As living organisms, bacteria are encoded by DNA, and DNA occasionally mutates. Sometimes genetic mutations render a bacterium immune to an antibiotic’s chemical tactics. The few cells that might escape antibiotic pressure then have a sudden advantage: with their counterparts wiped out, resources abound, and the remaining antibiotic-resistant bacteria proliferate. It’s a problem not only for the host—you or me when we are treated with an antibiotic and develop a resistant strain—but also for anyone with whom we happen to share our resistant bacteria, say, on a door handle or keyboard. In fact, most resistant bacteria develop not in people but in livestock fed antibiotics to promote growth; these resistant bacteria infect people through contaminated animal products. This is how even antibiotic “naive” people come to be infected with resistant strains of bacteria.
I see this all the time as a family doctor. A woman has a urinary tract infection. I tell her that her bacteria are resistant to this or that antibiotic, and she says, “But I’ve never taken any of those.” Welcome to the global human soup.
Not “genetic drift”. Although I did forget a critical word. I meant to say “allele frequency drift” which is distinctly different than genetic drift.
Allele frequency drift simply describes a shift in how common a genetic trait exists, or is expressed, within a population group. The overall genetics of the group are the same. Even if there were no changes to the collective genetics of a population over millions of years (no evolution) you can still have allele frequency drift.
This is what I mean by “allele frequency drift isn’t evolution”. It’s a mathematical expression of the ratio a gene is expressed within a population group. It doesn’t describe any genomic changes or mutations.
The first generation can have frequency 1.0 of a trait, gen 2 can have 1.5, gen 3 can have 2.0, and then back down again over the next few generations. But generation 10 can have an (nearly) identical genome to generation 1.