of hydrogen and oxygen, connected them through an acid, and observed a current. Cupriavidus harvests energy in precisely the same way as Grove’s device: 2H⁺/H₂ against O₂/H₂O. But life utilizes this energy differently, as we will see below. 

Respiration occurs in the electron transport chain (ETC). While the modern ETC has many components, for our purposes we consider three. Electrons are passed from the entry enzyme towards the exit enzyme, which function as anode and cathode respectively. 

The entry enzyme and the exit enzyme differ across organisms. The quinone pool represents their interface. The entry enzyme (e.g., a membrane-bound hydrogenase) must accept electrons from a redox donor and reduce quinone. Quinone takes the two electrons and, from the inner face, two protons, becoming quinol. The exit enzyme (e.g., quinol oxidase), needs only oxidize quinol. (In mitochondria an extra stage, Complex III and cytochrome c, sits between the pool and the exit enzyme.)

The journey of electrons occurs without a wire. Within the proteins, an electron will tunnel between fixed metal centers, iron-sulfur clusters and hemes, spaced no more than about 14 Å apart (Page et al 1999). Between proteins, the electrons continue their journey hitching a ride on the quinone. 

Where does the work go? The ETC enzymes are all embedded in a lipid membrane, which in prokaryotes separates the cytoplasm inside from the periplasm outside. The entry enzyme oxidizes the donor and releases its protons in the periplasm. Quinone is reduced in the membrane and takes its two protons from the cytoplasm. The exit enzyme oxidizes quinol and releases those protons on the periplasm, and reduces the acceptor with further protons drawn from inside. Every pair of electrons that journeys from anode to cathode carries several protons from inside to outside. Redox is a driving process; the protein gradient is a driven process. This coupling of state to spatial disequilibrium is called chemiosmosis

The gradient has an electrical part, Δψ, and a chemical part, ΔpH, and Mitchell (1961) combined them into a single quantity, the proton-motive force (PMF): Δp = Δψ − 59 mV × ΔpH at 25 °C. In mitochondria and most bacteria Δp is 150 to 220 mV, most of it electrical. That is roughly 15 to 20 kJ per mole of protons, and across a membrane 5 nm thick it is a field of about 4 × 10⁷ V/m, ten times the field at which air breaks down and lightning strikes (Lane 2005). Yet despite its strength, the PMF has limited storage capacity. If proton pumping stops while ATP synthesis continues, the gradient runs down. The PMF therefore serves mainly as the immediate link between driving and driven processes. This is direct coupling

ETC behavior resembles a voltaic pile. If you connect it to a load (the ATP synthase, which we will meet next), the PMF produces work. But what happens if you remove or disable the ATP synthase? In this open circuit, respiration slows because protons cannot return and Δp rises until the chain stalls against it. Chance and Williams (1955) starved the ATP synthase by withholding ADP. Respiration slowed to a crawl, only recovering when ADP was reintroduced. If the membrane develops a leak, this powerful voltage would be discharged in a short circuit. This is how brown fat warms newborns through a regulated leak channel, UCP1. An uncontrolled leak is more dangerous, thermodynamically equivalent to burning sugar via combustion. A short circuit releases the disequilibrium into waste heat, without powering the ATP-producing load.

The PMF produced by the ETC is only biologically useful if it performs work. That work happens at the ATP synthase. This rotor produces an activated molecule known as adenosine triphosphate (ATP). Thermodynamics favors hydrolysis of its terminal phosphate bond, leading to more stable adenosine diphosphate (ADP). Proton flux turns the synthase rotor, and the rotation forces ADP and phosphate together on the inner face. Three to five protons pass per ATP, depending on the organism. This process holds ATP, relative to ADP and phosphate, some ten orders of magnitude above the level equilibrium would allow. 

The ATP stock provides a buffer, but it is small. A human turns their whole ATP stock over within a minute or two, working muscle within seconds. The body regenerates roughly its own mass in ATP each day. ATP is called the energy currency of the cell. In many metabolic processes, ATP is used to enable non-spontaneous reactions by the group transfer mechanism. The terminal phosphate is handed to a substrate, which is lifted into a less stable state, and the endergonic step that follows is paid for by the relaxation of ATP toward ADP. Most endergonic steps in metabolism are paid this way. The rest are paid in reducing power, as we will see shortly.

Biological supply and demand rarely coincide. A plant captures sunlight by day but respires continuously. An animal eats at intervals and works continuously. A bacterium meets its substrate in pulses. Our solar-powered house solved this mismatch with the battery. Cells achieve the same buffered coupling solution with hierarchical storage. Phosphate reserves can become ATP directly. But a cell can dissolve only so much. Any reserve held in solution, like phosphocreatine in muscle, is shallow. Carbon-fuel reserves bypass this constraint by leaving the solution via polymerization (which cuts the particle count dramatically) or phase separation. Carbon-fuel reserves (including glycogen, starch, fat, and PHB) thereby unlock much deeper capacity and can last from hours to months. They rely on metabolic processes to convert their redox disequilibrium back into ATP.

We have sketched how redox disequilibrium is harvested to produce the PMF and ATP. But which molecular species does life harvest? 

Modularity and Habitat Colonization

The remarkable fact is that life does not care which span. Animals transfer electrons from organic carbon to oxygen. Prokaryotes can instead use donors and acceptors drawn from minerals, dissolved compounds, and gases. The same ETC (quinone pools, iron-sulfur clusters, a rotary ATP synthase) serves an astonishing diversity of habitats. The entry and exit enzymes are simply swapped. Life most likely began with a single donor-acceptor coupling. But modern life uses modular respiration. Donor and acceptor are configurable; the electron transport chain is largely conserved (Jelen et al 2016).

The voltage gap between an organism’s electron donor and acceptor sets the energy it can extract per electron. Power also requires current: a supply of donor and acceptor in the same place. Because life runs in water, the voltage gap has a ceiling. A substance strong enough to change the oxidation state of water will react with the solvent and cannot reach the organism. “Hydrogen gas (E°′ = −0.41 V) is the strongest reductant that accumulates in water, and O₂ (E°′ = +0.82 V) is the strongest oxidant that is both abundant and stable in it. As a stylized fact, the largest redox gap available in water is about 1.2 volts.

But on the Hadean Earth, oxygen was absent in bulk because nothing besides water photolysis produced it. The first bioenergetic revolution was the origin of life itself. The best electron acceptors available (carbon dioxide, -0.24 V; ferric iron, ≈ 0.0 V) sat within 0.5 volts of organic carbon. Limited by donor supply, the anaerobic biosphere could fix ~10¹³ mol C per year, or ~0.1 TW (Crockford et al 2023). 

Oxygenic photosynthesis heralded the second bioenergetic revolution. Cyanobacteria pushed electrons from water (+0.82 V) into carbon (-0.43 V). Water is inexhaustible, so primary production rose by an order of magnitude, to ~10¹⁴ mol C per year or ~1 TW. The waste product oxygen eventually accumulated in the atmosphere. Heterotrophs were then able to respire this span in the reverse direction. This second revolution allowed life to harvest near its maximum redox span. Subsequent revolutions had to come from current, by relaxing supply constraints.

But life invaded myriad habitats in the early Earth even before oxygenic photosynthesis. The modularity of respiration allows for life to harvest nearly any form of redox disequilibrium anywhere.

A pair of electrons falling 1.23 V from H₂ to O₂ pays 237 kJ per mole of H2, while the same pair falling 0.17 V from H₂ to CO₂, the methanogen’s living, pays 33 kJ. Between them lie the denitrifiers, iron reducers, and sulfate reducers. Redox pairings correlate with sediment depth. Oxygen is consumed at the surface, followed by nitrate, manganese, iron, sulfate, then finally CO2 at the deepest layers (Froelich et al 1979). The biosphere fully occupies the redox tower (Falkowski et al 2008).

Microbiologists have even used gaps in the tower to predict the existence of new organisms. In 1977 Engelbert Broda listed a pairing the tower permitted but no known organism used: ammonium as donor against nitrite as acceptor. He argued that such lithotrophs should exist. They were found in the 1990s (Broda 1977; Strous et al. 1999). 

In sum, the biosphere runs galvanic cells to convert redox disequilibria into a stock of ATP. This is energy metabolism. What does a cell buy with it? 

The Machinery for Biosynthesis 

Life uses this energy to self-replicate, and making more cells requires synthesizing biomass. Energy metabolism finances carbon metabolism.

Let’s review how redox chemistry interacts with organic chemistry.  Autotrophs consume CO₂ and convert it into organic matter via carbon fixation. Carbon fixation transfers two electrons at a time from reductants to carbon. Each transfer moves a carbon atom one rung along a ladder. Define L as the total bond order from a carbon to oxygen, nitrogen, or sulfur, with a double bond counting twice.  As L decreases, the atom transforms from CO2 to carboxyl to carbonyl to alcohol to hydrocarbon. 

Losing L means reducing carbon. But redox does not uniquely constrain carbon chemistry. For bond formation, what matters is the local distribution of those electrons. An electrophile is an electron-poor atom that accepts electrons to form a bond, while a nucleophile is an electron-rich atom or group that donates it. Carbonyls expose a C=O bond, which is electrophilic. Hydrocarbons and alcohols do not expose this, while carboxylates at L = 3 stabilize theirs through resonance and negative charge. 

Biomass is deposited as alcohols and carboxyls, and depleted in carbonyls (Jinich et al 2020).  Yet despite avoiding carbonyls, biosynthesis requires their reactivity. Most biosynthesis reactions involve a nucleophilic carbon attacking an (electrophilic) carbonyl.  This is the carbonyl paradox

L tracks the two-electron transfers from reductants. But the formal oxidation state (z) also tracks changes in the carbon skeleton. At a fixed L, every C-C coupling increments z and every C-C cleavage decrements it. Defining the total C-C bond order (n), one arrives at the helpful formula z = 2L – 4 + n. Formal oxidation state ranges from +4 in CO₂ to −4 in methane, and every electron added lowers it

These are carbon-level metrics. To describe a molecule, we can average the oxidation state of its constituents. Zc denotes the average formal oxidation state of a carbon molecule. Biomass sits in the middle. Bains & Seager (2012) scored ~4300 metabolites across a variety of organisms and found a narrow intermediate band, with the vast bulk of metabolites living near Zc = 0.0. Not every intermediate carbon is a metabolite. But biological intermediates are preferentially stable, with lower Gibbs energy (Jinich et al 2020). 

Biomass is deposited as L = 1 or 3. Biomass polarization explains how this is reconciled with Zc = 0. Fatty acids, amino acids, and anabolic carboxylates all have a reduced body around 0 and an oxidized tip at L = 3, with almost no carbon at L = 2. Sugars are the exception.

Why does life build intermediate carbon? It has tremendous combinatorial depth. Bains & Seager (2012) showed that, out of 1.7 million small molecules built from CHNOPS atoms, 95% were at intermediate oxidation state. This matters because useful biochemicals must satisfy many constraints at once. The solution space is sparse. Combinatorial depth makes selection possible. 

Intermediate carbon is also stable enough to persist in water. Water is gentle enough that most of carbon’s middle can persist. C–C, C–H, and many C–O bonds can survive long enough for complex molecules to accumulate and undergo selection (Pace 2001). Biomass polarization also helps. At cellular pH a carboxylate carries a negative charge, which keeps it dissolved in water and unable to leak through a membrane. Finally, Jinich et al. (2020) find metabolites more soluble than the nonbiological compounds of the same size that life skips.

Before carbon dioxide can be reduced, it must be activated. Activation has two components:

  1. Kinetic lability lowers the barrier to reaction. Lower barriers often dramatically speed up the rate of reaction.
  2. Thermodynamic driving makes a reaction energetically favorable.

Lability and driving are often correlated, but not always. Kinetic trapping describes a metastable molecule. These products “want” to react thermodynamically, but the activation barrier precludes the reaction at reasonable time frames. Nearly all biomass is kinetically trapped. For example, ATP hydrolysis is strongly favorable, yet it persists in water because the uncatalyzed reaction is slow. Biomass remains loaded, and can be harvested for energy once an enzyme opens the barrier.  

Driving does not require a change in oxidation state. A carboxylate is stable, but replacing its oxygen with a better leaving group produces an activated acyl compound such as a thioester or acyl phosphate. The carbon stays at L = 3 throughout.

In metabolism, intermediate carbon passes through the carbonyl hazard zone. It is quickly deactivated in a chemically selective manner. Without that control, abiotic carbon can go awry. In an aldol reaction, two carbonyls enter and one exits, so the reaction can continue indefinitely.  The chemistry fans outward. Dehydration gradually pulls the survivors into aromatic rings. The resultant products include tar or insoluble organic matter (IOM). Tar is a dead end. It can burn, but no biological reaction can return it to a set of small molecules. 

To convert carbon dioxide to biomass, or vice versa, carbon must first become labile. Anabolism requires three ingredients: a carbon source, an energy currency to activate it, and a reductant currency to attach electrons to it. Consider the Calvin cycle. NADPH is too weak a reductant for a carboxylate, so ATP first converts the carboxylation product, 3-phosphoglycerate, into 1,3-bisphosphoglycerate, which NADPH can reduce. Activation comes first; reduction follows; and the product, glyceraldehyde 3-phosphate, is an aldehyde inside the hazard zone. From there the carbon descends by condensation into the forms we know as biomass.

Catabolism does not simply oxidize biomass either. It must first activate the carbon, by phosphorylation or by attachment to coenzyme A, before the oxidations run. The descent returns far more ATP than the climb cost, and the electrons removed reload the reductant pool. Anabolism and catabolism trace the same loop in opposite directions.

Reductant Carriers

We are ready to return to electrochemistry. Galvanic cells convert redox disequilibria into a stock of ATP. Cells use this energy to fix carbon. 

The requirement to reduce carbon is in tension with the modularity of respiration. What if the respiratory substrate is not strong enough to reduce carbon?  H₂S sits at −0.27 V, NH₄⁺ at +0.34 V, NO₂⁻ at +0.43 V, and Fe²⁺ at +0.77 V in the acidic water where the best-studied iron oxidizers grow. All of these are far weaker donors than biosynthesis requires. How do these cells reduce carbon uphill?

To address this, life routes biosynthetic electrons through two universal reductant carriers. The nicotinamide cofactors NAD(P)H sit at −0.32 V under standard conditions. Ferredoxin, a small iron-sulfur protein, sits between −0.40 and −0.50 V depending on the organism. Once carbon is activated, NAD(P)H can reduce it, and it serves nearly all biosynthetic reductions. Ferredoxin covers the few steps that need a stronger reductant. After donating electrons to biosynthesis, these carriers return in their oxidized forms and must be reduced again.

A reduction carrier provides other benefits beyond enabling the reduction of carbon. The diversity of respiration enables flexible energy capture. But it would be inefficient to tune thousands of metabolic pathways to many dozens of environmental reductants. The reduction currency provides modularity: an adaptor layer between energy capture and biosynthesis. It also provides regulation. Rather than leaving reductants at the potential and concentration imposed by the local habitat, the cell can maintain its reductant pools at controlled redox states. For example, NAD(P)H potential is ideally suited to keep dangerous carbonyls at low steady-state concentration (Jinich et al 2018).

But how does a cell finance carrier recycling? When the environmental reductant is lower potential than the reductant carriers, carrier recycling doesn’t require energy. Hydrogen-eating autotrophs can produce NADH directly, because hydrogen at nominal conditions sits above NAD on the tower. Heterotrophs can reduce their carriers for free as well. The electrons in organic carbon span a wide range of potentials, and metabolism harvests only the deepest ones. 

But what happens when the environmental reductant is weaker than the carrier? In that situation, carrier recycling requires work. This is where life can manifest its metabolism as an electrolytic cell. 

The Electrolytic Cell

We met electrolytic cells in industrial reduction of alumina to aluminum. If stronger reductants are unavailable, the smelter can deploy external work, and leave that work embodied in the metal. If no stronger reductants are available to life, it can harness PMF from its galvanic cell to perform carrier recycling. Then biosynthesis drives CO₂ to biomass from the reductant carriers. Biomass is congealed electricity. 

When reductant recycling is not free, biology has found two ways to fund it with redox disequilibria.

First, reverse electron transport (RET) can pay from the wire. The PMF can push electrons from the quinone pool to NAD⁺, or from H₂ to ferredoxin. Complex I does this in nitrite and iron oxidizers. Ech does this in methanogens that carry cytochromes.

Second, electron bifurcation also taps energy metabolism, but pays earlier. Bifurcation takes an electron pair from a weak reductant and splits it: one electron falls to a high-potential acceptor, and the energy released pays for lifting the other onto ferredoxin.

Both of these solutions involve a redox disequilibrium powering two loads in parallel: synthesizing energy currency and reductant carriers. Energy metabolism and carbon metabolism compete. But there is another way to synthesize reductants without drawing on a redox disequilibrium. 

Light can serve the same purpose. A photosynthetic reaction center absorbs a photon and returns the electron at a lower potential than it received. The photon raises the electron by more than one volt, but part of that energy is spent to make the reaction irreversible. The resultant voltage gain (about 0.5 volts) subsidizes carrier recycling.  A chemotroph needs an environmental reductant above its carriers on the tower, or it pays for the lift with bifurcation or RET. But an anoxygenic phototroph can use an environmental reductant that is 0.5 volts weaker, because light pays for that part of the lift. 

Two families of reaction centers exist. 

Purple bacteria carry the type II reaction center, which deposits its electron in the quinone pool. The electron travels through the ETC cyclically, and produces PMF. Quinol is a weaker reductant than NADH, so reductant recycling must use RET. The purple bacterium converts PMF into reductant.

Green sulfur bacteria carry the type I reaction center, which deposits its electron in ferredoxin. Light pays for reductant recycling directly. Electrons reach the reaction center through the ETC, making PMF along the way. They come from the environmental reductant, or from ferredoxin sent back around the loop. The green sulfur bacterium spends reductant to make PMF, the reverse of the purple bacterium. 

Light arrives by day, but energy expenditure is continuous. Every phototroph relies on carbon-based storage to bridge the gap. Bacteria use glycogen; plants use starch. The stock is filled by electrolytic anabolism by day, and drained by galvanic catabolism by night. The structure mirrors the solar-power battery bank: two direct couplings separated in time by a stock. 

Oxygenic photosynthesis wired both reaction centers in series. The type II center moves electrons from water to the quinone pool. Their descent through the ETC produces energy. The type I center lifts the electrons into a ferredoxin carrier. These photons together pay the whole 1.25 volt span. This was the second bioenergetic revolution.

To sum up, galvanic and electrolytic circuits can coexist. The galvanic circuit harvests the environmental redox gradient as PMF. The electrolytic circuit uses PMF to lift electrons onto the carriers, to enable biosynthesis. A nitrite oxidizer runs both circuits continuously. A phototroph decouples galvanic and electrolytic circuits, with carbon-based storage as the “battery” stock in between.

One question remains. If life harvests redox gradients, what creates the gradients in the first place? 

A Planet-Sized Battery

The battery existed before life learned to tap it. The Earth is a planet-sized redox battery (Smith & Morowitz 2016). Its anode is the mantle, rich in ferrous iron. Its cathode is the ocean and atmosphere, rich in carbon dioxide. The resultant redox span from H₂ to CO₂ is 0.2 volts. LUCA tapped this battery first. Plug-and-play respiration came later.

The atmosphere was birthed from volcanic degassing. This process built an oxidizing atmosphere of H₂O, CO₂, N₂, and SO₂. Photodissociation further oxidized the planetary cathode. Ultraviolet light breaks down water in the stratosphere. Hydrogen is prone to escape into the exosphere. The remaining oxygen is electron-hungry, oxidizing whatever it meets. Escaping hydrogen oxidizes our surface (Catling et al 2001). On Earth the process is slow, because the tropopause cold trap freezes water out before it reaches the stratosphere (Catling & Kasting 2017). Venus had no such trap, and photodissociation cost it an ocean (Kasting & Pollack 1983).

The mantle is rich with ultramafic rock, with a great deal of ferrous iron in olivine and pyroxene. Ferrous iron (Fe²⁺) holds one electron more than ferric iron (Fe³⁺), and loves to shed electrons. Serpentinization occurs when seawater reaches this rock. Ferrous iron gives its electron to water, ferric iron is left behind in magnetite and serpentine, and the electron leaves as H₂. H₂ carries the mantle’s reducing power, bringing the planetary anode up into the ocean. 

The two terminals do not discharge spontaneously. 4H₂ + CO₂ → CH₄ + 2H₂O is kinetically trapped. The reaction needs a catalyst. Life bridges the gap.

Other planets have iron and water, and some have freed oxygen by photodissociation. But corrosion usually stops. As the surface rusts, the electron-rich iron below becomes blocked. Current persists where fresh rock continues to meet water. On Earth, plate tectonics exposes fresh ultramafic rock at ridges, and subducts oxidized crust. But tectonics is not a hard requirement. Enceladus produces redox disequilibria from a porous core repeatedly damaged from tidal forces (Waite et al. 2017). 

Modern serpentinization yields ~10¹² mol of H₂ per year (Cannat et al. 2010; Worman et al. 2016). At 0.2 volts that is ~1.2 GW of chemical power. This planetary battery may have generated enough power to spark the first bioenergetic revolution (Russell et al. 2010).

Until next time. 

References

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  • Pace (2001). The universal nature of biochemistry.
  • Page et al (1999). Natural engineering principles of electron tunnelling in biological oxidation–reduction.
  • Russell & Hall (1997). The emergence of life from iron monosulphide bubbles at a submarine hydrothermal redox and pH front.
  • Russell et al (2010). Serpentinization as a source of energy at the origin of life.
  • Sleep et al (2004). H₂-rich fluids from serpentinization: geochemical and biotic implications.
  • Smith & Morowitz (2016). The Origin and Nature of Life on Earth: The Emergence of the Fourth Geosphere.
  • Strous et al (1999). Missing lithotroph identified as new planctomycete.
  • Thauer et al (1977). Energy conservation in chemotrophic anaerobic bacteria.
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  • Worman et al (2016). Global rate and distribution of H₂ gas produced by serpentinization within oceanic lithosphere.

A Portrait of LUCA

Part Of: Biology sequence
Content Summary: 3000 words, 15 min read

The Basic Facts of Abiogenesis

From the geochemistry of the early Earth, life emerged. The abiogenesis phenomenon is interesting in at least two contexts:

First, it is one of the most difficult unsolved scientific problems in the 21st century. Common descent describes how all of the marvelous diversity of biology stem from a single source: a single celled organism called the Last Universal Common Ancestor (LUCA). We have a clear mechanistic understanding for how this complexification was possible: evolution by natural selection

But natural selection relies on the machinery of genetic inheritance to produce complexity. How was it possible to create the sophisticated nanomachinery of LUCA (e.g., ATP synthase) before natural selection took effect? What other process besides natural selection can produce complexification?

Second, abiogenesis research is relevant to questions in astrobiology:

Could extraterrestrial life have begun much earlier? 

  • Gen 1 stars (born 13.5-13 Ga) had no exoplanets because the heavy elements required for planetary cores didn’t exist (supernova nucleosynthesis arrived later). 
  • Gen 2 stars (born 13-10 Ga) may have been able to support life, but these exoplanets were small, terrestrial, and less metallic – unable to furnish geomagnetism nor plate tectonics. 
  • Gen 3 stars (born 10-0 Ga) can support life. Exoplanets in this era now include gas giants, and are highly metallic. Geomagnetism protects us from UV radiation, and plate tectonics promote mineral diversity. 

Is abiogenesis easy or hard? The Earth was born 4.6 Ga, with the Theia impactor at 4.54 Ga creating the moon and the Moneta impactor at 4.51 Ga providing siderophilic veneer. Despite such impacts, zircon evidence now suggests a cool early earth, with oceans appearing as early as 4.4 Ga. Critically, our evidence for life arrives very early (Isua banded-iron formations at 3.8 Ga, enriched carbon-12 in zircon graphite at 4.1 Ga). Abiogenesis occurred only ~500 million years after the sterilizing impact of Moneta! Speed is evidence of ease.

If the universe has billions of potentially habitable planets, why haven’t we found any aliens? One explanation to the Fermi Paradox is the Great Filter – some incredibly difficult barrier that prevents life from becoming spacefaring. The scary part is we don’t know where this filter is: behind us (we got incredibly lucky to make it this far) or ahead of us (something typically destroys civilizations before they can spread across the galaxy). If abiogenesis is indeed easy, this might mean the Great Filter is ahead of us.

LUCA from Paleobiogeography

To understand the journey of abiogenesis, we must first understand the destination. What do we know about LUCA?

The history of life constrains our search. Two domains of simple life (prokaryotes) emerged in the Hadean: bacteria and archaea. But eukaryotes (complex life) emerged much later, as a result of endosymbiosis between the two families. 

Life was microbial for the first 80% of Earth’s history. But in 1.0 Ga, multicellularity was invented. Starting at that time, multicellularity was invented multiple times, but it only really took off in crown group eukaryotes. 

LUCA must have been anaerobic. For the first half of Earth’s history, oxygen was locked in water and rocks – there was no free oxygen in the atmosphere. Only when photosynthesis caused the Oxygen Catastrophe in 2.4 Ga did atmospheric oxygen go from 0 to 10%. 

LUCA is simple (prokaryotic), microbial (unicellular), and anaerobic.

LUCA from Phylogenetics

We can learn more about LUCA from genetic analyses. 

Genes conserved across all species constitute what is called the Universal Gene Set of Life (UGSL), and consists of less than 100 genes (Harris et al 2003). Not surprisingly, the UGSL is dominated by translation-related genes. Here are those ribosomal genes in black:

Many differences between archaea and bacteria arose after they diverged. But some differences are more troubling. First among these is the Lipid Divide. Both domains build cells with the phospholipid bilayer membranes, so it is natural to suspect that LUCA had a similar coat. But almost all biochemical details are mirrored! They use different glycerol backbones, different hydrophobic chains (isoprenoid vs fatty acids), different links to those chains (ether vs ester), and different biosynthetic pathways (FAS+AT vs aMVA+PT). 

There are three major theories for the lipid composition of LUCA:

  • Heterochiral theories. LUCA had both lipid biochemistries available. Heterochiral membranes were recently found to be viable (Caforio et al 2018). 
  • Thermoreduction theories. Many archaea are adapted to extreme environments. So LUCA had a bacterial phospholipid, and the more robust archaeal lipids were derived to support more extreme niches.
  • Protocompartment theories. LUCA didn’t use phospholipids at all! It used a simple fatty acid membrane, or coacervate droplets, or mineral pores to achieve compartmentalization.

Another divergence is even more troubling: bacteria and archaea use completely different DNA replicase proteins (Forterre et al 2013). 

Neither divide has a satisfying resolution. Each of the three lipid hypotheses faces serious objections, and the DNA replicase situation is arguably worse: there is no consensus account for how two non-homologous replication machineries could descend from a single ancestor, which has led some (e.g., Forterre 2006) to argue that DNA itself was a viral invention acquired independently by the bacterial and archaeal lineages. Any portrait of LUCA that papers over these divides is overconfident.

LUCA from Biochemistry

At the atomic level, organisms are built with CHNOPS: Carbon, Hydrogen, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Phosphorous, and Sulfur. 

At the molecular level, life is composed of three biopolymers.

  • Glycans are made out of monosaccharides (e.g., glucose). 
  • Proteins are made out of amino acids.
  • Nucleic acids are made out of nucleotides

Most of our discussion will center on proteins and nucleic acids. Their constituents are themselves large, complex molecules. These monomers are built on an unchanging backbone and a variable side chain. For nucleotides, there are 4 available side chains (purine and pyrimidine nitrogenous bases). For amino acids, there are 20 available side chains (nonpolar, polar-uncharged, polar-positive, polar-negative R groups).

Organic polymers like polyesters aren’t particularly flexible. But biopolymers manifest extreme functional sophistication. And the polyfunctionality of nucleic acids and glycans must not be understated (Matange et al 2025).

Biopolymers also exhibit functional interdependence. Condensation of nucleotides is catalyzed by proteins, and condensation of amino acids is catalyzed by RNA. Biopolymers are heterocomplementary: proteins can recognize and bind to proteins, DNA, polyglycans, and small molecules. Nonbiological organic polymers do not manifest heterocomplementarity. 

LUCA from Microbiology

Another way to approach LUCA is to catalog biological universals: mechanisms shared by all life forms in existence. These universals can be organized in three categories: self-replication, metabolism, and compartmentalization. Let’s discuss each in turn.

The central genius of life was the discovery of proteins. By chaining amino acids together in long biopolymers, these polypeptides fold into arbitrary shapes. This invention is so powerful because in chemistry, structure determines function: arbitrary shapes unlock myriad potential behaviors. Proteins can form fibers, motors, containers, transporters, sensors, signals, optical devices, adhesives, pores, brushes, and pumps. 

Proteins aren’t synthesized randomly – they are produced by template. Nucleotides combine together in long biopolymers known as nucleic acids. Double-stranded DNA is copied into single-stranded mRNA via the process of transcription. Then, during protein synthesis in the ribosome, codons (RNA triplets) specify which amino acids to attach in which order. This process of translation is defined by a codon-amino acid map known as the genetic code

A gene is simply a patch of RNA that completely specifies a particular protein sequence. Your genome (genotype) is nothing more than a recipe for a proteome (phenotype). When philosophers speak of an innate desire to survive, that motivation must be carried by proteins. Natural selection operates on protein design. Nothing more and nothing less.

The Central Dogma describes the flow of information in biopolymers. The black arrows are allowed processes; the red arrows are not observed. Proteins cannot replicate because they are incapable of base pairing. Once information gets into a protein, it cannot get out again!

Why is life so fixated on proteins? To better understand this, it helps to consider metabolism. This is a chemical reaction network which provides two basic functions: 

  1. Catabolism (“energy metabolism”), a destructive process which breaks down complex compounds. This prominently includes pathways of cellular respiration, a controlled version of combustion in which glucose is slowly converted into carbon dioxide, water, and energy. 
  2. Anabolism (“carbon metabolism”), a constructive process which biosynthesizes new organic compounds. This includes pathways of carbon fixation (like Acetyl-CoA), which converts simple inorganic carbon dioxide into complex organics.

Enzymes are protein-based catalysts that reduce the activation energy of thermodynamically favorable (exergonic) reactions, speeding them up by many orders of magnitude. Some metabolic steps, however, are thermodynamically disfavorable (endergonic) and will not proceed spontaneously. Enzymes handle these by coupling them to a favorable reaction, making the combined process exergonic. The enzyme then catalyzes that coupled reaction in the usual way — by lowering its activation energy.

The 20 amino acids have a limited chemical repertoire; cofactors extend it — enabling electron transfer, redox chemistry, and group transfers that amino acid side chains cannot perform alone. There are two categories of cofactors: metal ions (e.g., Mg²⁺, and Fe²⁺), and organic molecules (i.e., coenzymes), many of which are derived from B vitamins (e.g., NAD). Without its cofactor, an enzyme (called an apoenzyme) is typically inactive. The complete, functional assembly is the holoenzyme.

Finally, while the Central Dogma traditionally depicts a linear flow of information from DNA to RNA to Protein, metabolism reveals that this dogma is actually a loop. Proteins are not just passive end-products; they are the active machinery required to synthesize and maintain the very DNA and RNA that encode them, creating a self-sustaining cycle of synthesis and regulation.

Modern metabolism and self-replication does not occur in an undifferentiated “primordial soup”. They occur inside impermeable membranes made of phospholipids. 

Compartmentalization does a lot of heavy lifting at once: it shields nucleic acids from genetic parasites, buffers the system against environmental stress, and locally concentrates enzymes and substrates to speed reactions. By keeping metabolites and genetic material from simply diffusing away, it preserves hard-won products and information. Selective, protein-based gates regulate traffic—letting in foodstuffs, exporting waste—and can couple chemiosmosis to maintain a strong proton-motive force (≈3 pH units and ~200 mV), effectively a “cellular battery” that powers metabolic work. Finally, a stable compartment provides the physical unit that can reliably copy itself and propagate success via binary fission.

LUCA from Virology

Previous sections reconstructed LUCA as a cell. But modern oceans contain ten virions for every microbe. Viruses coevolve with cells, outnumber them, and may even predate them. Any reconstruction of early life that ignores them is incomplete.

Once inside the cell, virulent viruses initiate the lytic cycle. Their genes hijack the host cell’s machinery to make more copies of themselves, ultimately rupturing the membrane and spilling newly-minted virions into the environment. They rely on horizontal transmission, in contrast to chromosomes which rely on vertical transmission via mitosis.  

Viruses are not the only mobile genetic element (MGE) using horizontal transmission. Cells can contain small (often circular) nucleic acid outside of the chromosomes. These plasmids don’t kill the cell to transfer their DNA, but instead use conjugative sex pili to copy themselves into neighboring cells. Plasmid genetic material can be more similar to viruses than the chromosome. Some plasmids and viruses differ by no more than a capsid gene (Krupovic & Bamford 2010).

But virulence and conjugation are extremes. While virulent viruses are indifferent to cellular fitness, temperate viruses benefit from vertical transmission via the lysogenic cycle. They are thus less pathogenic. Some plasmids cannot construct the sex pilus and are capable of horizontal transmission only rarely. Jalasvuori (2012) shows that nucleic acids can be organized into a continuum:

This framework explains the distribution of replicator properties:

  • Class 3-5 all sense damage to the host cell, and initiate horizontal transfer when they detect vehicle stress. For example, herpesviruses reactivate from latency under host stress, producing cold sores.
  • Class 1 retains the core genome (e.g., DNA replication). Class 2-3 retain the accessory genome (e.g., virulence, antibiotic resistance).
  • Class 1-5 all retain addiction modules (a.k.a., MGE stabilization modules) like the toxin-antitoxin (TA) system (Mendoza-Guido & Rojas-Jimenez 2025). Many plasmids produce both a toxin and the antitoxin. Since the toxin has a longer half-life, loss of the plasmid entails death of the host. The restriction-modification (RM) system works in a very similar way (Kobayashi 2001).

There are three hypotheses for the origin of viruses:

  • The regression hypothesis claims that viruses are cells that progressively lost genetic information in their journey towards obligate parasitism.
  • The escape hypothesis claims that viruses originate from MGEs that gained increasingly sophisticated methods of horizontal transfer.
  • The virus-first hypothesis claims that viruses predate LUCA, originating from the primordial pool of replicators prior to the evolution of cells.

Dependent niches incentivize genome reduction. Mitochondria have transferred many genes to their host cells’ nuclei (Andersson & Kurland 1998), and parasitic bacteria like Rickettsia have shed much of theirs (Diop et al 2019). As obligate parasites, viruses should face the same reductive pressure — but what if they weren’t always parasitic? The discovery of giant viruses (in the phylum Nucleocytoviricota), with the first known translation-related machinery in a virus, was a revelation. In the spirit of the regression hypothesis, Boyer et al (2010) described them as living fossils of this fourth domain. But, while the relationship between reduction and parasitism is strong, recent phylogenetic work (Monttinen et al 2021) does not support this hypothesis.

The escape hypothesis accounts for some viral genes – particularly those encoding capsid proteins – which have clear cellular homologs. But viral hallmark genes, especially those involved in replication, are shared across diverse viral lineages yet absent from cellular genomes (Koonin et al 2006). If these genes escaped from cells, their cellular homologs should exist. Krupovic et al (2019) propose a chimeric origin that reconciles the escape and virus-first views. They argue that structural genes were captured from hosts, but replicator genes descend from primordial self-replicating elements that predate cells. 

Theoretical models reinforce this view — selfish genetic elements arise inevitably in any replicator system, suggesting that genetic parasites have been components of life from the very beginning. Before replicators evolved error correction mechanisms, early replicators also faced a hard physical constraint known as Eigen’s error threshold: RNA replication error rates impose an upper bound on genome size. Viroids, the simplest known replicators at ~300 nucleotides, sit near this boundary. If the chimeric model is correct and viral replicator genes descend from primordial self-replicating elements, viroids may be the closest living relatives of those elements. Their structural simplicity, their lack of protein-coding capacity, and the recent discovery of viroid-like circular RNAs across diverse environments (Lee et al 2023) are all consistent with deep ancestry.

Looking Beyond the Root

The portrait above shows LUCA as anaerobic, prokaryotic, protein-dependent, chromosomally organized, besieged by viruses. But every feature of that portrait is also a choice made from a menu of alternatives that were never taken:

  • Alternative codes. Of ~500 amino acid species, only 20 are included in the genetic code, even though codons could distinguish up to 64. Central metabolites like ornithine, GABA, and β-alanine are biosynthesized but never translated.
  • Alternative replicator backbones. 5-carbon sugars (ribose, deoxyribose) are a strange choice for a nucleic acid backbone (Eschenmoser 1999). Chemists have built alternative replicators from 4-carbon sugars (TNA) and 3-carbon sugars (GNA).
  • Alternative protein backbones. Proteins are built from α-amino acids, but foldamers made from β, γ, and δ-amino acids can be more resistant to proteolysis and heat denaturation than their α-counterparts (Gellman 1998).

McKay (2004) captures this puzzle visually: nonbiological chemistry produces smooth distributions of organic molecules, but life uses only a sparse set of spikes against that background.


Each of these alternatives works better than what life uses, on some axis. So the interesting question isn’t whether LUCA could have been different; it’s why it wasn’t. Why haven’t we found shadow biospheres running on TNA, or β-peptide proteomes, or 34-amino-acid codes? Two possibilities: either we haven’t looked hard enough, or these choices were frozen so early and so deeply that no later lineage could back out of them. Both answers require understanding what happened before LUCA: the evolution of the ribosome, the freezing of the code, the crystallization of a chromosome out of competing replicators.

Beyond the root of the tree of life lies the origin. That’s the subject of our next post.

References

  • Andersson & Kurland (1998). Reductive evolution of resident genomes
  • Bowman et al (2020). Root of the Tree: The Significance, Evolution, and Origins of the Ribosome
  • Boyer et al (2010). Phylogenetic and Phyletic Studies of Informational Genes in Genomes Highlight Existence of a 4th Domain of Life Including Giant Viruses
  • Caforio, A., et al. (2018). “Converting Escherichia coli into an archaebacterium with a hybrid heterochiral membrane.”
  • Diop et al (2019). Paradoxical evolution of rickettsial genomes
  • Eschenmoser (1999). Chemical etiology of nucleic acid structure.
  • Forterre (2006). The origin of viruses and their possible roles in major evolutionary transitions.
  • Forterre et al (2013) Origin and Evolution of DNA and DNA Replication Machineries
  • Gellman (1998). Foldamers: A manifesto.
  • Harris et al (2003). The genetic core of the universal ancestor. 
  • Jain et al (2014). Biosynthesis of archaeal membrane ether lipids
  • Jalasvuori (2012). Vehicles, replicators, and intercellular movement of genetic information: evolutionary dissection of a bacterial cell. 
  • Koonin et al (2006). The ancient virus world and evolution of cells. 
  • Kobayashi (2001). Behavior of restriction–modification systems as selfish mobile elements and their impact on genome evolution.
  • Krupovic et al (2019). Origin of viruses: primordial replicators recruiting capsids from hosts.
  • Krupovic & Bamford (2010). Order to the viral universe
  • Lee et al (2023). Mining metatranscriptomes reveals a vast world of viroid-like circular RNA
  • Matange et al (2025). Biological polymers: evolution, function, and significance.
  • McKay (2004). What Is Life—and How Do We Search for It in Other Worlds?
  • Mendoza-Guido & Rojas-Jimenez (2025). Beyond plasmid addiction: the role of toxin-antitoxin systems in the selfish behavior of mobile genetic elements. 
  • Monttinen et al (2021). The genomes of nucleocytoplasmic large DNA viruses: viral evolution writ large