~

In the past four chapters I have shown why new ideas from the sciences of human nature do not undermine humane values. On the contrary, they present opportunities to sharpen our ethical reasoning and put those values on a firmer foundation. In a nutshell:

• It is a bad idea to say that discrimination is wrong only because the traits of all people are indistinguishable.

• It is a bad idea to say that violence and exploitation are wrong only because people are not naturally inclined to them.

• It is a bad idea to say that people are responsible for their actions only because the causes of those actions are mysterious.

• And it is a bad idea to say that our motives are meaningful in a personal sense only because they are inexplicable in a biological sense.  {194} 

These are bad ideas because they make our values hostages to fortune, implying that someday factual discoveries could make them obsolete. And they are bad ideas because they conceal the downsides of denying human nature: persecution of the successful, intrusive social engineering, the writing off of suffering in other cultures, an incomprehension of the logic of justice, and the devaluing of human life on earth.

KNOW THYSELF

N

ow that I have attempted to make the very idea of human nature respectable, it is time to say something about what it is and what difference it makes for our public and private lives. The chapters in Part IV present some current ideas about the design specs of the basic human faculties. These are not just topics in a psychology curriculum but have implications for many arenas of public discourse. Ideas about the contents of cognition — concepts, words, and images — shed light on the roots of prejudice, on the media, and on the arts. Ideas about the capacity for reason can enter into our policies of education and applications of technology. Ideas about social relations are relevant to the family, to sexuality, to social organization, and to crime. Ideas about the moral sense inform the way we evaluate political movements and how we trade off one value against another.

In each of these arenas, people always appeal to some conception of human nature, whether they acknowledge it or not. The problem is that the conceptions are often based on gut feelings, folk theories, and archaic versions of biology. My goal is to make these conceptions explicit, to suggest what is right and wrong about them, and to spell out some of the implications. Ideas about human nature cannot, on their own, resolve perplexing controversies or determine public policy. But without such ideas we are not playing with a full deck and are vulnerable to unnecessary befuddlement. As the biologist Richard Alexander has noted, “Evolution is surely most deterministic for those still unaware of it.”¹

Chapter 12

In Touch with Reality

The starting point for acknowledging human nature is a sheer awe and humility in the face of the staggering complexity of its source, the brain. Organized by the three billion bases of our genome and shaped by hundreds of millions of years of evolution, the brain is a network of unimaginable intricacy: a hundred billion neurons linked by a hundred trillion connections, woven into a convoluted three-dimensional architecture. Humbling, too, is the complexity of what it does. Even the mundane talents we share with other primates — walking, grasping, recognizing — are solutions to engineering problems at or beyond the cutting edge of artificial intelligence. The talents that are human birthrights — speaking and understanding, using common sense, teaching children, inferring other people's motives — will probably not be duplicated by machines in our lifetime, if ever. All this should serve as a counterweight to the image of the mind as formless raw material and to people as insignificant atoms making up the complex being we call “society.”

The human brain equips us to thrive in a world of objects, living things, and other people. Those entities have a large impact on our well-being, and one would expect the brain to be well suited to detecting them and their powers. Failing to recognize a steep precipice or a hungry panther or a jealous spouse can have significant negative consequences for biological fitness, to put it mildly. The fantastic complexity of the brain is there in part to register consequential facts about the world around us.  {198} 

But this truism has been rejected by many sectors of modern intellectual life. According to the relativistic wisdom prevailing in much of academia today, reality is socially constructed by the use of language, stereotypes, and media images. The idea that people have access to facts about the world is naïve, say the proponents of social constructionism, science studies, cultural studies, critical theory, postmodernism, and deconstructionism. In their view, observations are always infected by theories, and theories are saturated with ideology and political doctrines, so anyone who claims to have the facts or know the truth is just trying to exert power over everyone else.

Relativism is entwined with the doctrine of the Blank Slate in two ways. One is that relativists have a penny-pinching theory of psychology in which the mind has no mechanisms designed to grasp reality; all it can do is passively download words, images, and stereotypes from the surrounding culture. The other is the relativists’ attitude toward science. Most scientists regard their work as an extension of our everyday ability to figure out what is out there and how things work. Telescopes and microscopes amplify the visual system; theories formalize our hunches about cause and effect; experiments refine our drive to gather evidence about events we cannot witness directly. Relativist movements agree that science is perception and cognition writ large, but they draw the opposite conclusion: that scientists, like laypeople, are unequipped to grasp an objective reality. Instead, their advocates say, “Western science is only one way of describing reality, nature, and the way things work — a very effective way, certainly, for the production of goods and profits, but unsatisfactory in most other respects. It is an imperialist arrogance which ignores the sciences and insights of most other cultures and times.”¹ Nowhere is this more significant than in the scientific study of politically charged topics such as race, gender, violence, and social organization. Appealing to “facts” or “the truth” in connection with these topics is just a ruse, the relativists say, because there is no “truth” in the sense of an objective yardstick independent of cultural and political presuppositions.

Skepticism about the soundness of people's mental faculties also determines whether one should respect ordinary people's tastes and opinions (even those we don't much like) or treat the people as dupes of an insidious commercial culture. According to relativist doctrines like “false consciousness,” “inauthentic preferences,” and “interiorized authority,” people may be mistaken about their own desires. If so, it would undermine the assumptions behind democracy, which gives ultimate authority to the preferences of the majority of a population, and the assumptions behind market economies, which treat people as the best judges of how they should allocate their own resources. Perhaps not coincidentally, it elevates the scholars and artists who analyze the use of language and images in society, because only they can unmask the ways in which such media mislead and corrupt.  {199} 

This chapter is about the assumptions about cognition — in particular, concepts, words, and images — that underlie recent relativistic movements in intellectual life. The best way to introduce the argument is with examples from the study of perception, our most immediate connection to the world. They immediately show that the question of whether reality is socially constructed or directly available has not been properly framed. Neither alternative is correct.

Relativists have a point when they say that we don't just open our eyes and apprehend reality, as if perception were a window through which the soul gazes at the world. The idea that we just see things as they are is called naïve realism, and it was refuted by skeptical philosophers thousands of years ago with the help of a simple phenomenon: visual illusions. Our visual systems can play tricks on us, and that is enough to prove they are gadgets, not pipelines to the truth. Here are two of my favorites. In Roger Shepard's “Turning the Tables”² (right), the two parallelograms are identical in size and shape. In Edward Adelson's “Checker Shadow Illusion”³ (below) the light square in the middle of the shadow (B) is the same shade of gray as the dark squares outside the shadow (A):

But just because the world we know is a construct of our brain, that does not mean it is an arbitrary construct — a phantasm created by expectations or the social context. Our perceptual systems are designed to register aspects of the external world that were important to our survival, like the sizes, shapes, and materials of objects. They need a complex design to accomplish this feat because the retinal image is not a replica of the world. The projection of an object on the retina grows, shrinks, and warps as the object moves around; color and brightness fluctuate as the lighting changes from sun to clouds or from indoor to outdoor light. But somehow the brain solves these maddening problems. It works as if it were reasoning backwards from the retinal image to hypotheses about reality, using  {200}  geometry, optics, probability theory, and assumptions about the world. Most of the time the system works: people don't usually bump into trees or bite into rocks.

But occasionally the brain is fooled. The ground stretching away from our feet projects an image from the bottom to the center of our visual field. As a result, the brain often interprets down-up in the visual field as near-far in the world, especially when reinforced by other perspective cues such as occluded parts (like the hidden table legs). Objects stretching away from the viewer get foreshortened by projection, and the brain compensates for this, so we tend to see a given distance running up-and-down in the visual field as coming from a longer object than the same distance running left-to-right. And that makes us see the lengths and widths differently in the turned tables. By similar logic, objects in shadow reflect less light onto our retinas than objects in full illumination. Our brains compensate, making us see a given shade of gray as lighter when it is in shadow than when it is in sunshine. In each case we may see the lines and patches on the page incorrectly, but that is only because our visual systems are working very hard to see them as coming from a real world. Like a policeman framing a suspect, Shepard and Adelson have planted evidence that would lead a rational but unsuspecting observer to an incorrect conclusion. If we were in a world of ordinary 3-D objects that had projected those images onto our retinas, our perceptual experience would be accurate. Adelson explains: “As with many so-called illusions, this effect really demonstrates the success rather than the failure of the visual system. The visual system is not very good at being a physical light meter, but that is not its purpose. The important task is to break the image information down into meaningful components, and thereby perceive the nature of the objects in view.”⁴

It's not that expectations from past experience are irrelevant to perception. But their influence is to make our perceptual systems more accurate, not more arbitrary. In the two words below, we perceive the same shape as an “H” in the first word and as an “A” in the second:⁵

We see the shapes that way because experience tells us — correctly — that the odds are high that there really is an “H” in the middle of the first word and an “A” in the middle of the second, even if that is not true in an atypical case. The mechanisms of perception go to a lot of trouble to ensure that what we see corresponds to what is usually out there.

So the demonstrations that refute naïve realism most decisively also refute the idea that the mind is disconnected from reality. There is a third alternative:  {201}  that the brain evolved fallible yet intelligent mechanisms that work to keep us in touch with aspects of reality that were relevant to the survival and reproduction of our ancestors. And that is true not just of our perceptual faculties but of our cognitive faculties. The fact that our cognitive faculties (like our perceptual faculties) are attuned to the real world is most obvious from their response to illusions: they recognize the possibility of a breach with reality and find a way to get at the truth behind the false impression. When we see an oar that appears to be severed at the water's surface, we know how to tell whether it really is severed or just looks that way: we can palpate the oar, slide a straight object along it, or pull on it to see if the submerged part gets left behind. The concept of truth and reality behind such tests appears to be universal. People in all cultures distinguish truth from falsity and inner mental life from overt reality, and try to deduce the presence of unobservable objects from the perceptible clues they leave behind.⁶

~

Visual perception is the most piquant form of knowledge of the world, but relativists are less concerned with how we see objects than with how we categorize them: how we sort our experiences into conceptual categories like birds, tools, and people. The seemingly innocuous suggestion that the categories of the mind correspond to something in reality became a contentious idea in the twentieth century because some categories — stereotypes of race, gender, ethnicity, and sexual orientation — can be harmful when they are used to discriminate or oppress.

The word stereotype originally referred to a kind of printing plate. Its current sense as a pejorative and inaccurate image standing for a category of people was introduced in 1922 by the journalist Walter Lippmann. Lippmann was an important public intellectual who, among other things, helped to found The New Republic, influenced Woodrow Wilson's policies at the end of World War I, and wrote some of the first attacks on IQ testing. In his book Public Opinion, Lippmann fretted about the difficulty of achieving true democracy in an age in which ordinary people could no longer judge public issues rationally because they got their information in what we today call sound bites. As part of this argument, Lippmann proposed that ordinary people's concepts of social groups were stereotypes: mental pictures that are incomplete, biased, insensitive to variation, and resistant to disconfirming information.

Lippmann had an immediate influence on social science (though the subtleties and qualifications of his original argument were forgotten). Psychologists gave people lists of ethnic groups and lists of traits and asked them to pair them up. Sure enough, people linked Jews with “shrewd” and “mercenary,” Germans with “efficient” and “nationalistic,” Negroes with “superstitious” and “happy-go-lucky,” and so on.⁷ Such generalizations are pernicious when applied to individuals, and though they are still lamentably common in much of  {202}  the world, they are now actively avoided by educated people and by mainstream public figures.

By the 1970s, many thinkers were not content to note that stereotypes about categories of people can be inaccurate. They began to insist that the categories themselves don't exist other than in our stereotypes. An effective way to fight racism, sexism, and other kinds of prejudice, in this view, is to deny that conceptual categories about people have any claim to objective reality. It would be impossible to believe that homosexuals are effeminate, blacks superstitious, and women passive if there were no such things as categories of homosexuals, blacks, or women to begin with. For example, the philosopher Richard Rorty has written,” ‘The homosexual,’ ‘the Negro,’ and ‘the female’ are best seen not as inevitable classifications of human beings but rather as inventions that have done more harm than good.”⁸

For that matter, many writers think, why stop there? Better still to insist that all categories are social constructions and therefore figments, because that would really make invidious stereotypes figments. Rorty notes with approval that many thinkers today “go on to suggest that quarks and genes probably are [inventions] too.” Postmodernists and other relativists attack truth and objectivity not so much because they are interested in philosophical problems of ontology and epistemology but because they feel it is the best way to pull the rug out from under racists, sexists, and homophobes. The philosopher Ian Hacking provides a list of almost forty categories that have recently been claimed to be “socially constructed.” The prime examples are race, gender, masculinity, nature, facts, reality, and the past. But the list has been growing and now includes authorship, AIDS, brotherhood, choice, danger, dementia, illness, Indian forests, inequality, the Landsat satellite system, the medicalized immigrant, the nation-state, quarks, school success, serial homicide, technological systems, white-collar crime, women refugees, and Zulu nationalism. According to Hacking, the common thread is a conviction that the category is not determined by the nature of things and therefore is not inevitable. The further implication is that we would be much better off if it were done away with or radically transformed.⁹

This whole enterprise is based on an unstated theory of human concept formation: that conceptual categories bear no systematic relation to things in the world but are socially constructed (and can therefore be reconstructed). Is it a correct theory? In some cases it has a grain of truth. As we saw in Chapter 4, some categories really are social constructions: they exist only because people tacitly agree to act as if they exist. Examples include money, tenure, citizenship, decorations for bravery, and the presidency of the United States.¹⁰ But that does not mean that all conceptual categories are socially constructed. Concept formation has been studied for decades by cognitive psychologists, and they conclude that most concepts pick out categories of objects in the  {203}  world which had some kind of reality before we ever stopped to think about them.¹¹

Yes, every snowflake is unique, and no category will do complete justice to every one of its members. But intelligence depends on lumping together things that share properties, so that we are not flabbergasted by every new thing we encounter. As William James wrote, “A polyp would be a conceptual thinker if a feeling of ‘Hollo! thingumbob again!’ ever flitted through its mind.” We perceive some traits of a new object, place it in a mental category, and infer that it is likely to have the other traits typical of that category, ones we cannot perceive. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck. If it's a duck, it's likely to swim, fly, have a back off which water rolls, and contain meat that's tasty when wrapped in a pancake with scallions and hoisin sauce.

This kind of inference works because the world really does contain ducks, which really do share properties. If we lived in a world in which walking quacking objects were no more likely to contain meat than did any other object, the category “duck” would be useless and we probably would not have evolved the ability to form it. If you were to construct a giant spreadsheet in which the rows and columns were traits that people notice and the cells were filled in by objects that possess that combination of traits, the pattern of filled cells would be lumpy. You would find lots of entries at the intersection of the “quacks” row and the “waddles” column but none at the “quacks” row and the “gallops” column. Once you specify the rows and columns, the lumpiness comes from the world, not from society or language. It is no coincidence that the same living things tend to be classified together by the words in European cultures, the words for plant and animal kinds in other cultures (including preliterate cultures), and the Linnaean taxa of professional biologists equipped with calipers, dissecting tools, and DNA sequencers. Ducks, biologists say, are several dozen species in the subfamily Anatinae, each with a distinct anatomy, an ability to interbreed with other members of their species, and a common ancestor in evolutionary history.

Most cognitive psychologists believe that conceptual categories come from two mental processes.¹² One of them notices clumps of entries in the mental spreadsheet and treats them as categories with fuzzy boundaries, prototypical members, and overlapping similarities, like the members of a family. That's why our mental category “duck” can embrace odd ducks that don't match the prototypical duck, such as lame ducks, who cannot swim or fly, Muscovy ducks, which have claws and spurs on their feet, and Donald Duck, who talks and wears clothing. The other mental process looks for crisp rules and definitions and enters them into chains of reasoning. The second system can learn that true ducks molt twice a season and have overlapping scales on their legs and hence that certain birds that look like geese and are called geese really are ducks. Even when people don't know these facts from academic  {204}  biology, they have a strong intuition that species are defined by an internal essence or hidden trait that lawfully gives rise to its visible features.¹³

Anyone who teaches the psychology of categorization has been hit with this question from a puzzled student: “You're telling us that putting things into categories is rational and makes us smart. But we've always been taught that putting people into categories is irrational and makes us sexist and racist. If categorization is so great when we think about ducks and chairs, why is it so terrible when we think about genders and ethnic groups?” As with many ingenuous questions from students, this one uncovers a shortcoming in the literature, not a flaw in their understanding.

The idea that stereotypes are inherently irrational owes more to a condescension toward ordinary people than it does to good psychological research. Many researchers, having shown that stereotypes existed in the minds of their subjects, assumed that the stereotypes had to be irrational, because they were uncomfortable with the possibility that some trait might be statistically true of some group. They never actually checked. That began to change in the 1980s, and now a fair amount is known about the accuracy of stereotypes.¹⁴

With some important exceptions, stereotypes are in fact not inaccurate when assessed against objective benchmarks such as census figures or the reports of the stereotyped people themselves. People who believe that African Americans are more likely to be on welfare than whites, that Jews have higher average incomes than WASPs, that business students are more conservative than students in the arts, that women are more likely than men to want to lose weight, and that men are more likely than women to swat a fly with their bare hands, are not being irrational or bigoted. Those beliefs are correct. People's stereotypes are generally consistent with the statistics, and in many cases their bias is to underestimate the real differences between sexes or ethnic groups.¹⁵ This does not mean that the stereotyped traits are unchangeable, of course, or that people think they are unchangeable, only that people perceive the traits fairly accurately at the time.

Moreover, even when people believe that ethnic groups have characteristic traits, they are never mindless stereotypers who literally believe that each and every member of the group possesses those traits. People may think that Germans are, on average, more efficient than non-Germans, but no one believes that every last German is more efficient than every non-German.¹⁶ And people have no trouble overriding a stereotype when they have good information about an individual. Contrary to a common accusation, teachers’ impressions of their individual pupils are not contaminated by their stereotypes of race, gender, or socioeconomic status. The teachers’ impressions accurately reflect the pupil's performance as measured by objective tests.¹⁷

Now for the important exceptions. Stereotypes can be downright inaccurate when a person has few or no firsthand encounters with the stereotyped  {205}  group, or belongs to a group that is overtly hostile to the one being judged. During World War II, when the Russians were allies of the United States and the Germans were enemies, Americans judged Russians to have more positive traits than Germans. Soon afterward, when the alliances reversed, Americans judged Germans to have more positive traits than Russians.¹⁸

Also, people's ability to set aside stereotypes when judging an individual is accomplished by their conscious, deliberate reasoning. When people are distracted or put under pressure to respond quickly, they are more likely to judge that a member of an ethnic group has all the stereotyped traits of the group.¹⁹ This comes from the two-part design of the human categorization system mentioned earlier. Our network of fuzzy associations naturally reverts to a stereotype when we first encounter an individual. But our rule-based categorizer can block out those associations and make deductions based on the relevant facts about that individual. It can do so either for practical reasons, when information about a group-wide average is less diagnostic than information about the individual, or for social and moral reasons, out of respect for the imperative that one ought to ignore certain group-wide averages when judging an individual.

The upshot of this research is not that stereotypes are always accurate but that they are not always false, or even usually false. This is just what we would expect if human categorization — like the rest of the mind — is an adaptation that keeps track of aspects of the world that are relevant to our long-term well-being. As the social psychologist Roger Brown pointed out, the main difference between categories of people and categories of other things is that when you use a prototypical exemplar to stand for a category of things, no one takes offense. When Webster's dictionary used a sparrow to stand for all birds, “emus and ostriches and penguins and eagles did not go on the attack.” But just imagine what would have happened if Webster's had used a picture of a soccer mom to illustrate woman and a picture of a business executive to illustrate man. Brown remarks, “Of course, people would be right to take offense since a prototype can never represent the variation that exists in natural categories. It's just that birds don't care but people do.”²⁰

What are the implications of the fact that many stereotypes are statistically accurate? One is that contemporary scientific research on sex differences cannot be dismissed just because some of the findings are consistent with traditional stereotypes of men and women. Some parts of those stereotypes may be false, but the mere fact that they are stereotypes does not prove that they are false in every respect.

The partial accuracy of many stereotypes does not, of course, mean that racism, sexism, and ethnic prejudice are acceptable. Quite apart from the democratic principle that in the public sphere people should be treated as individuals, there are good reasons to be concerned about stereotypes.  {206}  Stereotypes based on hostile depictions rather than on firsthand experience are bound to be inaccurate. And some stereotypes are accurate only because of self-fulfilling prophecies. Forty years ago it may have been factually correct that few women and African Americans were qualified to be chief executives or presidential candidates. But that was only because of barriers that prevented them from attaining those qualifications, such as university policies that refused them admission out of a belief that they were not qualified. The institutional barriers had to be dismantled before the facts could change. The good news is that when the facts do change, people's stereotypes can change with them.

What about policies that go farther and actively compensate for prejudicial stereotypes, such as quotas and preferences that favor underrepresented groups? Some defenders of these policies assume that gatekeepers are incurably afflicted with baseless prejudices, and that quotas must be kept in place forever to neutralize their effects. The research on stereotype accuracy refutes that argument. Nonetheless, the research might support a different argument for preferences and other gender- and color-sensitive policies. Stereotypes, even when they are accurate, might be self-fulfilling, and not just in the obvious case of institutionalized barriers like those that kept women and African Americans out of universities and professions. Many people have heard of the Pygmalion effect, in which people perform as other people (such as teachers) expect them to perform. As it happens, the Pygmalion effect appears to be small or nonexistent, but there are more subtle forms of self-fulfilling prophecies.²¹ If subjective decisions about people, such as admissions, hiring, credit, and salaries, are based in part on group-wide averages, they will conspire to make the rich richer and the poor poorer. Women are marginalized in academia, making them genuinely less influential, which increases their marginalization. African Americans are treated as poorer credit risks and denied credit, which makes them less likely to succeed, which makes them poorer credit risks. Race- and gender-sensitive policies, according to arguments by the psychologist Virginia Valian, the economist Glenn Loury, and the philosopher James Flynn, may be needed to break the vicious cycle.²²

Pushing in the other direction is the finding that stereotypes are least accurate when they pertain to a coalition that is pitted against one's own in hostile competition. This should make us nervous about identity politics, in which public institutions identify their members in terms of their race, gender, and ethnic group and weigh every policy by how it favors one group over another. In many universities, for example, minority students are earmarked for special orientation sessions and encouraged to view their entire academic experience through the lens of their group and how it has been victimized. By implicitly pitting one group against another, such policies may cause each group to brew stereotypes about the other that are more pejorative than the  {207}  ones they would develop in personal encounters. As with other policy issues I examine in this book, the data from the lab do not offer a thumbs-up or thumbs-down verdict on race- and gender-conscious policies. But by highlighting the features of our psychology that different policies engage, the findings can make the tradeoffs clearer and the debates better informed.

~

Of all the faculties that go into the piece of work called man, language may be the most awe-inspiring. “Remember that you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech,” Henry Higgins implored Eliza Doolittle. Galileo's alter ego, humbled by the arts and inventions of his day, commented on language in its written form:

But surpassing all stupendous inventions, what sublimity of mind was his who dreamed of finding means to communicate his deepest thoughts to any other person, though distant by mighty intervals of place and time! Of talking with those who are in India; of speaking to those who are not yet born and will not be born for a thousand or ten thousand years; and with what facility, by the different arrangements of twenty characters upon a page!²³

But a funny thing happened to language in intellectual life. Rather than being appreciated for its ability to communicate thought, it was condemned for its power to constrain thought. Famous quotations from two philosophers capture the anxiety. “We have to cease to think if we refuse to do it in the prisonhouse of language,” wrote Friedrich Nietzsche. “The limits of my language mean the limits of my world,” wrote Ludwig Wittgenstein.

How could language exert this stranglehold? It would if words and phrases were the medium of thought itself, an idea that falls naturally out of the Blank Slate. If there is nothing in the intellect that was not first in the senses, then words picked up by the ears are the obvious source of any abstract thought that cannot be reduced to sights, smells, or other sounds. Watson tried to explain thinking as microscopic movements of the mouth and throat; Skinner hoped his 1957 book Verbal Behavior, which explained language as a repertoire of rewarded responses, would bridge the gap between pigeons and people.

The other social sciences also tended to equate language with thought. Boas's student Edward Sapir called attention to differences in how languages carve up the world into categories, and Sapir's student Benjamin Whorf stretched those observations into the famous Linguistic Determinism hypothesis: “We cut nature up, organize it into concepts, and ascribe significances as we do, largely because we are parties to an agreement to organize it in this way — an agreement that holds throughout our speech community and is codified in the patterns of our language. The agreement is, of course, an implicit  {208}  and unstated one, but its terms are absolutely obligatory!”²⁴ More recently, the anthropologist Clifford Geertz wrote that “thinking consists not of ‘happenings in the head’ (though happenings there and elsewhere are necessary for it to occur) but of a traffic in what have been called ... significant symbols — words for the most part.”²⁵

As with so many ideas in social science, the centrality of language is taken to extremes in deconstructionism, postmodernism, and other relativist doctrines. The writings of oracles like Jacques Derrida are studded with such aphorisms as “No escape from language is possible,” “Text is self-referential,” “Language is power,” and “There is nothing outside the text.” Similarly, J. Hillis Miller wrote that “language is not an instrument or tool in man's hands, a submissive means of thinking. Language rather thinks man and his ‘world'... if he will allow it to do so.”²⁶ The prize for the most extreme statement must go to Roland Barthes, who declared, “Man does not exist prior to language, either as a species or as an individual.”²⁷

The ancestry of these ideas is said to be from linguistics, though most linguists believe that deconstructionists have gone off the deep end. The original observation was that many words are defined in part by their relationship to other words. For example, he is defined by its contrast with I, you, they, and she, and big mates sense only as the opposite of little. And if you look up words in a dictionary, they are defined by other words, which are defined by still other words, until the circle is completed when you get back to a definition containing the original word. Therefore, say the deconstructionists, language is a self-contained system in which words have no necessary connection to reality. And since language is an arbitrary instrument, not a medium for communicating thoughts or describing reality, the powerful can use it to manipulate and oppress others. This leads in turn to an agitation for linguistic reforms: neologisms like co or na that would serve as gender-neutral pronouns, a succession of new terms for racial minorities, and a rejection of standards of clarity in criticism and scholarship (for if language is no longer a window onto thought but the very stuff of thought, the metaphor of “clarity” no longer applies).

Like all conspiracy theories, the idea that language is a prisonhouse denigrates its subject by overestimating its power. Language is the magnificent faculty that we use to get thoughts from one head to another, and we can co-opt it in many ways to help our thoughts along. But it is not the same as thought, not the only thing that separates humans from other animals, not the basis of all culture, and not an inescapable prisonhouse, an obligatory agreement, the limits of our world, or the determiner of what is imaginable.²⁸

We have seen that perception and categorization provide us with concepts that keep, us in touch with the world. Language extends that lifeline by connecting the concepts to words. Children hear noises coming out of a family member's mouth, use their intuitive psychology and their grasp of the context  {209}  to infer what the speaker is trying to say, and mentally link the words to the concepts and the grammatical rules to the relationships among them. Bowser upends a chair, Sister yells, “The dog knocked over the chair!” and Junior deduces that dog means dog, chair means chair, and the subject of the verb knock over is the agent doing the knocking over.²⁹ Now Junior can talk about other dogs, other chairs, and other knockings over. There is nothing self-referential or imprisoning about it. As the novelist Walker Percy quipped, a deconstructionist is an academic who claims that texts have no referents and then leaves a message on his wife's answering machine asking her to order a pepperoni pizza for dinner.

Language surely does affect our thoughts, rather than just labeling them for the sake of labeling them. Most obviously, language is the conduit through which people share their thoughts and intentions and thereby acquire the knowledge, customs, and values of those around them. In the song “Christmas” from their rock opera, The Who described the plight of a boy without language: “Tommy doesn't know what day it is; he doesn't know who Jesus was or what prayin’ is.”

Language can allow us to share thoughts not just directly, by its literal content, but also indirectly, via metaphors and metonyms that nudge listeners into grasping connections they may not have noticed before. For example, many expressions treat time as if it were a valuable resource, such as waste time, spend time, valuable time, and time is money.³⁰ Presumably on the first occasion a person used one of these expressions, her audience wondered why she was using a word for money to refer to time; after all, you can't literally spend time the way you spend pieces of gold. Then, by assuming that the speaker was not gibbering, they figured out the ways in which time indeed has something in common with money, and assumed that that was what the speaker intended to convey. Note that even in this clear example of language affecting thought, language is not the same thing as thought. The original coiner of the metaphor had to see the analogy without the benefit of the English expressions, and the first listeners had to make sense of it using a chain of ineffable thoughts about the typical intentions of speakers and the properties shared by time and money.

Aside from its use as a medium of communication, language can be pressed into service as one of the media used by the brain for storing and manipulating information.³¹ The leading theory of human working memory, from the psychologist Alan Baddeley, captures the idea nicely.³² The mind makes use of a “phonological loop”: a silent articulation of words or numbers that persists for a few seconds and can be sensed by the mind's ear. The loop acts as a “slave system” at the service of a “central executive.” By describing things to ourselves using snatches of language, we can temporarily store the result of a mental computation or retrieve chunks of data stored as verbal expressions. Mental arithmetic involving large numbers, for example, may be  {210}  carried out by retrieving verbal formulas such as “Seven times eight is fifty-six.”³³ But as the technical terms of the theory make clear, language is serving as a slave of an executive, not as the medium of all thought.

Why do virtually all cognitive scientists and linguists believe that language is not a prisonhouse of thought?³⁴ First, many experiments have plumbed the minds of creatures without language, such as infants and nonhuman primates, and have found the fundamental categories of thought working away: objects, space, cause and effect, number, probability, agency (the initiation of behavior by a person or animal), and the functions of tools.³⁵

Second, our vast storehouse of knowledge is certainly not couched in the words and sentences in which we learned the individual facts. What did you read in the page before this one? I would like to think that you can give a reasonably accurate answer to the question. Now try to write down the exact words you read in those pages. Chances are you cannot recall a single sentence verbatim, probably not even a single phrase. What you remembered is the gist of those passages — their content, meaning, or sense — not the language itself. Many experiments on human memory have confirmed that what we remember over the long term is the content, not the wording, of stories and conversations. Cognitive scientists model this “semantic memory” as a web of logical propositions, images, motor programs, strings of sounds, and other data structures connected to one another in the brain.³⁶

A third way to put language in its place is to think about how we use it. Writing and speaking do not consist of transcribing an interior monologue onto paper or playing it into a microphone. Rather, we engage in a constant give-and-take between the thoughts we try to convey and the means our language offers to convey them. We often grope for words, are dissatisfied with what we write because it does not express what we wanted to say, or discover when every combination of words seems wrong that we do not really know what we want to say. And when we get frustrated by a mismatch between our language and our thoughts, we don't give up, defeated and mum, but change the language. We concoct neologisms (quark, meme, clone, deep structure), invent slang (to spam, to diss, to flame, to surf the web, a spin doctor), borrow useful words from other languages (joie de vivre, schlemiel, angst, machismo), or coin new metaphors (waste time, vote with your feet, push the outside of the envelope). That is why every language, far from being an immutable penitentiary, is constantly under renovation. Despite the lamentations of language lovers and the coercion of tongue troopers, languages change unstoppably as people need to talk about new things or convey new attitudes.³⁷

Finally, language itself could not function if it did not sit atop a vast infrastructure of tacit knowledge about the world and about the intentions of other people. When we understand language, we have to listen between the lines to winnow out the unintended readings of an ambiguous sentence, piece  {211}  together fractured utterances, glide over slips of the tongue, and fill in the countless unsaid steps in a complete train of thought. When the shampoo bottle says “Lather, rinse, repeat,” we don't spend the rest of our lives in the shower; we infer that it means “repeat once.” And we know how to interpret ambiguous headlines such as “Kids Make Nutritious Snacks,” “Prostitutes Appeal to Pope,” and “British Left Waffles on Falkland Islands,” because we effortlessly apply our background knowledge about the kinds of things that people are likely to convey in newspapers. Indeed, the very existence of ambiguous sentences, in which one string of words expresses two thoughts, proves that thoughts are not the same thing as strings of words.

~

Language often makes the news precisely because it can part company with thoughts and attitudes. In 1998 Bill Clinton exploited the expectations behind ordinary comprehension to mislead prosecutors about his affair with Monica Lewinsky. He used words like alone, sex, and is in senses that were technically defensible but which deviated from charitable guesses about what people ordinarily mean by these terms. For example, he suggested he was not “alone” with Lewinsky, even though they were the only two people in the room, because other people were in the Oval Office complex at the time. He said that he did not have “sex” with her, because they did not engage in intercourse. His words, like all words, are certainly vague at their boundaries. Exactly how far away or hidden must the nearest person be before one is considered alone? At what point in the continuum of bodily contact — from an accidental brush in an elevator to tantric bliss — do we say that sex has occurred? Ordinarily we resolve the vagueness by guessing how our conversational partner would interpret words in the context, and we choose our words accordingly. Clinton's ingenuity in manipulating these guesses, and the outrage that erupted when he was forced to explain what he had done, show that people have an acute understanding of the difference between words and the thoughts they are designed to convey.

Language conveys not just literal meanings but also a speaker's attitude. Think of the difference between/at and voluptuous, slender and scrawny, thrifty and stingy, articulate and slick. Racial epithets, which are laced with contempt, are justifiably off-limits among responsible people, because using them conveys the tacit message that contempt for the people referred to by the epithet is acceptable. But the drive to adopt new terms for disadvantaged groups goes much further than this basic sign of respect; it often assumes that words and attitudes are so inseparable that one can reengineer people's attitudes by tinkering with the words. In 1994 the Los Angeles Times adopted a style sheet that banned some 150 words, including birth defect, Canuck, Chinese fire drill, dark continent, divorcee, Dutch treat, handicapped, illegitimate, invalid, man-made, New World, stepchild, and to welsh. The editors assumed that words  {212}  register in the brain with their literal meanings, so that an invalid is understood as “someone who is not valid” and Dutch treat is understood as a slur on contemporary Netherlanders. (In fact, it is one of many idioms in which Dutch means “ersatz,” such as Dutch oven, Dutch door, Dutch uncle, Dutch courage, and Dutch auction, the remnants of a long-forgotten rivalry between the English and the Dutch.)

But even the more reasonable attempts at linguistic reform are based on a dubious theory of linguistic determinism. Many people are puzzled by the replacement of formerly unexceptionable terms by new ones: Negro by black by African American, Spanish-American by Hispanic by Latino, crippled by handicapped by disabled by challenged, slum by ghetto by inner city by (according to the Times) slum once again. Occasionally the neologisms are defended with some rationale about their meaning. In the 1960s, the word Negro was replaced by the word black, because the parallel between the words black and white was meant to underscore the equality of the races. Similarly, Native American reminds us of who was here first and avoids the geographically inaccurate term Indian. But often the new terms replace ones that were perfectly congenial in their day, as we see in names for old institutions that are obviously sympathetic to the people being named: the United Negro College Fund, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the Shriners Hospitals for Crippled Children. And sometimes a term can be tainted or unfashionable while a minor variant is fine: consider colored people versus people of color, Afro-American versus African American, Negro — Spanish for “black” — versus black. If anything, a respect for literal meaning should send us off looking for a new word for the descendants of Europeans, who are neither white nor Caucasian. Something else must be driving the replacement process.

Linguists are familiar with the phenomenon, which may be called the euphemism treadmill. People invent new words for emotionally charged referents, but soon the euphemism becomes tainted by association, and a new word must be found, which soon acquires its own connotations, and so on. Water closet becomes toilet (originally a term for any kind of body care, as in toilet kit and toilet water), which becomes bathroom, which becomes restroom, which becomes lavatory. Undertaker changes to mortician, which changes to funeral director. Garbage collection turns into sanitation, which turns into environmental services. Gym (from gymnasium, originally “high school”) becomes physical education, which becomes (at Berkeley) human biodynamics. Even the word minority — the most neutral label conceivable, referring only to relative numbers — was banned in 2001 by the San Diego City Council (and nearly banned by the Boston City Council) because it was deemed disparaging to non-whites. “No matter how you slice it, minority means less than,” said a semantically challenged official at Boston College, where the preferred term is AHANA (an acronym for African-American, Hispanic, Asian, and Native American).³⁸  {213} 

The euphemism treadmill shows that concepts, not words, are primary in people's minds. Give a concept a new name, and the name becomes colored by the concept; the concept does not become freshened by the name, at least not for long. Names for minorities will continue to change as long as people have negative attitudes toward them. We will know that we have achieved mutual respect when the names stay put.

~

“Image is nothing. Thirst is everything,” screams a soft-drink ad that tries to create a new image for its product by making fun of soft-drink ads that try to create images for their products. Like words, images are salient tokens of our mental lives. And like words, images are said to have an insidious power over our consciousness, presumably because they are inscribed directly onto a blank slate. In postmodernist and relativist thinking, images are held to shape our view of reality, or to be our view of reality, or to be reality itself. This is especially true of images representing celebrities, politicians, women, and AHANAs. And as with language, the scientific study of imagery shows that the fear is misplaced.

A good description of the standard view of images within cultural studies and related disciplines may be found in the Concise Glossary of Cultural Theory. It defines image as a “mental or visual representation of an object or event as depicted in the mind, a painting, a photograph, or film.” Having thus run together images in the world (such as paintings) with images in the mind, the entry lays out the centrality of images in postmodernism, cultural studies, and academic feminism.

First it notes, reasonably enough, that images can misrepresent reality and thereby serve the interests of an ideology. A racist caricature, presumably, is a prime example. But then it takes the concept further:

With what is called the “crisis of representation” brought about by... postmodernism, however, it is often questioned whether an image can be thought to simply represent, or misrepresent, a supposedly prior or external, image-free reality. Reality is seen rather as always subject to, or as the product of, modes of representation. In this view we inescapably inhabit a world of images or representations and not a “real world” and true or false images of it.

In other words, if a tree falls in a forest and there is no artist to paint it, not only did the tree make no sound, but it did not fall, and there was no tree there to begin with.

In a further move ... we are thought to exist in a world of hyperreality, in which images are self-generating and entirely detached from any  {214}  supposed reality. This accords with a common view of contemporary entertainment and politics as being all a matter of “image,” or appearance, rather than of substantial content.

Actually, the doctrine of hyperreality contradicts the common view of contemporary politics and entertainment as being a matter of image and appearance. The whole point of the common view is that there is a reality separate from images, and that is what allows us to decry the images that are misleading. We can, for example, criticize an old movie that shows slaves leading happy lives, or an ad that shows a corrupt politician pretending to defend the environment. If there were no such thing as substantial content, we would have no basis for preferring an accurate documentary about slavery to an apologia for it, or preferring a good expose of a politician to a slick campaign ad.

The entry notes that images are associated with the world of publicity, advertising, and fashion, and thereby with business and profits. An image may thus be tied to “an imposed stereotype or an alternative subjective or cultural identity.” Media images become mental images: people cannot help but think that women or politicians or African Americans conform to the depictions in movies and advertisements. And this elevates cultural studies and postmodernist art into forces for personal and political liberation:

The study of “images of women” or “women's images” sees this field as one in which stereotypes of women can be reinforced, parodied, or actively contested through critical analysis, alternative histories, or creative work in writing and the media committed to the production of positive counter-images.³⁹

I have not hidden my view that this entire line of thinking is a conceptual mess. If we want to understand how politicians or advertisers manipulate us, the last thing we should do is blur distinctions among things in the world, our perception of those things when they are in front of our eyes, the mental images of those things that we construct from memory, and physical images such as photographs and drawings.

As we saw at the beginning of this chapter, the visual brain is an immensely complicated system that was designed by the forces of evolution to give us an accurate reading of the consequential things in front of us. The “intelligent eye,” as perceptual psychologists call it, does not just compute the shapes and motions of people before us. It also guesses their thoughts and intentions by noticing how they gaze at, approach, avoid, help, or hinder other objects and people. And these guesses are then measured against everything else we know about people — what we infer from gossip, from a person's words and deeds, and from Sherlock Holmes-style deductions. The result is  {215}  the knowledge base or semantic memory that also underlies our use of language.

Physical images such as photographs and paintings are devices that reflect light in patterns similar to those coming off real objects, thereby making the visual system respond as if it were really seeing those objects. Though people have long dreamed of illusions that completely fool the brain — Descartes's evil demon, the philosopher's thought experiment in which a person does not realize he is a brain in a vat, the science-fiction writer's prophecy of perfect virtual reality like in The Matrix — in actuality the illusions foisted upon us by physical images are never more than partially effective. Our perceptual systems pick up on the imperfections of an image — the brush strokes, pixels, or frame — and our conceptual systems pick up on the fact that we are entertaining a hypothetical world that is separate from the real world. It's not that people invariably distinguish fiction from reality: they can lose themselves in fiction, or misremember something they read in a novel as something they read in the newspapers or that happened to a friend, or mistakenly believe that a stylized portrayal of a time and place is an accurate portrayal. But all of us are capable of distinguishing fictitious worlds from real ones, as we see when a two-year-old pretends that a banana is a telephone for the fun of it but at the same time understands that a banana is not literally a telephone.⁴⁰ Cognitive scientists believe that the ability to entertain propositions without necessarily believing them — to distinguish “John believes there is a Santa Claus” from “There is a Santa Claus” — is a fundamental ability of human cognition.⁴¹ Many believe that a breakdown of this ability underlies the thought disorder in the syndrome called schizophrenia.⁴²

Finally, there are mental images, the visualizations of objects and scenes in the mind's eye. The psychologist Stephen Kosslyn has shown that the brain is equipped with a system capable of reactivating and manipulating memories of perceptual experience, a bit like Photoshop with its tools for assembling, rotating, and coloring images.⁴³ Like language, imagery may be used as a slave system — a “visuospatial sketchpad” — by the central executive of the brain, making it a valuable form of mental representation. We use mental imagery, for example, when we visualize how a chair might fit in a living room or whether a sweater would look good on a relative. Imagery is also an invaluable tool to novelists, who imagine scenes before describing them in words, and to scientists, who rotate molecules or play out forces and motions in their imagination.

Though mental images allow our experiences (including our experience of media images) to affect our thoughts and attitudes long after the original objects have gone, it is a mistake to think that raw images are downloaded into our minds and then constitute our mental lives. Images are not stored in the mind like snapshots in a shoebox; if they were, how could you ever find the one you want? Rather, they are labeled and linked to a vast database of  {216}  knowledge, which allows them to be evaluated and interpreted in terms of what they stand for.⁴⁴ Chess masters, for example, are famous for their ability to remember games in progress, but their mental images of the board are not raw photographs. Rather, they are saturated with abstract information about the game, such as which piece is threatening which other one and which clusters of pieces form viable defenses. We know this because when a chessboard is sprinkled with pieces at random, chess masters are no better at remembering the arrangement than amateurs are.⁴⁵ When images represent real people, not just chessmen, there are even more possibilities for organizing and annotating them with information about people's goals and motives — for example, whether the person in an image is sincere or just acting.

The reason that images cannot constitute the contents of our thoughts is that images, like words, are inherently ambiguous. An image of Lassie could stand for Lassie, collies, dogs, animals, television stars, or family values. Some other, more abstract form of information must pick out the concept that an image is taken to exemplify. Or consider the sentence Yesterday my uncle fired his lawyer (an example suggested by Dan Dennett). When understanding the sentence, Brad might visualize his own ordeals of the day before and glimpse the “uncle” slot in a family tree, then picture courthouse steps and an angry man. Irene might have no image for “yesterday” but might visualize her uncle Bob's face, a slamming door, and a power-suited woman. Yet despite these very different image sequences, both people have understood the sentence in the same way, as we could see by questioning them or asking them to paraphrase the sentence. “Imagery couldn't be the key to comprehension,” Dennett points out, “because you can't draw a picture of an uncle, or of yesterday, or firing, or a lawyer. Uncles, unlike clowns and firemen, don't look different in any characteristic way that can be visually represented, and yesterdays don't look like anything at all.”⁴⁶

Since images are interpreted in the context of a deeper understanding of people and their relationships, the “crisis of representation,” with its paranoia about the manipulation of our mind by media images, is overblown. People are not helplessly programmed with images; they can evaluate and interpret what they see using everything else they know, such as the credibility and motives of the source.

The postmodernist equating of images with thoughts has not only made a hash of several scholarly disciplines but has laid waste to the world of contemporary art. If images are the disease, the reasoning goes, then art is the cure. Artists can neutralize the power of media images by distorting them or reproducing them in odd contexts (like the ad parodies in Mad magazine or on Saturday Night Live, only not funny). Anyone familiar with contemporary art has seen the countless works in which stereotypes of women, minorities, or gay  {217}  people are “reinforced, parodied, or actively contested.” A prototypical example is a 1994 exhibit at the Whitney Museum in New York called “Black Male: Representations of Masculinity in Contemporary Art.” It aimed to take apart the way that African American men are culturally constructed in demonizing and marginalizing visual stereotypes such as the sex symbol, the athlete, the Sambo, and the photograph in a Wanted poster. According to the catalogue essay, “The real struggle is over the power to control images.” The art critic Adam Gopnik (whose mother and sister are cognitive scientists) called attention to the simplistic theory of cognition behind this tedious formula:

The show is intended to be socially therapeutic: its aim is to make you face the socially constructed images of black men, so that by confronting them — or, rather, seeing artists confront them on your behalf — you can make them go away. The trouble is that the entire enterprise of “disassembling social images” rests on an ambiguity in the way we use the word “image.” Mental images are not really images at all, but instead consist of complicated opinions, positions, doubts, and passionately held convictions, rooted in experience and amendable by argument, by more experience, or by coercion. Our mental images of black men, white judges, the press, and so on do not take the form of pictures of the kind that you can hang up (or “deconstruct”) on a museum wall.... Hitler did not hate Jews because there were pictures of swarthy Semites with big noses imprinted on his cerebellum; racism does not exist in America because the picture of O. J. Simpson on the cover of Time is too dark. The view that visual cliches shape beliefs is both too pessimistic, in that it supposes that people are helplessly imprisoned by received stereotypes, and too optimistic, in that it supposes that if you could change the images you could change the beliefs.⁴⁷

Recognizing that we are equipped with sophisticated faculties that keep us in touch with reality does not entail ignoring the ways in which our faculties can be turned against us. People lie, sometimes baldly, sometimes through insinuation and presupposition (as in the question “When did you stop beating your wife?”). People disseminate disinformation about ethnic groups, not just pejorative stereotypes but tales of exploitation and perfidy that serve to stoke moralistic outrage against them. People try to manipulate social realities like status (which exist in the mind of the beholder) to make themselves look good or to sell products.

But we can best protect ourselves against such manipulation by pinpointing the vulnerabilities of our faculties of categorization, language, and imagery, not by denying their complexity. The view that humans are passive  {218}  receptacles of stereotypes, words, and images is condescending to ordinary people and gives unearned importance to the pretensions of cultural and academic elites. And exotic pronouncements about the limitations of our faculties, such as that there is nothing outside the text or that we inhabit a world of images rather than a real world, make it impossible even to identify lies and misrepresentations, let alone to understand how they are promulgated.

Chapter 13

Out of Our Depths

Most people are familiar with the idea that some of our ordeals come from a mismatch between the source of our passions in evolutionary history and the goals we set for ourselves today. People gorge themselves in anticipation of a famine that never comes, engage in dangerous liaisons that conceive babies they don't want, and rev up their bodies in response to stressors from which they cannot run away.

What is true for the emotions may also be true for the intellect. Some of our perplexities may come from a mismatch between the purposes for which our cognitive faculties evolved and the purposes to which we put them today. This is obvious enough when it comes to raw data processing. People do not try to multiply six-digit numbers in their heads or remember the phone number of everyone they meet, because they know their minds were not designed for the job. But it is not as obvious when it comes to the way we conceptualize the world. Our minds keep us in touch with aspects of reality — such as objects, animals, and people — that our ancestors dealt with for millions of years. But as science and technology open up new and hidden worlds, our untutored intuitions may find themselves at sea.

What are these intuitions? Many cognitive scientists believe that human reasoning is not accomplished by a single, general-purpose computer in the head. The world is a heterogeneous place, and we are equipped with different kinds of intuitions and logics, each appropriate to one department of reality. These ways of knowing have been called systems, modules, stances, faculties, mental organs, multiple intelligences, and reasoning engines.¹ They emerge early in life, are present in every normal person, and appear to be computed in partly distinct sets of networks in the brain. They may be installed by different  {220}  combinations of genes, or they may emerge when brain tissue self-organizes in response to different problems to be solved and different patterns in the sensory input. Most likely they develop by some combination of these forces.

What makes our reasoning faculties different from the departments in a university is that they are not just broad areas of knowledge, analyzed with whatever tools work best. Each faculty is based on a core intuition that was suitable for analyzing the world in which we evolved. Though cognitive scientists have not agreed on a Gray's Anatomy of the mind, here is a tentative but defensible list of cognitive faculties and the core intuitions on which they are based:

• An intuitive physics, which we use to keep track of how objects fall, bounce, and bend. Its core intuition is the concept of the object, which occupies one place, exists for a continuous span of time, and follows laws of motion and force. These are not Newton's laws but something closer to the medieval conception of impetus, an “oomph” that keeps an object in motion and gradually dissipates.²

• An intuitive version of biology or natural history, which we use to understand the living world. Its core intuition is that living things house a hidden essence that gives them their form and powers and drives their growth and bodily functions.³

• An intuitive engineering, which we use to make and understand tools and other artifacts. Its core intuition is that a tool is an object with a purpose — an object designed by a person to achieve a goal.⁴

• An intuitive psychology, which we use to understand other people. Its core intuition is that other people are not objects or machines but are animated by the invisible entity we call the mind or the soul. Minds contain beliefs and desires and are the immediate cause of behavior.

• A spatial sense, which we use to navigate the world and keep track of where things are. It is based on a dead reckoner, which updates coordinates of the body's location as it moves and turns, and a network of mental maps. Each map is organized by a different reference frame: the eyes, the head, the body, or salient objects and places in the world.⁵

• A number sense, which we use to think about quantities and amounts. It is based on an ability to register exact quantities for small numbers of objects (one, two, and three) and to make rough relative estimates for larger numbers.⁶

• A sense of probability, which we use to reason about the likelihood of uncertain events. It is based on the ability to track the relative frequencies of events, that is, the proportion of events of some kind that turn out one way or the other.⁷  {221} 

• An intuitive economics, which we use to exchange goods and favors. It is based on the concept of reciprocal exchange, in which one party confers a benefit on another and is entitled to an equivalent benefit in return.

• A mental database and logic, which we use to represent ideas and to infer new ideas from old ones. It is based on assertions about what's what, what's where, or who did what to whom, when, where, and why. The assertions are linked in a mind-wide web and can be recombined with logical and causal operators such as and, or, not, all, some, necessary, possible, and cause.⁸

• Language, which we use to share the ideas from our mental logic. It is based on a mental dictionary of memorized words and a mental grammar of combinatorial rules. The rules organize vowels and consonants into words, words into bigger words and phrases, and phrases into sentences, in such a way that the meaning of the combination can be computed from the meanings of the parts and the way they are arranged.⁹

The mind also has components for which it is hard to tell where cognition leaves off and emotion begins. These include a system for assessing danger, coupled with the emotion called fear, a system for assessing contamination, coupled with the emotion called disgust, and a moral sense, which is complex enough to deserve a chapter of its own.

These ways of knowing and core intuitions are suitable for the lifestyle of small groups of illiterate, stateless people who live off the land, survive by their wits, and depend on what they can carry. Our ancestors left this lifestyle for a settled existence only a few millennia ago, too recently for evolution to have done much, if anything, to our brains. Conspicuous by their absence are faculties suited to the stunning new understanding of the world wrought by science and technology. For many domains of knowledge, the mind could not have evolved dedicated machinery, the brain and genome show no hints of specialization, and people show no spontaneous intuitive understanding either in the crib or afterward. They include modern physics, cosmology, genetics, evolution, neuroscience, embryology, economics, and mathematics.

It's not just that we have to go to school or read books to learn these subjects. It's that we have no mental tools to grasp them intuitively. We depend on analogies that press an old mental faculty into service, or on jerry-built mental contraptions that wire together bits and pieces of other faculties. Understanding in these domains is likely to be uneven, shallow, and contaminated by primitive intuitions. And that can shape debates in the border disputes in which science and technology make contact with everyday life. The point of this chapter is that together with all the moral, empirical, and political factors that go into these debates, we should add the cognitive factors: the way our  {222}  minds naturally frame issues. Our own cognitive makeup is a missing piece of many puzzles, including education, bioethics, food safety, economics, and human understanding itself.

~

The most obvious arena in which we confront native ways of thinking is the schoolhouse. Any theory of education must be based on a theory of human nature, and in the twentieth century that theory was often the Blank Slate or the Noble Savage.

Traditional education is based in large part on the Blank Slate: children come to school empty and have knowledge deposited in them, to be reproduced later on tests. (Critics of traditional education call this the “savings and loan” model.) The Blank Slate also underlies the common philosophy that the early school-age years are an opportunity zone in which social values are shaped for life. Many schools today use the early grades to instill desirable attitudes toward the environment, gender, sexuality, and ethnic diversity.

Progressive educational practice, for its part, is based on the Noble Savage. As A. S. Neill wrote in his influential book Summerhill, “A child is innately wise and realistic. If left to himself without adult suggestion of any kind, he will develop as far as he is capable of developing.”¹⁰ Neill and other progressive theorists of the 1960s and 1970s argued that schools should do away with examinations, grades, curricula, and even books. Though few schools went that far, the movement left a mark on educational practice. In the method of reading instruction known as Whole Language, children are not taught which letter goes with which sound but are immersed in a book-rich environment where reading skills are expected to blossom spontaneously.¹¹ In the philosophy of mathematics instruction known as constructivism, children are not drilled with arithmetic tables but are enjoined to rediscover mathematical truths themselves by solving problems in groups.¹² Both methods fare badly when students’ learning is assessed objectively, but advocates of the methods tend to disdain standardized testing.

An understanding of the mind as a complex system shaped by evolution runs against these philosophies. The alternative has emerged from the work of cognitive scientists such as Susan Carey, Howard Gardner, and David Geary.¹³ Education is neither writing on a blank slate nor allowing the child's nobility to come into flower. Rather, education is a technology that tries to make up for what the human mind is innately bad at. Children don't have to go to school to learn to walk, talk, recognize objects, or remember the personalities of their friends, even though these tasks are much harder than reading, adding, or remembering dates in history. They do have to go to school to learn written language, arithmetic, and science, because those bodies of knowledge and skill were invented too recently for any species-wide knack for them to have evolved.  {223} 

Far from being empty receptacles or universal learners, then, children are equipped with a toolbox of implements for reasoning and learning in particular ways, and those implements must be cleverly recruited to master problems for which they were not designed. That requires not just inserting new facts and skills in children's minds but debugging and disabling old ones. Students cannot learn Newtonian physics until they unlearn their intuitive impetus-based physics.¹⁴ They cannot learn modern biology until they unlearn their intuitive biology, which thinks in terms of vital essences. And they cannot learn evolution until they unlearn their intuitive engineering, which attributes design to the intentions of a designer.¹⁵

Schooling also requires pupils to expose and reinforce skills that are ordinarily buried in unconscious black boxes. When children learn to read, the vowels and consonants that are seamlessly woven together in speech must be forced into children's awareness before they can associate them with squiggles on a page.¹⁶ Effective education may also require co-opting old faculties to deal with new demands. Snatches of language can be pressed into service to do calculation, as when we recall the stanza “Five times five is twenty-five.”¹⁷ The logic of grammar can be used to grasp large numbers: the expression four thousand three hundred and fifty-seven has the grammatical structure of an English noun phrase like hat, coat, and mittens. When a student parses the number phrase she can call to mind the mental operation of aggregation, which is related to the mathematical operation of addition.¹⁸ Spatial cognition is drafted into understanding mathematical relationships through the use of graphs, which turn data or equations into shapes.¹⁹ Intuitive engineering supports the learning of anatomy and physiology (organs are understood as gadgets with functions), and intuitive physics supports the learning of chemistry and biology (stuff, including living stuff, is made out of tiny, bouncy, sticky objects).²⁰

Geary points out a final implication. Because much of the content of education is not cognitively natural, the process of mastering it may not always be easy and pleasant, notwithstanding the mantra that learning is fun. Children may be innately motivated to make friends, acquire status, hone motor skills, and explore the physical world, but they are not necessarily motivated to adapt their cognitive faculties to unnatural tasks like formal mathematics. A family, peer group, and culture that ascribe high status to school achievement may be needed to give a child the motive to persevere toward effortful feats of learning whose rewards are apparent only over the long term.²¹

~

The layperson's intuitive psychology or “theory of mind” is one of the brain's most striking abilities. We do not treat other people as wind-up dolls but think of them as being animated by minds: nonphysical entities we cannot see or touch but that are as real to us as bodies and objects. Aside from  {224}  allowing us to predict people's behavior from their beliefs and desires, our theory of mind is tied to our ability to empathize and to our conception of life and death. The difference between a dead body and a living one is that a dead body no longer contains the vital force we call a mind. Our theory of mind is the source of the concept of the soul. The ghost in the machine is deeply rooted in our way of thinking about people.

A belief in the soul, in turn, meshes with our moral convictions. The core of morality is the recognition that others have interests as we do — that they “feel want, taste grief, need friends,” as Shakespeare put it — and therefore that they have a right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of their interests. But who are those “others”? We need a boundary that allows us to be callous to rocks and plants but forces us to treat other humans as “persons” that possess inalienable rights. Otherwise, it seems, we would place ourselves on a slippery slope that ends in the disposal of inconvenient people or in grotesque deliberations on the value of individual lives. As Pope John Paul II pointed out, the notion that every human carries infinite value by virtue of possessing a soul would seem to give us that boundary.

Until recently the intuitive concept of the soul served us pretty well. Living people had souls, which come into existence at the moment of conception and leave their bodies when they die. Animals, plants, and inanimate objects do not have souls at all. But science is showing that what we call the soul — the locus of sentience, reason, and will — consists of the information-processing activity of the brain, an organ governed by the laws of biology. In an individual person it comes into existence gradually through the differentiation of tissues growing from a single cell. In the species it came into existence gradually as the forces of evolution modified the brains of simpler animals. And though our concept of souls used to fit pretty well with natural phenomena — a woman was either pregnant or not, a person was either dead or alive — bio-medical research is now presenting us with cases where the two are out of register. These cases are not just scientific curiosities but are intertwined with pressing issues such as contraception, abortion, infanticide, animal rights, cloning, euthanasia, and research involving human embryos, especially the harvesting of stem cells.

In the face of these difficult choices it is tempting to look to biology to find or ratify boundaries such as “when life begins.” But that only highlights the clash between two incommensurable ways of conceiving life and mind. The intuitive and morally useful concept of an immaterial spirit simply cannot be reconciled with the scientific concept of brain activity emerging gradually in ontogeny and phylogeny. No matter where we try to draw the line between life and nonlife, or between mind and nonmind, ambiguous cases pop up to challenge our moral intuitions.

The closest event we can find to a thunderclap marking the entry of a soul  {225}  into the world is the moment of conception. At that instant a new human genome is determined, and we have an entity destined to develop into a unique individual. The Catholic Church and certain other Christian denominations designate conception as the moment of ensoulment and the beginning of life (which, of course, makes abortion a form of murder). But just as a microscope reveals that a straight edge is really ragged, research on human reproduction shows that the “moment of conception” is not a moment at all. Sometimes several sperm penetrate the outer membrane of the egg, and it takes time for the egg to eject the extra chromosomes. What and where is the soul during this interval? Even when a single sperm enters, its genes remain separate from those of the egg for a day or more, and it takes yet another day or so for the newly merged genome to control the cell. So the “moment” of conception is in fact a span of twenty-four to forty-eight hours.²² Nor is the conceptus destined to become a baby. Between two-thirds and three-quarters of them never implant in the uterus and are spontaneously aborted, some because they are genetically defective, others for no discernible reason.

Still, one might say that at whatever point during this interlude the new genome is formed, the specification of a unique new person has come into existence. The soul, by this reasoning, may be identified with the genome. But during the next few days, as the embryo's cells begin to divide, they can split into several embryos, which develop into identical twins, triplets, and so on. Do identical twins share a soul? Did the Dionne quintuplets make do with one-fifth of a soul each? If not, where did the four extra souls come from? Indeed, every cell in the growing embryo is capable, with the right manipulations, of becoming a new embryo that can grow into a child. Does a multicell embryo consist of one soul per cell, and if so, where do the other souls go when the cells lose that ability? And not only can one embryo become two people, but two embryos can become one person. Occasionally two fertilized eggs, which ordinarily would go on to become fraternal twins, merge into a single embryo that develops into a person who is a genetic chimera: some of her cells have one genome, others have another genome. Does her body house two souls?

For that matter, if human cloning ever became possible (and there appears to be no technical obstacle), every cell in a person's body would have the special ability that is supposedly unique to a conceptus, namely developing into a human being. True, the genes in a cheek cell can become a person only with unnatural intervention, but that is just as true for an egg that is fertilized in vitro. Yet no one would deny that children conceived by IVF have souls.

The idea that ensoulment takes place at conception is not only hard to reconcile with biology but does not have the moral superiority credited to it. It implies that we should prosecute users of intrauterine contraceptive devices and the “morning-after pill” for murder, because they prevent the conceptus from implanting. It implies that we should divert medical research from  {226}  curing cancer and heart disease to preventing the spontaneous miscarriages of vast numbers of microscopic conceptuses. It impels us to find surrogate mothers for the large number of embryos left over from IVF that are currently sitting in fertility clinic freezers. It would outlaw research on conception and early embryonic development that promises to reduce infertility, birth defects, and pediatric cancer, and research on stem cells that could lead to treatments for Alzheimer's disease, Parkinson's disease, diabetes, and spinal-cord injuries. And it flouts the key moral intuition that other people are worthy of moral consideration because of their feelings — their ability to love, think, plan, enjoy, and suffer — all of which depend on a functioning nervous system.

The enormous moral costs of equating a person with a conceptus, and the cognitive gymnastics required to maintain that belief in the face of modern biology, can sometimes lead to an agonizing reconsideration of deeply held beliefs. In 2001, Senator Orrin Hatch of Utah broke with his longtime allies in the anti-abortion movement and came out in favor of stem-cell research after studying the science of reproduction and meditating on his Mormon faith. “I have searched my conscience,” he said. “I just cannot equate a child living in the womb, with moving toes and fingers and a beating heart, with an embryo in a freezer.”²³

The belief that bodies are invested with souls is not just a product of religious doctrine but embedded in people's psychology and likely to emerge whenever they have not digested the findings of biology. The public reaction to cloning is a case in point. Some people fear that cloning would present us with the option of becoming immortal, others that it could produce an army of obedient zombies, or a source of organs for the original person to harvest when needed. In the recent Arnold Schwarzenegger movie The Sixth Day, clones are called “blanks,” and their DNA gives them only a physical form, not a mind; they acquire a mind when a neural recording of the original person is downloaded into them. When Dolly the sheep was cloned in 1997, the cover of Der Spiegel showed a parade of Claudia Schiffers, Hitlers, and Einsteins, as if being a supermodel, fascist dictator, or scientific genius could be copied along with the DNA.

Clones, in fact, are just identical twins born at different times. If Einstein had a twin, he would not have been a zombie, would not have continued Einstein's stream of consciousness if Einstein had predeceased him, would not have given up his vital organs without a struggle, and probably would have been no Einstein (since intelligence is only partly heritable). The same would be true of a person cloned from a speck of Einstein. The bizarre misconceptions of cloning can be traced to the persistent belief that the body is suffused with a soul. One conception of cloning, which sets off a fear of an army of zombies, blanks, or organ farms, imagines the process to be the duplication of a body without a soul. The other, which sets off fears of a Faustian grab at  {227}  immortality or of a resurrected Hitler, conceives of cloning as duplicating the body together with the soul. This conception may also underlie the longing of some bereaved parents for a dead child to be cloned, as if that would bring the child back to life. In fact, the clone would not only grow up in a different world from the one the dead sibling grew up in, but would have different brain tissue and would traverse a different line of sentient experience.

The discovery that what we call “the person” emerges piecemeal from a gradually developing brain forces us to reframe problems in bioethics. It would have been convenient if biologists had discovered a point at which the brain is fully assembled and is plugged in and turned on for the first time, but that is not how brains work. The nervous system emerges in the embryo as a simple tube and differentiates into a brain and spinal cord. The brain begins to function in the fetus, but it continues to wire itself well into childhood and even adolescence. The demand by both religious and secular ethicists that we identify the “criteria for personhood” assumes that a dividing line in brain development can be found. But any claim that such a line has been sighted leads to moral absurdities.

If we set the boundary for personhood at birth, we should be prepared to allow an abortion minutes before birth, despite the lack of any significant difference between a late-term fetus and a neonate. It seems more reasonable to draw the line at viability. But viability is a continuum that depends on the state of current biomedical technology and on the risks of impairment that parents are willing to tolerate in their child. And it invites the obvious rejoinder: if it is all right to abort a twenty-four-week fetus, then why not the barely distinguishable fetus of twenty-four weeks plus one day? And if that is permissible, why not a fetus of twenty-four weeks plus two days, or three days, and so on until birth? On the other hand, if it is impermissible to abort a fetus the day before its birth, then what about two days before, and three days, and so on, all the way back to conception?

We face the same problem in reverse when considering euthanasia and living wills at the end of life. Most people do not depart this world in a puff of smoke but suffer a gradual and uneven breakdown of the various parts of the brain and body. Many kinds and degrees of existence lie between the living and the dead, and that will become even more true as medical technology improves.

We face the problem again in grappling with demands for animal rights. Activists who grant the right to life to any sentient being must conclude that a hamburger eater is a party to murder and that a rodent exterminator is a perpetrator of mass murder. They must outlaw medical research that would sacrifice a few mice but save a million children from painful deaths (since no one would agree to drafting a few human beings for such experiments, and on this view mice have the rights we ordinarily grant to people). On the other hand,  {228}  an opponent of animal rights who maintains that personhood comes from being a member of Homo sapiens is just a species bigot, no more thoughtful than the race bigots who value the lives of whites more than blacks. After all, other mammals fight to stay alive, appear to experience pleasure, and undergo pain, fear, and stress when their well-being is compromised. The great apes also share our higher pleasures of curiosity and love of kin, and our deeper aches of boredom, loneliness, and grief. Why should those interests be respected for our species but not for others?

Some moral philosophers try to thread a boundary across this treacherous landscape by equating personhood with cognitive traits that humans happen to possess. These include an ability to reflect upon oneself as a continuous locus of consciousness, to form and savor plans for the future, to dread death, and to express a choice not to die.²⁴ At first glance the boundary is appealing because it puts humans on one side and animals and conceptuses on the other. But it also implies that nothing is wrong with killing unwanted newborns, the senile, and the mentally handicapped, who lack the qualifying traits. Almost no one is willing to accept a criterion with those implications.

There is no solution to these dilemmas, because they arise out of a fundamental incommensurability: between our intuitive psychology, with its all-or-none concept of a person or soul, and the brute facts of biology, which tell us that the human brain evolved gradually, develops gradually, and can die gradually. And that means that moral conundrums such as abortion, euthanasia, and animal rights will never be resolved in a decisive and intuitively satisfying way. This does not mean that no policy is defensible and that the whole matter should be left to personal taste, political power, or religious dogma. As the bioethicist Ronald Green has pointed out, it just means we have to reconceptualize the problem: from finding a boundary in nature to choosing a boundary that best trades off the conflicting goods and evils for each policy dilemma.²⁵ We should make decisions in each case that can be practically implemented, that maximize happiness, and that minimize current and future suffering. Many of our current policies are already compromises of this sort: research on animals is permitted but regulated; a late-term fetus is not awarded full legal status as a person but may not be aborted unless it is necessary to protect the mother's life or health. Green notes that the shift from finding boundaries to choosing boundaries is a conceptual revolution of Copernican proportions. But the old conceptualization, which amounts to trying to pinpoint when the ghost enters the machine, is scientifically untenable and has no business guiding policy in the twenty-first century.

The traditional argument against pragmatic, case-by-case decisions is that they lead to slippery slopes. If we allow abortion, we will soon allow infanticide; if we permit research on stem cells, we will bring on a Brave New World of government-engineered humans. But here, I think, the nature of human  {229}  cognition can get us out of the dilemma rather than pushing us into one. A slippery slope assumes that conceptual categories must have crisp boundaries that allow in-or-out decisions, or else anything goes. But that is not how human concepts work. As we have seen, many everyday concepts have fuzzy boundaries, and the mind distinguishes between a fuzzy boundary and no boundary at all. “Adult” and “child” are fuzzy categories, which is why we could raise the drinking age to twenty-one or lower the voting age to eighteen. But that did not put us on a slippery slope in which we eventually raised the drinking age to fifty or lowered the voting age to five. Those policies really would violate our concepts of “child” and “adult,” fuzzy though their boundaries may be. In the same way, we can bring our concepts of life and mind into register with biological reality without necessarily slipping down a slope.

~

When a 1999 cyclone in India left millions of people in danger of starvation, some activists denounced relief societies for distributing a nutritious grain meal because it contained genetically modified varieties of corn and soybeans (varieties that had been eaten without apparent harm in the United States). These activists are also opposed to “golden rice,” a genetically modified variety that could prevent blindness in millions of children in the developing world and alleviate vitamin A deficiency in a quarter of a billion more.²⁶ Other activists have vandalized research facilities at which the safety of genetically modified foods is tested and new varieties are developed. For these people, even the possibility that such foods could be safe is unacceptable.

A 2001 report by the European Union reviewed eighty-one research projects conducted over fifteen years and failed to find any new risks to human health or to the environment posed by genetically modified crops.²⁷ This is no surprise to a biologist. Genetically modified foods are no more dangerous than “natural” foods because they are not fundamentally different from natural foods. Virtually every animal and vegetable sold in a health-food store has been “genetically modified” for millennia by selective breeding and hybridization. The wild ancestor of carrots was a thin, bitter white root; the ancestor of corn had an inch-long, easily shattered cob with a few small, rock-hard kernels. Plants are Darwinian creatures with no particular desire to be eaten, so they did not go out of their way to be tasty, healthy, or easy for us to grow and harvest. On the contrary: they did go out of their way to deter us from eating them, by evolving irritants, toxins, and bitter-tasting compounds.²⁸ So there is nothing especially safe about natural foods. The “natural” method of selective breeding for pest resistance simply increases the concentration of the plant's own poisons; one variety of natural potato had to be withdrawn from the market because it proved to be toxic to people.²⁹ Similarly, natural flavors — defined by one food scientist as “a flavor that's been derived with an out-of-date technology” — are often chemically indistinguishable from their artificial  {230}  counterparts, and when they are distinguishable, sometimes the natural flavor is the more dangerous one. When “natural” almond flavor, benzaldehyde, is derived from peach pits, it is accompanied by traces of cyanide; when it is synthesized as an “artificial flavor,” it is not.³⁰

A blanket fear of all artificial and genetically modified foods is patently irrational on health grounds, and it could make food more expensive and hence less available to the poor. Where do these specious fears come from? Partly they arise from the carcinogen-du-jour school of journalism that uncritically reports any study showing elevated cancer rates in rats fed megadoses of chemicals. But partly they come from an intuition about living things that was first identified by the anthropologist James George Frazer in 1890 and has recently been studied in the lab by Paul Rozin, Susan Gelman, Frank Keil, Scott Atran, and other cognitive scientists.³¹

People's intuitive biology begins with the concept of an invisible essence residing in living things, which gives them their form and powers. These essentialist beliefs emerge early in childhood, and in traditional cultures they dominate reasoning about plants and animals. Often the intuitions serve people well. They allow preschoolers to deduce that a raccoon that looks like a skunk will have raccoon babies, that a seed taken from an apple and planted with flowers in a pot will produce an apple tree, and that an animal's behavior depends on its innards, not on its appearance. They allow traditional peoples to deduce that different-looking creatures (such as a caterpillar and a butterfly) can belong to the same kind, and they impel them to extract juices and powders from living things and try them as medicines, poisons, and food supplements. They can prevent people from sickening themselves by eating things that have been in contact with infectious substances such as feces, sick people, and rotting meat.³²

But intuitive essentialism can also lead people into error.³³ Children falsely believe that a child of English-speaking parents will speak English even if brought up in a French-speaking family, and that boys will have short hair and girls will wear dresses even if they are brought up with no other member of their sex from which they can learn those habits. Traditional peoples believe in sympathetic magic, otherwise known as voodoo. They think similar-looking objects have similar powers, so that a ground-up rhinoceros horn is a cure for erectile dysfunction. And they think that animal parts can transmit their powers to anything they mingle with, so that eating or wearing a part of a fierce animal will make one fierce.

Educated Westerners should not feel too smug. Rozin has shown that we have voodoolike intuitions ourselves. Most Americans won't touch a sterilized cockroach, or even a plastic one, and won't drink juice that the roach has touched for even a fraction of a second.³⁴ And even Ivy League students believe that you are what you eat. They judge that a tribe that hunts turtles for their  {231}  meat and wild boar for their bristles will be good swimmers, and that a tribe that hunts turtles for their shells and wild boar for their meat will be tough fighters.³⁵ In his history of biology, Ernst Mayr showed that many biologists originally rejected the theory of natural selection because of their belief that a species was a pure type defined by an essence. They could not wrap their minds around the concept that species are populations of variable individuals and that one can blend into another over evolutionary time.³⁶

In this context, the fear of genetically modified foods no longer seems so strange: it is simply the standard human intuition that every living thing has an essence. Natural foods are thought to have the pure essence of the plant or animal and to carry with them the rejuvenating powers of the pastoral environment in which they grew. Genetically modified foods, or foods containing artificial additives, are thought of as being deliberately laced with a contaminant tainted by its origins in an acrid laboratory or factory. Arguments that invoke genetics, biochemistry, evolution, and risk analysis are likely to fall on deaf ears when pitted against this deep-rooted way of thinking.

Essentialist intuitions are not the only reason that perceptions of danger can be off the mark. Risk analysts have discovered to their bemusement that people's fears are often way out of line with objective hazards. Many people avoid flying, though car travel is eleven times more dangerous. They fear getting eaten by a shark, though they are four hundred times more likely to drown in their bathtub. They clamor for expensive measures to get chloroform and trichloroethylene out of drinking water, though they are hundreds of times more likely to get cancer from a daily peanut butter sandwich (since peanuts can carry a highly carcinogenic mold).³⁷ Some of these risks may be misestimated because they tap into our innate fears of heights, confinement, predation, and poisoning.³⁸ But even when people are presented with objective information about danger, they may not appreciate it because of the way the mind assesses probabilities.

A statement like “The chance of dying of botulism poisoning in a given year is .000001” is virtually incomprehensible. For one thing, magnitudes with lots of zeroes at the beginning or end are beyond the ken of our number sense. The psychologist Paul Slovic and his colleagues found that people are unmoved by a lecture on the hazards of not wearing a seat belt which mentions that a fatal collision occurs once in every 3.5 million person-trips. But they say they will buckle up when the odds are recalculated to show that their lifetime chance of dying in a collision is one percent.³⁹

The other reason for the incomprehensibility of many statistics is that the probability of a single event, such as my dying in a plane crash (as opposed to the frequency of some events relative to others, such as the proportion of all airline passengers who die in crashes), is a genuinely puzzling concept, even to mathematicians. What sense can we make of the odds offered by expert  {232}  bookmakers for particular events, such as that the Archbishop of Canterbury will confirm the second coming within a year (1000 to 1), that a Mr. Braham of Luton, England, will invent a perpetual motion machine (250 to 1), or that Elvis Presley is alive and well (1000 to 1)?⁴⁰ Either Elvis is alive or he isn't, so what does it mean to say that the probability that he is alive is .001? Similarly, what should we think when aviation safety analysts tell us that on average a single landing in a commercial airliner reduces one's life expectancy by fifteen minutes? When the plane comes down, either my life expectancy will be reduced by a lot more than fifteen minutes or it won't be reduced at all. Some mathematicians say that the probability of a single event is more like a gut feeling of confidence, expressed on a scale of 0 to 1, than a meaningful mathematical quantity.⁴¹

The mind is more comfortable in reckoning probabilities in terms of the relative frequency of remembered or imagined events.⁴² That can make recent and memorable events — a plane crash, a shark attack, an anthrax infection — loom larger in one's worry list than more frequent and boring events, such as the car crashes and ladder falls that get printed beneath the fold on page B14. And it can lead risk experts to speak one language and ordinary people to hear another. In hearings for a proposed nuclear waste site, an expert might present a fault tree that lays out the conceivable sequences of events by which radioactivity might escape. For example, erosion, cracks in the bedrock, accidental drilling, or improper sealing might cause the release of radioactivity into groundwater. In turn, groundwater movement, volcanic activity, or an impact of a large meteorite might cause the release of radioactive wastes into the biosphere. Each train of events can be assigned a probability, and the aggregate probability of an accident from all the causes can be estimated. When people hear these analyses, however, they are not reassured but become more fearful than ever — they hadn't realized there are so many ways for something to go wrong! They mentally tabulate the number of disaster scenarios, rather than mentally aggregating the probabilities of the disaster scenarios.⁴³

None of this implies that people are dunces or that “experts” should ram unwanted technologies down their throats. Even with a complete understanding of the risks, reasonable people might choose to forgo certain technological advances. If something is viscerally revolting, a democracy should allow people to reject it whether or not it is “rational” by some criterion that ignores our psychology. Many people would reject vegetables grown in sanitized human waste and would avoid an elevator with a glass floor, not because they believe these things are dangerous but because the thought gives them the willies. If they have the same reaction to eating genetically modified foods or living next to a nuclear power plant, they should have the option of rejecting them, too, as long as they do not try to force their preferences on others or saddle them with the costs.  {233} 

Also, even if technocrats provide reasonable estimates of a risk (which is itself an iffy enterprise), they cannot dictate what level of risk people ought to accept. People might object to a nuclear power plant that has a minuscule risk of a meltdown not because they overestimate the risk but because they feel that the costs of the catastrophe, no matter how remote, are too dreadful. And of course any of these tradeoffs may be unacceptable if people perceive that the benefits would go to the wealthy and powerful while they themselves absorb the risks.

Nonetheless, understanding the difference between our best science and our ancient ways of thinking can only make our individual and collective decisions better informed. It can help scientists and journalists explain a new technology in the face of the most common misunderstandings. And it can help all of us understand the technology so that we can accept or reject it on grounds that we can justify to ourselves and to others.

~

In The Wealth of Nations, Adam Smith wrote that there is “a certain propensity in human nature ... to truck, barter, and exchange one thing for another.” The exchange of goods and favors is a human universal and may have an ancient history. In archaeological sites tens of millennia old, pretty seashells and sharp flints are found hundreds of miles from their sources, which suggests that they got there by networks of trade.⁴⁴

The anthropologist Alan Fiske has surveyed the ethnographic literature and found that virtually all human transactions fall into four patterns, each with a distinctive psychology.⁴⁵ The first is Communal Sharing: groups of people, such as the members of a family, share things without keeping track of who gets what. The second is Authority Ranking: dominant people confiscate what they want from lower-ranking ones. But the other two types of transactions are defined by exchanges.

The most common kind of exchange is what Fiske calls Equality Matching. Two people exchange goods or favors at different times, and the traded items are identical or at least highly similar or easily comparable. The trading partners assess their debts by simple addition or subtraction and are satisfied when the favors even out. The partners feel that the exchange binds them in a relationship, and often people will consummate exchanges just to maintain it. For example, in the trading rings of the Pacific Islands, gifts circulate from chief to chief, and the original giver may eventually get his gift back. (Many Americans suspect that this is what happens to Christmas fruitcakes.) When someone violates an Equality Matching relationship by taking a benefit without returning it in kind, the other party feels cheated and may retaliate aggressively. Equality Matching is the only mechanism of trade in most hunter-gatherer societies. Fiske notes that it is supported by a mental model of tit-for-tat reciprocity, and Leda Cosmides and John Tooby have shown that  {234}  this way of thinking comes easily to Americans as well.⁴⁶ It appears to be the core of our intuitive economics.

Fiske contrasts Equality Matching with a very different system called Market Pricing, the system of rents, prices, wages, and interest rates that underlies modern economies. Market Pricing relies on the mathematics of multiplication, division, fractions, and large numbers, together with the social institutions of money, credit, written contracts, and complex divisions of labor. Market Pricing is absent in hunter-gatherer societies, and we know it played no role in our evolutionary history because it relies on technologies like writing, money, and formal mathematics, which appeared only recently. Even today the exchanges carried out by Market Pricing may involve causal chains that are impossible for any individual to grasp in full. I press some keys to enter characters into this manuscript today and entitle myself to receive some groceries years from now, not because I will barter a copy of The Blank Slate to a banana grower but because of a tangled web of third and fourth and fifth parties (publishers, booksellers, truckers, commodity brokers) that I depend on without fully understanding what they do.

When people have different ideas about which of these four modes of interacting applies to a current relationship, the result can range from blank incomprehension to acute discomfort or outright hostility. Think about a dinner guest offering to pay the host for her meal, a person barking an order to a friend, or an employee helping himself to a shrimp off the boss's plate. Misunderstandings in which one person thinks of a transaction in terms of Equality Matching and another thinks in terms of Market Pricing are even more pervasive and can be even more dangerous. They tap into very different psychologies, one of them intuitive and universal, the other rarefied and learned, and clashes between them have been common in economic history.

Economists refer to “the physical fallacy”: the belief that an object has a true and constant value, as opposed to being worth only what someone is willing to pay for it at a given place and time.⁴⁷ This is simply the difference between the Equality Matching and Market Pricing mentalities. The physical fallacy may not arise when three chickens are exchanged for one knife, but when the exchanges are mediated by money, credit, and third parties, the fallacy can have ugly consequences. The belief that goods have a “just price” implies that it is avaricious to charge anything higher, and the result has been mandatory pricing schemes in medieval times, communist regimes, and many Third World countries. Such attempts to work around the law of supply and demand have usually led to waste, shortages, and black markets. Another consequence of the physical fallacy is the widespread practice of outlawing interest, which comes from the intuition that it is rapacious to demand additional money from someone who has paid back exactly what he borrowed. Of course, the only reason people borrow at one time and repay it later is that the  {235}  money is worth more to them at the time they borrow it than it will be at the time they repay it. So when regimes enact sweeping usury laws, people who could put money to productive use cannot get it, and everyone's standards of living go down.⁴⁸

Just as the value of something may change with time, which creates a niche for lenders who move valuable things around in time, so it may change with space, which creates a niche for middlemen who move valuable things around in space. A banana is worth more to me in a store down the street than it is in a warehouse a hundred miles away, so I am willing to pay more to the grocer than I would to the importer — even though by “eliminating the middleman” I could pay less per banana. For similar reasons, the importer is willing to charge the grocer less than he would charge me.

But because lenders and middlemen do not cause tangible objects to come into being, their contributions are difficult to grasp, and they are often thought of as skimmers and parasites. A recurring event in human history is the outbreak of ghettoization, confiscation, expulsion, and mob violence against middlemen, often ethnic minorities who learned to specialize in the middleman niche.⁴⁹ The Jews in Europe are the most familiar example, but the expatriate Chinese, the Lebanese, the Armenians, and the Gujeratis and Chettyars of India have suffered similar histories of persecution.

One economist in an unusual situation showed how the physical fallacy does not depend on any unique historical circumstance but easily arises from human psychology. He watched the entire syndrome emerge before his eyes when he spent time in a World War II prisoner-of-war camp. Every month the prisoners received identical packages from the Red Cross. A few prisoners circulated through the camp, trading and lending chocolates, cigarettes, and other commodities among prisoners who valued some items more than others or who had used up their own rations before the end of the month. The middlemen made a small profit from each transaction, and as a result they were deeply resented — a microcosm of the tragedy of the middleman minority. The economist wrote: “[The middleman's] function, and his hard work in bringing buyer and seller together, were ignored; profits were not regarded as a reward for labour, but as the result of sharp practises. Despite the fact that his very existence was proof to the contrary, the middleman was held to be redundant.”⁵⁰ The obvious cure for the tragic shortcomings of human intuition in a high-tech world is education. And this offers priorities for educational policy: to provide students with the cognitive tools that are most important for grasping the modern world and that are most unlike the cognitive tools they are born with. The perilous fallacies we have seen in this chapter, for example, would give high priority to economics, evolutionary biology, and probability and statistics in any high school or college curriculum. Unfortunately, most curricula have barely changed since medieval times, and are barely changeable, because  {236}  no one wants to be the philistine who seems to be saying that it is unimportant to learn a foreign language, or English literature, or trigonometry, or the classics. But no matter how valuable a subject may be, there are only twenty-four hours in a day, and a decision to teach one subject is also a decision not to teach another one. The question is not whether trigonometry is important, but whether it is more important than statistics; not whether an educated person should know the classics, but whether it is more important for an educated person to know the classics than to know elementary economics. In a world whose complexities are constantly challenging our intuitions, these tradeoffs cannot responsibly be avoided.

~

“Our nature is an illimitable space through which the intelligence moves without coming to an end,” wrote the poet Wallace Stevens in 1951.⁵¹ The limitlessness of intelligence comes from the power of a combinatorial system. Just as a few notes can combine into any melody and a few characters can combine into any printed text, a few ideas — person, place, thing, cause, change, move, and, or, not — can combine into an illimitable space of thoughts.⁵² The ability to conceive an unlimited number of new combinations of ideas is the powerhouse of human intelligence and a key to our success as a species. Tens of thousands of years ago our ancestors conceived new sequences of actions that could drive game, extract a poison, treat an illness, or secure an alliance. The modern mind can conceive of a substance as a combination of atoms, the plan for a living thing as the combination of DNA nucleotides, and a relationship among quantities as a combination of mathematical symbols. Language, itself a combinatorial system, allows us to share these intellectual fruits.

The combinatorial powers of the human mind can help explain a paradox about the place of our species on the planet. Two hundred years ago the economist Thomas Malthus (1766–1834) called attention to two enduring features of human nature. One is that “food is necessary for the existence of man.” The other is that “the passion between the sexes is necessary and will remain nearly in its present state.” He famously deduced:

The power of population is indefinitely greater than the power in the earth to produce subsistence for man. Population, when unchecked, increases in a geometrical ratio. Subsistence increases only in an arithmetic ratio. A slight acquaintance with numbers will show the immensity of the first power in comparison with the second.

Malthus depressingly concluded that an increasing proportion of humanity would starve, and that efforts to aid them would only lead to more misery because the poor would breed children doomed to hunger in their turn. Many recent prophets of gloom reiterated his argument. In 1967 William and Paul  {237}  Paddock wrote a book called Famine 1975! and in 1970 the biologist Paul Ehrlich, author of The Population Bomb, predicted that sixty-five million Americans and four billion other people would starve to death in the 1980s. In 1972 a group of big thinkers known as the Club of Rome predicted that either natural resources would suffer from catastrophic declines in the ensuing decades or that the world would choke in pollutants.

The Malthusian predictions of the 1970s have been disconfirmed. Ehrlich was wrong both about the four billion victims of starvation and about declining resources. In 1980 he bet the economist Julian Simon that five strategic metals would become increasingly scarce by the end of the decade and would thus rise in price. He lost five out of five bets. The famines and shortages never happened, despite increases both in the number of people on Earth (now six billion and counting) and in the amount of energy and resources consumed by each one.⁵³ Horrific famines still occur, of course, but not because of a worldwide discrepancy between the number of mouths and the amount of food. The economist Amartya Sen has shown that they can almost always be traced to short-lived conditions or to political and military upheavals that prevent food from reaching the people who need it.⁵⁴

The state of our planet is a vital concern, and we need the clearest possible understanding of where the problems lie so as not to misdirect our efforts. The repeated failure of simple Malthusian thinking shows that it cannot be the best way to analyze environmental challenges. Still, Malthus's logic seems impeccable. Where did it go wrong?

The immediate problem with Malthusian prophecies is that they underestimate the effects of technological change in increasing the resources that support a comfortable life.⁵⁵ In the twentieth century food supplies increased exponentially, not linearly. Farmers grew more crops on a given plot of land. Processors transformed more of the crops into edible food. Trucks, ships, and planes got the food to more people before it spoiled or was eaten by pests. Reserves of oil and minerals increased, rather than decreased, because engineers could find more of them and figure out new ways to get at them.

Many people are reluctant to grant technology this seemingly miraculous role. A technology booster sounds too much like the earnest voiceover in a campy futuristic exhibit at the world's fair. Technology may have bought us a temporary reprieve, one might think, but it is not a source of inexhaustible magic. It cannot refute the laws of mathematics, which pit exponential population growth against finite, or at best arithmetically increasing, resources. Optimism would seem to require a faith that the circle can be squared.

But recently the economist Paul Romer has invoked the combinatorial nature of cognitive information processing to show how the circle might be squared after all.⁵⁶ He begins by pointing out that human material existence is limited by ideas, not by stuff. People don't need coal or copper wire or paper  {238}  per se; they need ways to heat their homes, communicate with other people, and store information. Those needs don't have to be satisfied by increasing the availability of physical resources. They can be satisfied by using new ideas — recipes, designs, or techniques — to rearrange existing resources to yield more of what we want. For example, petroleum used to be just a contaminant of water wells; then it became a source of fuel, replacing the declining supply of whale oil. Sand was once used to make glass; now it is used to make microchips and optical fiber.

Romer's second point is that ideas are what economists call “nonrival goods.” Rival goods, such as food, fuel, and tools, are made of matter and energy. If one person uses them, others cannot, as we recognize in the saying “You can't eat your cake and have it.” But ideas are made of information, which can be duplicated at negligible cost. A recipe for bread, a blueprint for a building, a technique for growing rice, a formula for a drug, a useful scientific law, or a computer program can be given away without anything being subtracted from the giver. The seemingly magical proliferation of nonrival goods has recently confronted us with new problems concerning intellectual property, as we try to adapt a legal system that was based on owning stuff to the problem of owning information — such as musical recordings — that can easily be shared over the Internet.

The power of nonrival goods may have been a presence throughout human evolutionary history. The anthropologists John Tooby and Irven De-Vore have argued that millions of years ago our ancestors occupied the “cognitive niche” in the world's ecosystem. By evolving mental computations that can model the causal texture of the environment, hominids could play out scenarios in their mind's eye and figure out new ways of exploiting the rocks, plants, and animals around them. Human practical intelligence may have co-evolved with language (which allows know-how to be shared at low cost) and with social cognition (which allows people to cooperate without being cheated), yielding a species that literally lives by the power of ideas.

Romer points out that the combinatorial process of creating new ideas can circumvent the logic of Malthus:

Every generation has perceived the limits to growth that finite resources and undesirable side effects would pose if no new recipes or ideas were discovered. And every generation has underestimated the potential for finding new recipes and ideas. We consistently fail to grasp how many ideas remain to be discovered. The difficulty is the same one we have with compounding. Possibilities do not add up. They multiply.⁵⁷

For example, a hundred chemical elements, combined serially four at a time and in ten different proportions, can yield 330 billion compounds. If scientists  {239}  evaluated them at a rate of a thousand a day, it would take them a million years to work through the possibilities. The number of ways of assembling instructions into computer programs or parts into machines is equally mind-boggling. At least in principle, the exponential power of human cognition works on the same scale as the growth of the human population, and we can resolve the paradox of the Malthusian disaster that never happened. None of this licenses complacency about our use of natural resources, of course. The fact that the space of possible ideas is staggeringly large does not mean that the solution to a given problem lies in that space or that we will find it by the time we need it. It only means that our understanding of humans’ relation to the material world has to acknowledge not just our bodies and our resources but also our minds.

~

The truism that all good things come with costs as well as benefits applies in full to the combinatorial powers of the human mind. If the mind is a biological organ rather than a window onto reality, there should be truths that are literally inconceivable, and limits to how well we can ever grasp the discoveries of science.

The possibility that we might come to the end of our cognitive rope has been brought home by modern physics. We have every reason to believe that the best theories in physics are true, but they present us with a picture of reality that makes no sense to the intuitions about space, time, and matter that evolved in the brains of middle-sized primates. The strange ideas of physics — for instance, that time came into existence with the Big Bang, that the universe is curved in the fourth dimension and possibly finite, and that a particle may act like a wave — just make our heads hurt the more we ponder them. It's impossible to stop thinking thoughts that are literally incoherent, such as “What was it like before the Big Bang?” or “What lies beyond the edge of the universe?” or “How does the damn particle manage to pass through two slits at the same time?” Even the physicists who discovered the nature of reality claim not to understand their theories. Murray Gell-Mann described quantum mechanics as “that mysterious, confusing discipline which none of us really understands but which we know how to use.”⁵⁸ Richard Feynman wrote, “I think I can safely say that no one understands quantum mechanics.... Do not keep asking yourself, if you can possibly avoid it, ‘But how can it be like that?'... Nobody knows how it can be like that.”⁵⁹ In another interview, he added, “If you think you understand quantum theory, you don't understand quantum theory!”⁶⁰

Our intuitions about life and mind, like our intuitions about matter and space, may have run up against a strange world forged by our best science. We have seen how the concept of life as a magical spirit united with our bodies doesn't get along with our understanding of the mind as the activity of a gradually developing brain. Other intuitions about the mind find themselves just  {240}  as flat-footed in pursuit of the advancing frontier of cognitive neuroscience. We have every reason to believe that consciousness and decision making arise from the electrochemical activity of neural networks in the brain. But how moving molecules should throw off subjective feelings (as opposed to mere intelligent computations) and how they bring about choices that we freely make (as opposed to behavior that is caused) remain deep enigmas to our Pleistocene psyches.

These puzzles have an infuriatingly holistic quality to them. Consciousness and free will seem to suffuse the neurobiological phenomena at every level, and cannot be pinpointed to any combination or interaction among parts. The best analyses from our combinatorial intellects provide no hooks on which we can hang these strange entities, and thinkers seem condemned either to denying their existence or to wallowing in mysticism. For better or worse, our world might always contain a wisp of mystery, and our descendants might endlessly ponder the age-old conundrums of religion and philosophy, which ultimately hinge on concepts of matter and mind.⁶¹ Ambrose Bierce's The Devil's Dictionary contains the following entry:

Mind, n. A mysterious form of matter secreted by the brain. Its chief activity consists in the endeavor to ascertain its own nature, the futility of the attempt being due to the fact that it has nothing but itself to know itself with.

Chapter 14

The Many Roots of Our Suffering

The first edition of Richard Dawkins's The Selfish Gene contained a foreword by the biologist who originated some of its key ideas, Robert Trivers. He closed with a flourish:

Darwinian social theory gives us a glimpse of an underlying symmetry and logic in social relationships which, when more fully comprehended by ourselves, should revitalize our political understanding and provide the intellectual support for a science and medicine of psychology. In the process it should also give us a deeper understanding of the many roots of our suffering.¹

These were arresting claims for a book on biology, but Trivers knew he was onto something. Social psychology, the science of how people behave toward one another, is often a mishmash of interesting phenomena that are “explained” by giving them fancy names. Missing is the rich deductive structure of other sciences, in which a few deep principles can generate a wealth of subtle predictions — the kind of theory that scientists praise as “beautiful” or “elegant.” Trivers derived the first theory in social psychology that deserves to be called elegant. He showed that a deceptively simple principle — follow the genes — can explain the logic of each of the major kinds of human relationships: how we feel toward our parents, our children,our siblings, our lovers, our friends, and ourselves.² But Trivers knew that the theory did something else as well. It offered a scientific explanation for the tragedy of the human condition.

“Nature is a hanging judge,” goes an old saying. Many tragedies come from our physical and cognitive makeup. Our bodies are extraordinarily improbable arrangements of matter, with many ways for things to go wrong and only a few ways for things to go right. We are certain to die, and smart enough to know it. Our minds are adapted to a world that no longer exists, prone to  {242}  misunderstandings correctable only by arduous education, and condemned to perplexity about the deepest questions we can entertain.

But some of the most painful shocks come from the social world — from the manipulations and betrayals of other people. According to the fable, a scorpion asked a frog to carry him across a river, reassuring the frog that he wouldn't sting him because if he did, he would drown too. Halfway across, the scorpion did sting him, and when the sinking frog asked why, the scorpion replied, “It's in my nature.” Technically speaking, a scorpion with this nature could not have evolved, but Trivers has explained why it sometimes seems as if human nature is like the fabled scorpion nature, condemned to apparently pointless conflict.

It's no mystery why organisms sometimes harm one another. Evolution has no conscience, and if one creature hurts another to benefit itself, such as by eating, parasitizing, intimidating, or cuckolding it, its descendants will come to predominate, complete with those nasty habits. All this is familiar from the vernacular sense of “Darwinian” as a synonym for “ruthless” and from Tennyson's depiction of nature as red in tooth and claw. If that were all there was to the evolution of the human condition, we would have to agree with the rock song: Life sucks, then you die.

But of course life doesn't always suck. Many creatures cooperate, nurture, and make peace, and humans in particular find comfort and joy in their families, friends, and communities. This, too, should be familiar to readers of The Selfish Gene and the other books on the evolution of altruism that have appeared in the years since.³ There are several reasons why organisms may evolve a willingness to do good deeds. They may help other creatures while pursuing their own interests, say, when they form a herd that confuses predators or live off each other's by-products. This is called mutualism, symbiosis, or cooperation. Among humans, friends who have common tastes, hobbies, or enemies are a kind of symbiont pair. The two parents of a brood of children are an even better example. Their genes are tied up in the same package, their children, so what is good for one is good for the other, and each has an interest in keeping the other alive and healthy. These shared interests set the stage for compassionate love and marital love to evolve.

And in some cases organisms may benefit other organisms at a cost to themselves, which biologists call altruism. Altruism in this technical sense can evolve in two main ways. First, since relatives share genes, any gene that inclines an organism toward helping a relative will increase the chance of survival of a copy of itself that sits inside that relative, even if the helper sacrifices its own fitness in the generous act. Such genes will, on average, come to predominate, as long as the cost to the helper is less than the benefit to the recipient discounted by their degree of relatedness. Family love — the cherishing of children,  {243}  siblings, parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts, nieces and nephews, and cousins — can evolve. This is called nepotistic altruism.

Altruism can also evolve when organisms trade favors. One helps another by grooming, feeding, protecting, or backing him, and is helped in turn when the needs reverse. This is called reciprocal altruism, and it can evolve when the parties recognize each other, interact repeatedly, can confer a large benefit on others at small cost to themselves, keep a memory for favors offered or denied, and are impelled to reciprocate accordingly. Reciprocal altruism can evolve because cooperators do better than hermits or misanthropes. They enjoy the gains of trading their surpluses, pulling ticks out of one another's hair, saving each other from drowning or starvation, and baby-sitting each other's children. Reciprocators can also do better over the long run than the cheaters who take favors without returning them, because the reciprocators will come to recognize the cheaters and shun or punish them.

The demands of reciprocal altruism can explain why the social and moralistic emotions evolved. Sympathy and trust prompt people to extend the first favor. Gratitude and loyalty prompt them to repay favors. Guilt and shame deter them from hurting or failing to repay others. Anger and contempt prompt them to avoid or punish cheaters. And among humans, any tendency of an individual to reciprocate or cheat does not have to be witnessed firsthand but can be recounted by language. This leads to an interest in the reputation of others, transmitted by gossip and public approval or condemnation, and a concern with one's own reputation. Partnerships, friendships, alliances, and communities can emerge, cemented by these emotions and concerns.

Many people start to get nervous at this point, but the discomfort is not from the tragedies that Trivers explained. It comes instead from two misconceptions, each of which we have encountered before. First, all this talk about genes that influence behavior does not mean that we are cuckoo clocks or player pianos, mindlessly executing the dictates of DNA. The genes in question are those that endow us with the neural systems for conscience, deliberation, and will, and when we talk about the selection of such genes, we are talking about the various ways those faculties could have evolved. The error comes from the Blank Slate and the Ghost in the Machine: if one starts off thinking that our higher mental faculties are stamped in by society or inhere in a soul, then when biologists mention genetic influence the first alternatives that come to mind are puppet strings or trolley tracks. But if higher faculties, including learning, reason, and choice, are products of a nonrandom organization of the brain, there have to be genes that help do the organizing, and that raises the question of how those genes would have been selected in the course of human evolution.

The second misconception is to imagine that talk about costs and benefits  {244}  implies that people are Machiavellian cynics, coldly calculating the genetic advantages of befriending and marrying. To fret over this picture, or denounce it because it is ugly, is to confuse proximate and ultimate causation. People don't care about their genes; they care about happiness, love, power, respect, and other passions. The cost-benefit calculations are a metaphorical way of describing the selection of alternative genes over millennia, not a literal description of what takes place in a human brain in real time. Nothing prevents the amoral process of natural selection from evolving a brain with genuine big-hearted emotions. It is said that those who appreciate legislation and sausages should not see them being made. The same is true for human emotions.

So if love and conscience can evolve, where's the tragedy? Trivers noticed that the confluence of genetic interests that gave rise to the social emotions is only partial. Because we are not clones, or even social insects (who can share up to three-quarters of their genes), what ultimately is best for one person is not identical to what ultimately is best for another. Thus every human relationship, even the most devoted and intimate, carries the seeds of conflict. In the movie AntZ, an ant with the voice of Woody Allen complains to his psychoanalyst:

It's this whole gung-ho superorganism thing that I just can't get. I try, but I just don't get it. What is it, I'm supposed to do everything for the colony and ... what about my needs?

The humor comes from the clash between ant psychology, which originates in a genetic system that makes workers more closely related to one another than they would be to their offspring, and human psychology, in which our genetic distinctness leads us to ask, “What about my needs?” Trivers, following on the work of William Hamilton and George Williams, did some algebra that predicts the extent to which people should ask themselves that question.⁴

The rest of this chapter is about that deceptively simple algebra and how its implications overturn many conceptions of human nature. It discredits the Blank Slate, which predicts that people's regard for their fellows is determined by their “role,” as if it were a part assigned arbitrarily to an actor. But it also discredits some naïve views of evolution that are common among people who don't believe in the Blank Slate. Most people have intuitions about the natural state of affairs. They may believe that if we acted as nature “wants” us to, families would function as harmonious units, or individuals would act for the good of the species, or people would show the true selves beneath their social masks, or, as Newt Gingrich said in 1995, the male of our species would hunt giraffes and wallow in ditches like little piglets.⁵ Understanding the patterns of genetic overlap that bind and divide us can replace simplistic views of all kinds  {245}  with a more subtle understanding of the human condition. Indeed, it can illuminate the human condition in ways that complement the insights of artists and philosophers through the millennia.

~

The most obvious human tragedy comes from the difference between our feelings toward kin and our feelings toward non-kin, one of the deepest divides in the living world. When it comes to love and solidarity among people, the relative viscosity of blood and water is evident in everything from the clans and dynasties of traditional societies to the clogging of airports during holidays with people traveling across the world to be with their families.⁶ It has also been borne out by quantitative studies. In traditional foraging societies, genetic relatives are more likely to live together, work in each other's gardens, protect each other, and adopt each other's needy or orphaned children, and are less likely to attack, feud with, and kill each other.⁷ Even in modern societies, which tend to sunder ties of kinship, the more closely two people are genetically related, the more inclined they are to come to one another's aid, especially in life-or-death situations.⁸

But love and solidarity are relative. To say that people are more caring toward their relatives is to say that they are more callous toward their nonrelatives. The epigraph to Robert Wright's book on evolutionary psychology is an excerpt from Graham Greene's The Power and the Glory in which the protagonist broods about his daughter: “He said, ‘Oh god, help her. Damn me, I deserve it, but let her live forever.’ This was the love he should have felt for every soul in the world: all the fear and the wish to save concentrated unjustly on the one child. He began to weep.... He thought: This is what I should feel all the time for everyone.”

Family love indeed subverts the ideal of what we should feel for every soul in the world. Moral philosophers play with a hypothetical dilemma in which people can run through the left door of a burning building to save some number of children or through the right door to save their own child.⁹ If you are a parent, ponder this question: Is there any number of children that would lead you to pick the left door? Indeed, all of us reveal our preference with our pocketbooks when we spend money on trifles for our own children (a bicycle, orthodontics, an education at a private school or university) instead of saving the lives of unrelated children in the developing world by donating the money to charity. Similarly, the practice of parents bequeathing their wealth to their children is one of the steepest impediments to an economically egalitarian society. Yet few people would allow the government to confiscate 100 percent of their estate, because most people see their children as an extension of themselves and thus as the proper beneficiaries of their lifelong striving.

Nepotism is a universal human bent and a universal scourge of large organizations. It is notorious for sapping countries led by hereditary dynasties  {246}  and for bogging down governments and businesses in the Third World. A recurring historic solution was to give positions of local power to people who had no family ties, such as eunuchs, celibates, slaves, or people a long way from home.¹⁰ A more recent solution is to outlaw or regulate nepotism, though the regulations always come with tradeoffs and exceptions. Small businesses — or, as they are often called, “family businesses” or “Mom-and-Pop businesses” — are highly nepotistic, and thereby can conflict with principles of equal opportunity and earn the resentment of the surrounding community.

B. F. Skinner, ever the Maoist, wrote in the 1970s that people should be rewarded for eating in large communal dining halls rather than at home with their families, because large pots have a lower ratio of surface area to volume than small pots and hence are more energy efficient. The logic is impeccable, but this mindset collided with human nature many times in the twentieth century — horrifically in the forced collectivizations in the Soviet Union and China, and benignly in the Israeli kibbutzim, which quickly abandoned their policy of rearing children separately from their parents. A character in a novel by the Israeli writer Batya Gur captures the kind of sentiment that led to this change: “I want to tuck in my children at night myself... and when they have a nightmare I want them to come to my bed, not to some intercom, and not to make them go out at night in the dark looking for our room, stumbling over stones, thinking that every shadow is a monster, and in the end standing in front of a closed door or being dragged back to the children's house.”¹¹

It is not just recent dreams of collectivism that are subverted by kin solidarity. The journalist Ferdinand Mount has documented that the family has been a subversive institution throughout history. Family ties cut across the bonds connecting comrades and brethren and thus are a nuisance to governments, cults, gangs, revolutionary movements, and established religions. But even a thinker as sympathetic to human nature as Noam Chomsky does not acknowledge that people feel differently about their children from how they feel about acquaintances and strangers. Here is an excerpt of an interview with the lead guitarist of the rap metal group Rage Against the Machine:

rage: Another unquestionable idea is that people are naturally competitive, and that therefore, capitalism is the only proper way to organize society. Do you agree?

chomsky: Look around you. In a family for example, if the parents are hungry do they steal food from the children? They would if they were competitive. In most social groupings that are even semi-sane people support each other and are sympathetic and helpful and care about other people and so on. Those are normal human emotions. It takes plenty of training to drive those feelings out of people's heads, and they show up all over the place.¹²  {247} 

Unless people treat other members of society the way they treat their own children, the answer is a non sequitur: people could care deeply about their children but feel differently about the millions of other people who make up society. The very framing of the question and answer assumes that humans are competitive or sympathetic across the board, rather than having different emotions toward people with whom they have different genetic relationships.

Chomsky implies that people are born with fraternal feelings toward their social groups and that the feelings are driven out of their heads by training. But it seems to be the other way around. Throughout history, when leaders have tried to unite a social group they have trained their members to think of it as a family and to redirect their familial emotions inside it.¹³ The names used by groups that strive for solidarity — brethren, brotherhoods, fraternal organizations, sisterhood, sororities, crime families, the family of man — concede in their metaphors that kinship is the paradigm to which they aspire. (No society tries to strengthen the family by likening it to a trade union, political party, or church group.) The tactic is provably effective. Several experiments have shown that people are more convinced by a political speech if the speaker appeals to their hearts and minds with kinship metaphors.¹⁴

Verbal metaphors are one way to nudge people to treat acquaintances like family, but usually stronger tactics are needed. In his ethnographic survey, Alan Fiske showed that the ethos of Communal Sharing (one of his four universal social relations) arises spontaneously among the members of a family but is extended to other groups only with the help of elaborate customs and ideologies.¹⁵ Unrelated people who want to share like a family create mythologies about a common flesh and blood, a shared ancestry, and a mystical bond to a territory (tellingly called a natal land, fatherland, motherland, or mother country). They reinforce the myths with sacramental meals, blood sacrifices, and repetitive rituals, which submerge the self into the group and create an impression of a single organism rather than a federation of individuals. Their religions speak of possession by spirits and other kinds of mind melds, which, according to Fiske, “suggest that people may often want to have more intense or pure Communal Sharing relationships than they are able to realize with ordinary human beings.”¹⁶ The dark side of this cohesion is groupthink, a cult mentality, and myths of racial purity — the sense that outsiders are contaminants who pollute the sanctity of the group.

None of this means that nonrelatives are ruthlessly competitive toward one another, only that they are not as spontaneously cooperative as kin. And ironically, for all this talk of solidarity and sympathy and common blood, we shall soon see that families are not such harmonious units either.

~

Tolstoy's famous remark that happy families are all alike but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way is not true at the level of ultimate  {248}  (evolutionary) causation. Trivers showed how the seeds of unhappiness in every family have the same underlying source.¹⁷ Though relatives have common interests because of their common genes, the degree of overlap is not identical within all the permutations and combinations of family members. Parents are related to all of their offspring by an equal factor, 50 percent, but each child is related to himself or herself by a factor of 100 percent. And that has a subtle but profound implication for the currency of family life, parents’ investment in their children.

Parental investment is a limited resource. A day has only twenty-four hours, short-term memory can hold only four chunks of information, and, as many a frazzled mother has pointed out, “I only have two hands!” At one end of the lifespan, children learn that a mother cannot pump out an unlimited stream of milk; at the other, they learn that parents do not leave behind infinite inheritances.

To the extent that emotions among people reflect their typical genetic relatedness, Trivers argued, the members of a family should disagree on how parental investment should be divvied up. Parents should want to split their investment equitably among the children — if not in absolutely equal parts, then according to each child's ability to prosper from the investment. But each child should to want the parent to dole out twice as much of the investment to himself or herself as to a sibling, because children share half their genes with each full sibling but share all their genes with themselves. Given a family with two children and one pie, each child should want to split it in a ratio of two-thirds to one-third, while parents should want it to be split fifty-fifty. The result is that no distribution will make everyone happy. Of course, it's not that parents and children literally fight over pie or milk or inheritances (though they may), and they certainly don't fight over genes. In our evolutionary history, parental investment affected a child's survival, which affected the probability that the genes for various familial emotions in parents and in children would have been passed on to us today. The prediction is that family members’ expectations of one another are not perfectly in sync.

Parent-offspring conflict and its obverse, sibling-sibling conflict, can be seen throughout the animal kingdom.¹⁸ Littermates or nestmates fight among themselves, sometimes lethally, and fight with their mothers over access to milk, food, and care. (As Woody Allen's character in AntZ pointed out, “When you're the middle child in a family of five million, you don't get much attention.”) The conflict also plays out in the physiology of prenatal human development. Fetuses tap their mothers’ bloodstreams to mine the most nutrients possible from her body, while the mother's body resists to keep it in good shape for future children.¹⁹ And it continues to play itself out after birth. Until recently, in most cultures, mothers who had poor prospects for sustaining a  {249}  newborn to maturity cut their losses and abandoned it to die.²⁰ The fat cheeks and precocious responsiveness in a baby's face may be an advertisement of health designed to tilt the decision in its favor.²¹

But the most interesting conflicts are the psychological ones, played out in family dramas. Trivers touted the liberatory nature of sociobiology by invoking an “underlying symmetry in our social relationships” and “submerged actors in the social world.”²² He was referring to women, as we will see in the chapter on gender, and to children. The theory of parent-offspring conflict says that families do not contain all-powerful, all-knowing parents and their passive, grateful children. Natural selection should have equipped children with psychological tactics allowing them to hold their own in a struggle with their parents, with neither party having a permanent upper hand. Parents have a short-lived advantage in sheer brawn, but children can fight back by being cute, whining, throwing tantrums, pulling guilt trips, tormenting their siblings, getting between their parents, and holding themselves hostage with the threat of self-destructive behavior.²³ As they say, insanity is hereditary: you get it from your children.

Most profoundly, children do not allow their personalities to be shaped by their parents’ nagging, blandishments, or attempts to serve as role models.²⁴ As we shall see in the chapter on children, the effect of being raised by a given pair of parents within a culture is surprisingly small: children who grow up in the same home end up no more alike in personality than children who were separated at birth; adopted siblings grow up to be no more similar than strangers. The findings flatly contradict the predictions of every theory in the history of psychology but one. Trivers alone had predicted:

The offspring cannot rely on its parents for disinterested guidance. One expects the offspring to be preprogrammed to resist some parental manipulation while being open to other forms. When the parent imposes an arbitrary system of reinforcement (punishment and reward) in order to manipulate the offspring to act against its own best interests, selection will favor offspring that resist such schedules of reinforcement.²⁵

That children don't turn out the way their parents want is, for many people, one of the bittersweet lessons of parenthood. “Your children are not your children,” wrote the poet Kahlil Gibran. “You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts.”²⁶

The most obvious prediction of the theory of parent-offspring conflict is that parents and siblings should all have different perceptions of how the parents treated the siblings. Indeed, studies of the grown members of families show that most parents claim they treated their children equitably, while a  {250}  majority of siblings claim they did not get their fair share.²⁷ Researchers call it the Smothers Brothers effect, after the comedy pair whose duller member had the signature line “Mom always liked you best.”

But the logic of parent-offspring conflict does not apply only to contemporaneous siblings. Offspring of any age tacitly compete against the unborn descendants that parents might have if they were ceded the time and energy. Since men can always father children (especially in the polygynous systems that until recently characterized most societies), and since both sexes can lavish investment on grandchildren, potential conflicts of interest between parents and offspring hang over them for life. When parents arrange a marriage, they may cut a deal that sacrifices a child's interest for future considerations benefiting a sibling or the father. Children and adults may hold different opinions on whether a child should stick around to help the family or strike out on his or her own reproductive career. Married children have to decide how to allocate time and energy between the nuclear family they have created and the extended family they were born into. Parents have to decide whether to distribute their resources in equal parts or to the child who can make the best use of them.

The logic of parent-offspring and sibling-sibling conflict casts a new light on the doctrine of “family values” that is prominent in the contemporary religious and cultural right. According to this doctrine, the family is a haven of nurturance and benevolence, allowing parents to convey values to children that best serve their interests. Modern cultural forces, by allowing women to spend less time with young children and by expanding the world of older children beyond the family circle, have supposedly thrown a grenade into this nest, harming children and society alike. Part of this theory is surely accurate; parents and other relatives have a stronger interest in the well-being of a child than any third party does. But parent-offspring conflict implies that there is more to the picture.

If one could ask young children what they want, it would undoubtedly be the undivided attention of their mothers twenty-four hours a day. But that does not mean that nonstop mothering is the biological norm. The need to find a balance between investing in an offspring and staying healthy (ultimately to invest in other offspring) is inherent to all living things. Human mothers are no exception, and often have to resist the demands of their pint-sized tyrants so as not to compromise their own survival and the survival of their other born and unborn children. The anthropologist Sarah Blaffer Hrdy has shown that the tradeoff between working and mothering was not invented by power-suited Yuppies of the 1980s. Women in foraging societies use a variety of arrangements to raise their children without starving in the process, including seeking status within the group (which improves the children's well-being) and sharing childcare duties with other women in the band. Fathers, of course, are usually the main providers other than the mother herself,  {251}  but they have bad habits like dying, deserting, and not making a living, and mothers have never depended on them alone.²⁸

The weakening of parents’ hold over their older children is also not just a recent casualty of destructive forces. It is part of a long-running expansion of freedom in the West that has granted children their always-present desire for more autonomy than parents are willing to cede. In traditional societies, children were shackled to the family's land, betrothed in arranged marriages, and under the thumb of the family patriarch.²⁹ That began to change in medieval Europe, and some historians argue it was the first steppingstone in the extension of rights that we associate with the Enlightenment and that culminated in the abolition of feudalism and slavery.³⁰ Today it is no doubt true that some children are led astray by a bad crowd or popular culture. But some children are rescued from abusive or manipulative families by peers, neighbors, and teachers. Many children have profited from laws, such as compulsory schooling and the ban on forced marriages, that may override the preferences of their parents. Some may profit from information, such as about contraception or careers, that their parents try to withhold. And some must escape a stifling cultural ghetto to discover the cosmopolitan delights of the modern world. Isaac Bashevis Singer's novel Shosha begins with a reminiscence of the protagonist's childhood in the Jewish section of Warsaw at the beginning of the twentieth century:

I was brought up on three dead languages — Hebrew, Aramaic, and Yiddish ... — and in a culture that developed in Babylon: the Talmud. The cheder [schoolroom] where I studied was a room in which the teacher ate and slept, and his wife cooked. There I studied not arithmetic, geography, physics, chemistry, or history, but the laws governing an egg laid on a holiday and sacrifices in a temple destroyed two thousand years ago. Although my ancestors had settled in Poland some six or seven hundred years before I was born, I knew only a few words of the Polish language.... I was an anachronism in every way, but I didn't know it.

Singer's reminiscence is more nostalgic than bitter, and of course most families offer far more nurturance than repression or strife. At the proximate level, Tolstoy was surely right that there are happy and unhappy families and that unhappy families are unhappy in different ways, depending on the chemistry of the people thrown together by genetics and fate. The conflict inherent to families does not make family ties any less central to human existence. It only implies that the balancing of competing interests that governs all human interactions does not end at the door of the family home.

~

Among the combinations of people that Trivers considered is the pair consisting of a man and a woman. The logic of their relationship is rooted in  {252}  the most fundamental difference between the sexes: not their chromosomes, not their plumbing, but their parental investment.³¹ In mammals, the minimal parental investments of a male and a female differ dramatically. A male can get away with a few minutes of copulation and a tablespoon of semen, but a female carries an offspring for months inside her body and nourishes it before and after it is born. As they say of the respective contributions of the chicken and the pig to eggs and bacon, the first is involved, but the second is committed. Since it takes one member of each sex to make a baby, access to females is the limiting resource for males in reproduction. For a male to maximize the number of his descendants, he should mate with as many females as possible; for a female to maximize the number of her descendants, she should mate with the best-quality male available. This explains the two widespread sex differences in many species in the animal kingdom: males compete, females choose; males seek quantity, females quality.

Humans are mammals, and our sexual behavior is consistent with our Linnaean class. Donald Symons sums up the ethnographic record on sex differences in sexuality: “Among all peoples it is primarily men who court, woo, proposition, seduce, employ love charms and love magic, give gifts in exchange for sex, and use the services of prostitutes.”³² Among Western peoples, studies have shown that men seek a greater number of sexual partners than women, are less picky in their choice of a short-term partner, and are far more likely to be customers for visual pornography.³³ But the male of Homo sapiens differs from the male of most other mammals in a crucial way: men invest in their offspring rather than leaving all the investing to the female. Though deprived of organs that can siphon nutrients directly into his children, a man can help them indirectly by feeding, protecting, teaching, and nurturing them. The minimum investments of a man and a woman are still unequal, because a child can be born to a single mother whose husband has fled but not to a single father whose wife has fled. But the investment of the man is greater than zero, which means that women are also predicted to compete in the mate market, though they should compete over the males most likely to invest (and the males with the highest genetic quality) rather than the males most willing to mate.

The genetic economics of sex also predicts that both sexes have a genetic incentive to commit adultery, though for partly different reasons. A philandering man can have additional offspring by impregnating women other than his wife. A philandering woman can have better offspring by conceiving a child by a man with better genes than her husband while having her husband around to help nurture the child. But when a wife gets the best of both worlds from her affair, the husband gets the worst of both worlds, because he is investing in another man's genes that have usurped the place of his own. We thus get the flip side of the evolution of fatherly feelings: the evolution of male sexual jealousy, designed to prevent his wife from having another man's child.  {253}  Women's jealousy is tilted more toward preventing the alienation of a man's affections, a sign of his willingness to invest in another woman's children at the expense of her own.³⁴

The biological tragedy of the sexes is that the genetic interests of a man and a woman can be so close that they almost count as a single organism, but the possibilities for their interests to diverge are never far away. The biologist Richard Alexander points out that if a couple marry for life, are perfectly monogamous, and favor their nuclear family above each spouse's extended family, their genetic interests are identical, tied up in the single basket containing their children.³⁵ Under that idealization, the love between a man and a woman should be the strongest emotional bond in the living world — “two hearts beating as one” — and of course for some lucky couples it is. Unfortunately, the ifs in the deduction are big ifs. The power of nepotism means that spouses are always being tugged apart by in-laws and, if there are any, by stepchildren. And the incentives of adultery mean that spouses can always be tugged apart by cuckolds and home-wreckers. It is no surprise to an evolutionary biologist that infidelity, stepchildren, and in-laws are among the main causes of marital strife.

Nor is it a surprise that the act of love itself should be fraught with conflict. Sex is the most concentrated source of physical pleasure granted by our nervous system, so why is it such an emotional bramble bush? In all societies, sex is at least somewhat “dirty.” It is conducted in private, pondered obsessively, regulated by custom and taboo, the subject of gossip and teasing, and a trigger for jealous rage.³⁶ For a brief period in the 1960s and 1970s people dreamed of an erotopia in which men and women could engage in sex without hang-ups and inhibitions. The protagonist of Erica Jong's Fear of Flying fantasized about “the zipless fuck”: anonymous, casual, and free of guilt and jealousy. “If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with,” sang Stephen Stills. “If you love somebody, set them free,” sang Sting.

But Sting also sang, “Every move you make, I'll be watching you.” And Isadora Wing concluded that fastener-free copulation is “rarer than the unicorn.” Even in a time when seemingly anything goes, most people do not partake in sex as casually as they partake in food or conversation. That includes today's college campuses, which are reportedly hotbeds of the brief sexual encounters known as “hooking up.” The psychologist Elizabeth Paul sums up her research on the phenomenon: “Casual sex is not casual. Very few people are coming out unscathed.”³⁷ The reasons are as deep as anything in biology. One of the hazards of sex is a baby, and a baby is not just any seven-pound object but, from an evolutionary point of view, our reason for being. Every time a woman has sex with a man she is taking a chance at sentencing herself to years of motherhood, with the additional gamble that the whims of her partner could make it single motherhood. She is committing a chunk of her finite  {254}  reproductive output to the genes and intentions of that man, forgoing the opportunity to use it with some other man who may have better endowments of either or both. The man, for his part, may be either implicitly committing his sweat and toil to the incipient child or deceiving his partner about such intentions.

And that covers only the immediate participants. As Jong lamented elsewhere, there are never just two people in bed. They are always accompanied in their minds by parents, former lovers, and real and imagined rivals. In other words, third parties have an interest in the possible outcome of a sexual liaison. The romantic rivals of the man or woman, who are being cuckolded or rendered celibate or bereft by their act of love, have reasons to want to be in their places. The interests of third parties help us understand why sex is almost universally conducted in private. Symons points out that because a man's reproductive success is strictly limited by his access to women, in the minds of men sex is always a rare commodity. People may have sex in private for the same reason that people during a famine eat in private: to avoid inciting dangerous envy.³⁸

As if the bed weren't crowded enough, every child of a man and a woman is also the grandchild of two other men and two other women. Parents take an interest in their children's reproduction because in the long run it is their reproduction too. Worse, the preciousness of female reproductive capacity makes it a valuable resource for the men who control her in traditional patriarchal societies, namely her father and brothers. They can trade a daughter or sister for additional wives or resources for themselves, and thus they have an interest in protecting their investment by keeping her from becoming pregnant by men other than the ones they want to sell her to. It is not just the husband or boyfriend who takes a proprietary interest in a woman's sexual activity, then, but also her father and brothers.³⁹ Westerners were horrified by the treatment of women under the regime of the Taliban in Afghanistan from 1995 to 2001, when women were cloaked in burqas and forbidden to work, attend school, and leave their homes unaccompanied. Wilson and Daly have shown that laws and customs with the same intent — giving men control over their wives’ and daughters’ sexuality — have been common throughout history and in many societies, including our own.⁴⁰ Many a father of a teenage girl has had the fleeting thought that the burqa is not such a bad idea after all.

On strictly rational grounds, the volatility of sex is a paradox, because in an era with contraception and women's rights these archaic entanglements should have no claim on our feelings. We should be ziplessly loving the one we're with, and sex should inspire no more gossip, music, fiction, raunchy humor, or strong emotions than eating or talking does. The fact that people are tormented by the Darwinian economics of babies they are no longer having is testimony to the long reach of human nature.  {255} 

~

What about people who are not tied by blood or children? No one doubts that human beings make sacrifices for people who are unrelated to them. But they could do so in two different ways.

Humans, like ants, could have a gung-ho superorganism thing that prompts them to do everything for the colony. The idea that people are instinctively communal is an important precept of the romantic doctrine of the Noble Savage. It figured in the theory of Engels and Marx that “primitive communism” was the first social system, in the anarchism of Peter Kropotkin (who wrote, “The ants and termites have renounced the ‘Hobbesian war,’ and they are the better for it”), in the family-of-man utopianism of the 1960s, and in the writings of contemporary radical scientists such as Lewontin and Chomsky.⁴¹ Some radical scientists imagine that the only alternative is an Ayn Randian individualism in which every man is an island. Steven Rose and the sociologist Hilary Rose, for instance, call evolutionary psychology a “right-wing libertarian attack on collectivity.”⁴² But the accusation is factually incorrect — as we shall see in the chapter on politics, many evolutionary psychologists are on the political left — and it is conceptually incorrect. The real alternative to romantic collectivism is not “right-wing libertarianism” but a recognition that social generosity comes from a complex suite of thoughts and emotions rooted in the logic of reciprocity. That gives it a very different psychology from the communal sharing practiced by social insects, human families, and cults that try to pretend they are families.⁴³

Trivers built on arguments by Williams and Hamilton that pure, public-minded altruism — a desire to benefit the group or species at the expense of the self — is unlikely to evolve among nonrelatives, because it is vulnerable to invasion by cheaters who prosper by enjoying the good deeds of others without contributing in turn. But as I mentioned, Trivers also showed that a measured reciprocal altruism can evolve. Reciprocators who help others who have helped them, and who shun or punish others who have failed to help them, will enjoy the benefits of gains in trade and outcompete individualists, cheaters, and pure altruists.⁴⁴ Humans are well equipped for the demands of reciprocal altruism. They remember each other as individuals (perhaps with the help of dedicated regions of the brain), and have an eagle eye and a flypaper memory for cheaters.⁴⁵ They feel moralistic emotions — liking, sympathy, gratitude, guilt, shame, and anger — that are uncanny implementations of the strategies for reciprocal altruism in computer simulations and mathematical models. Experiments have confirmed the prediction that people are most inclined to help a stranger when they can do so at low cost, when the stranger is in need, and when the stranger is in a position to reciprocate.⁴⁶ They like people who grant them favors, grant favors to those they like, feel guilty when they have withheld a possible favor, and punish those who withhold favors from them.⁴⁷  {256} 

An ethos of reciprocity can pilot not just one-on-one exchanges but contributions to the public good, such as hunting animals that are too large for the hunter to eat himself, building a lighthouse that keeps everyone's ships off the rocks, or banding together to invade neighbors or to repel their invasions. The inherent problem with public goods is captured in Aesop's fable “Who Will Bell the Cat?” The mice in a household agree they would be better off if the cat had a bell around its neck to warn them of its approach, but no mouse will risk life and limb to attach the bell. A willingness to bell the cat — that is, to contribute to the public good — can nonetheless evolve, if it is accompanied by a willingness to reward those who shoulder the burden or to punish the cheaters who shirk it.⁴⁸

The tragedy of reciprocal altruism is that sacrifices on behalf of nonrelatives cannot survive without a web of disagreeable emotions like anxiety, mistrust, guilt, shame, and anger. As the journalist Matt Ridley puts it in his survey of the evolution of cooperation:

Reciprocity hangs, like a sword of Damocles, over every human head. He's only asking me to his party so I'll give his book a good review. They've been to dinner twice and never asked us back once. After all I did for him, how could he do that to me? If you do this for me, I promise I'll make it up later. What did I do to deserve that? You owe it to me. Obligation; debt; favour; bargain; contract; exchange; deal.... Our language and our lives are permeated with ideas of reciprocity.⁴⁹

Studies of altruism by behavioral economists have thrown a spotlight on this sword of Damocles by showing that people are neither the amoral egoists of classical economic theory nor the all-for-one-and-one-for-all communalists of Utopian fantasies. In the Ultimatum Game, for example, one participant gets a large sum of money to divide between himself and another participant, and the second one can take it or leave it. If he leaves it, neither side gets anything. A selfish proposer would keep the lion's share; a selfish respondent would accept the remaining crumbs, no matter how small, because part of a loaf is better than none. In reality the proposer tends to offer almost half of the total sum, and the respondent doesn't settle for much less than half, even though turning down a smaller share is an act of spite that deprives both participants. The respondent seems to be driven by a sense of righteous anger and punishes a selfish proposer accordingly; the proposer anticipates this and makes an offer that is just generous enough to be accepted. We know that the proposer's generosity is driven by the fear of a spiteful response because of the outcome of two variants of the experiment. In the Dictator game, the proposer simply divides the sum between the two players and there is nothing the respondent can do about it. With no fear of reprisal, the proposer makes a far  {257}  stingier offer. The offer still tends to be more generous than it has to be, because the proposer worries about getting a reputation for stinginess that could come back to bite him in the long run. We know this because of the outcome of the Double-Blind Dictator game, where proposals from many players are sealed and neither the respondent nor the experimenter knows who offered how much. In this variant, generosity plummets; a majority of the proposers keep everything for themselves.⁵⁰

And then there is the Public Good game, in which everyone makes a voluntary contribution to a common pot of money, the experimenter doubles it, and the pot is divided evenly among the participants regardless of what they contributed. The optimal strategy for each player acting individually is to be a free rider and contribute nothing, hoping that others will contribute something and he can get a share of their contribution. Of course, if every player thinks that way, the pot stays empty and no one earns a dime. The optimum for the group is for all the players to contribute everything they have so they can all double their money. When the game is played repeatedly, however, everyone tries to become a free rider, and the pot dwindles to a self-defeating zero. On the other hand, if people are allowed both to contribute to the pot and to levy fines on those who don't contribute, conscience doth make cowards of them all, and almost everyone contributes to the common good, allowing everyone to make a profit.⁵¹ The same phenomenon has been independently documented by social psychologists, who call it “social loafing.” When people are part of a group, they pull less hard on a rope, clap less enthusiastically, and think up fewer ideas in a brainstorming session — unless they think their contributions to the group effort are being monitored.⁵²

These experiments may be artificial, but the motives they expose played themselves out in the real-life experiments known as Utopian communities. In the nineteenth century and early decades of the twentieth, self-contained communes based on a philosophy of communal sharing sprang up throughout the United States. All of them collapsed from internal tensions, the ones guided by socialist ideology after a median of two years, the ones guided by religious ideology after a median of twenty years.⁵³ The Israeli kibbutzim, originally galvanized by socialism and Zionism, steadily dismantled their collectivist philosophy over the decades. It was undermined by their members’ desire to live with their families, to own their own clothing, and to keep small luxuries or sums of money acquired outside the kibbutz. And the kibbutzim were dragged down by inefficiencies because of the free-rider problem — they were, in the words of one kibbutznik, a “paradise for parasites.”⁵⁴

In other cultures, too, generosity is doled out according to a complex mental calculus. Remember Fiske's ethnographic survey, which shows that the ethic of Communal Sharing arises spontaneously mainly within families (and on circumscribed occasions such as feasts). Equality Matching — that is,  {258}  reciprocal altruism — is the norm for everyday interactions among more distant relatives and nonrelatives.⁵⁵ A possible exception is the distribution of meat by bands of foragers, who pool the risks of hunting large game (with its big but unpredictable windfalls) by sharing their catch.⁵⁶ Even here, the ethic is far from unstinting generosity, and the sharing is described as having “an edge of hostility.”⁵⁷ Hunters generally have no easy way of keeping their catch from others, so they don't so much share their catch as stand by while others confiscate it. Their hunting effort is treated as a public good, and they are punished by gossip and ostracism if they resist the confiscation, are rewarded by prestige (which earns them sexual partners) if they tolerate it, and may be entitled to payback when the tables turn. A similar psychology may be found among the last hunter-gatherers in our own culture, commercial fishermen. In The Perfect Storm, Sebastian Junger writes:

Sword[fish] boat captains help each other out on the high seas whenever they can; they lend engine parts, offer technical advice, donate food or fuel. The competition between a dozen boats rushing a perishable commodity to market fortunately doesn't kill an inherent sense of concern for each other. This may seem terrifically noble, but it's not — or at least not entirely. It's also self-interested. Each captain knows that he may be the next one with the frozen injector or the leaking hydraulics.⁵⁸

Beginning with Ashley Montagu in 1952, thinkers with collectivist sympathies have tried to eke out a place for unmeasured generosity by invoking group selection, a Darwinian competition among groups of organisms rather than among individual organisms.⁵⁹ The hope is that groups whose members sacrifice their interests for the common good will outcompete those in which every man is for himself, and as a result generous impulses will come to prevail in the species. Williams dashed the dream in 1966 when he pointed out that unless a group is genetically fixed and hermetically sealed, mutants or immigrants constantly infiltrate it.⁶⁰ A selfish infiltrator would soon take over the group with its descendants, who are more numerous because they have reaped the advantages of others’ sacrifices without making their own. This would happen long before the group could parlay its internal cohesion into victory over neighboring groups and bud off new offspring groups to repeat the process.

The term “group selection” survives in evolutionary biology, but usually with different meanings from the one Montagu had in mind. Groups were certainly part of our evolutionary environment, and our ancestors evolved traits, such as a concern with one's reputation, that led them to prosper in groups. Sometimes the interests of an individual and the interests of a group can coincide; for example, both do better when the group is not exterminated by enemies. Some theorists invoke group selection to explain a willingness to punish  {259}  free riders who do not contribute to the public good.⁶¹ The biologist David Sloan Wilson and the philosopher Elliot Sober recently redefined “group” as a set of mutual reciprocators, providing an alternative language in which to describe Trivers's theory but not an alternative to the theory itself.⁶² But no one believes the original idea that selection among groups led to the evolution of unstinting self-sacrifice. Even putting aside the theoretical difficulties explained by Williams, we know empirically that people in all cultures do things that lead them to prosper at the expense of their group, such as lying, competing for mates, having affairs, getting jealous, and fighting for dominance.

Group selection, in any case, does not deserve its feel-good reputation. Whether or not it endowed us with generosity toward the members of our group, it would certainly have endowed us with a hatred of the members of other groups, because it favors whatever traits lead one group to prevail over its rivals. (Recall that group selection was the version of Darwinism that got twisted into Nazism.) This does not mean that group selection is incorrect, only that subscribing to a scientific theory for its apparent political palatability can backfire. As Williams put it, “To claim that [natural selection at the level of competing groups] is morally superior to natural selection at the level of competing individuals would imply, in its human application, that systematic genocide is morally superior to random murder.”⁶³

~

People do more for their fellows than return favors and punish cheaters. They often perform generous acts without the slightest hope for payback, ranging from leaving a tip in a restaurant they will never visit again to throwing themselves on a live grenade to save their brothers in arms. Trivers, together with the economists Robert Frank and Jack Hirshleifer, has pointed out that pure magnanimity can evolve in an environment of people seeking to discriminate fair-weather friends from loyal allies.⁶⁴ Signs of heartfelt loyalty and generosity serve as guarantors of one's promises, reducing a partner's worry that you will default on them. The best way to convince a skeptic that you are trustworthy and generous is to be trustworthy and generous.

Of course, such virtue cannot be the dominant mode of human interaction or else we could dispense with the gargantuan apparatus designed to keep exchanges fair — money, cash registers, banks, accounting firms, billing departments, courts — and base our economy on the honor system. At the other extreme, people also commit acts of outright treachery, including larceny, fraud, extortion, murder, and other ways of taking a benefit at someone else's expense. Psychopaths, who lack all traces of a conscience, are the most extreme example, but social psychologists have documented what they call Machiavellian traits in many individuals who fall short of outright psychopathy.⁶⁵ Most people, of course, are in the middle of the range, displaying mixtures of reciprocity, pure generosity, and greed.  {260} 

Why do people range across such a wide spectrum? Perhaps all of us are capable of being saints or sinners, depending on the temptations and threats at hand. Perhaps we are set on one of these paths early in life by our upbringing or by the mores of our peer group. Perhaps we choose these paths early in life because we are endowed with a deck of conditional strategies on how to develop a personality: if you discover that you are attractive and charming, try being a manipulator; if you are large and commanding, try being a bully; if you are surrounded by generous people, be generous in kind; and so on. Perhaps we are predisposed to being nastier or nicer by our genes. Perhaps human development is a lottery, and fate assigns us a personality at random. Most likely, our differences come from several of these forces or from hybrids among them. For example, we may all develop a sense of generosity if enough of our friends and neighbors are generous, but the threshold or the multiplier of that function may differ among us genetically or at random: some people need only a few nice neighbors to grow up nice, others need a majority.

Genes are certainly a factor. Conscientiousness, agreeableness, neuroticism, psychopathy, and criminal behavior are substantially (though by no means completely) heritable, and altruism may be as well.⁶⁶ But this only replaces the original question — Why do people vary in their selfishness? — with another one. Natural selection tends to make the members of a species alike in their adaptive traits, because whichever version of a trait is better than the others will be selected and the alternative versions will die out. That is why most evolutionary psychologists attribute systematic differences among people to their environments and attribute only random differences to the genes. This genetic noise can come from at least two sources. Inside the genome, rust never sleeps: random mutations constantly creep in and are only slowly and unevenly eliminated by selection.⁶⁷ And selection can favor molecular variability for its own sake to keep us one step ahead of the parasites that constantly evolve to infiltrate our cells and tissues. Differences in the functioning of whole bodies and brains could be a by-product of this churning of protein sequences.⁶⁸

But the theory of reciprocal altruism raises another possibility: that some of the genetic differences among people in their social emotions are systematic. One exception to the rule that selection reduces variability arises when the best strategy depends on what other organisms are doing. The child's game of scissors-paper-rock is one analogy, and another may be found in the decision of which route to take to work. As commuters begin to avoid a congested highway and opt for a less traveled route, the new one will no longer be less traveled, so many will choose the first one, until congestion builds up there, which will induce still other commuters to choose the second route, and so on. The commuters will eventually distribute themselves in some ratio between the two roads. The same thing can happen in evolution, where it is called frequency-dependent selection.  {261} 

One corollary of reciprocal altruism, shown in a number of simulations, is that frequency-dependent selection can produce temporary or permanent mixtures of strategies. For example, even if reciprocators predominate in a population, a minority of cheaters can sometimes survive, taking advantage of the generosity of the reciprocators as long as they don't grow so numerous as to meet other cheaters too often or to be recognized and punished by the reciprocators. Whether the population ends up homogeneous or with a mixture of strategies depends on which strategies are competing, which start off more numerous, howeasily they enter and leave the population, and the payoffs for cooperation and defection.⁶⁹

We have an intriguing parallel. In the real world, people differ genetically in their selfish tendencies. And in models of the evolution of altruism, actors may evolve differences in their selfish tendencies. It could be a coincidence, but it probably is not. Several biologists have adduced evidence that psychopathy is a cheating strategy that evolved by frequency-dependent selection.⁷⁰ Statistical analyses show that a psychopath, rather than merely falling at the end of a continuum for one or two traits, has a distinct cluster of traits (superficial charm, impulsivity, irresponsibility, callousness, guiltlessness, mendacity, and exploitiveness) that sets him off from the rest of the population.⁷¹ And many psychopaths show none of the subtle physical abnormalities produced by biological noise, suggesting that psychopathy is not always a biological mistake.⁷² The psychologist Linda Mealey has argued that frequency-dependent selection has produced at least two kinds of psychopaths. One kind consists of people who are genetically predisposed to psychopathy regardless of how they grow up. The other kind is made up of people who are predisposed to psychopathy only in certain circumstances, namely when they perceive themselves to be competitively disadvantaged in society and find themselves at home in a group of other antisocial peers.

The possibility that some individuals are born with a weak conscience runs squarely against the doctrine of the Noble Savage. It calls to mind the old-fashioned notions of born criminals and bad seeds, and it was blotted out by twentieth-century intellectuals and replaced with the belief that all wrongdoers are victims of poverty or bad parenting. In the late 1970s Norman Mailer received a letter from a prisoner named Jack Henry Abbott, who had spent most of his life behind bars for crimes ranging from passing bad checks to killing a fellow prisoner. Mailer was writing a book about the murderer Gary Gilmore, and Abbott offered to help him get into the mindset of a killer by sharing his prison diaries and his radical critique of the criminal justice system. Mailer was dazzled by Abbott's prose and proclaimed him to be a brilliant new writer and thinker — “an intellectual, a radical, a potential leader, a man obsessed with a vision of more elevated human relations in a better world that revolution could forge.” He arranged for Abbott's letters to be published  {262}  in the New York Review of Books and then as a 1980 book, In the Belly of the Beast. Here is an excerpt, in which Abbott describes what it is like to stab someone to death:

You can feel his life trembling through the knife in your hand. It almost overcomes you, the gentleness of the feeling at the center of a coarse act of murder.... You go to the floor with him to finish him. It is like cutting hot butter, no resistance at all. They always whisper one thing at the end: “Please.” You get the odd impression he is not imploring you not to harm him, but to do it right.

Over the objections of prison psychiatrists who saw that Abbott had psychopath written all over his face, Mailer and other New York literati helped him win an early parole. Abbott was soon feted at literary dinners, likened to Solzhenitsyn and Jacobo Timerman, and interviewed on Good Morning America and in People magazine. Two weeks later he got into an argument with an aspiring young playwright who was working as a waiter in a restaurant and had asked Abbott not to use the employees’ restroom. Abbott asked him to step outside, stabbed him in the chest, and left him to bleed to death on the sidewalk.⁷³

Psychopaths can be clever and charming, and Mailer was only the latest in a series of intellectuals from all over the political spectrum who were conned in the 1960s and 1970s. In 1973 William F. Buckley helped win the early release of Edgar Smith, a man who had been convicted of molesting a fifteen-year-old cheerleader and crushing her head with a rock. Smith won his freedom in exchange for confessing to the crime, and then, as Buckley was interviewing him on his national television program, he recanted the confession. Three years later he was arrested for beating another young woman with a rock, and he is now serving a life sentence for attempted murder.⁷⁴

Not everyone was conned. The comedian Richard Pryor described his experience at the Arizona State Penitentiary during the filming of Stir Crazy:

It made my heart ache, you know, to see all these beautiful black men in the joint. Goddam; the warriors should be out there helping the masses. I felt that way, I was real naïve. Six weeks I was up there and I talked to the brothers. I talked to ‘em, and... [Looks around, frightened] ... Thank God we got penitentiaries! I asked one, “Why did you kill everybody in the house?” He says, “They was home.” ... I met one dude, kidnap-murdered four times. And I thought, three times, that was your last, right? I says, “What happened?” [Answers in falsetto] “I can't get this shit right! But I'm getting paroled in two years.”  {263} 

Pryor was not, of course, denying the inequities that continue to put disproportionate numbers of African Americans in prison. He was only contrasting the common sense of ordinary people with the romanticism of intellectuals — and perhaps exposing their condescending attitude that poor people can't be expected to refrain from murder, and that they should not be alarmed by the murderers in their midst.

The romantic notion that all malefactors are depraved on accounta they're deprived has worn thin among experts and laypeople alike. Many psychopaths had difficult lives, of course, but that does not mean that having a difficult life turns one into a psychopath. There is an old joke about two social workers discussing a problematic child: “Johnny came from a broken home.” “Yes, Johnny could break any home.” Machiavellian personalities can be found in all social classes — there are kleptocrats, robber barons, military dictators, and rogue financiers — and some psychopaths, such as the cannibal Jeffrey Dahmer, have come from decent, upper-middle-class homes. And none of this means that all people who resort to violence or crime are psychopaths, only that some of the worst ones are.

Psychopaths, as far as we know, cannot be “cured.” Indeed, the psychologist Marnie Rice has shown that certain harebrained ideas for therapy, such as boosting their self-esteem and teaching them social skills, can make them even more dangerous.⁷⁵ But that does not mean there is nothing we can do about them. For example, Mealey shows that of the two kinds of psychopaths she distinguished, inveterate psychopaths are unmoved by programs that try to get them to appreciate the harm they do, but they may be responsive to surer punishments that induce them to behave more responsibly out of sheer self-interest. Conditional psychopaths, on the other hand, may respond better to social changes that prevent them from slipping through society's cracks. Whether or not these are the best prescriptions, they are examples of how science and policy might come to grips with a problem that many intellectuals tried to wish away in the twentieth century but that has long been a concern of religion, philosophy, and fiction: the existence of evil.

~

According to Trivers, every human relationship — our ties to our parents, siblings, romantic partners, and friends and neighbors — has a distinct psychology forged by a pattern of converging and diverging interests. What about the relationship that is, according to the pop song, “the greatest love of all” — the relationship with the self? In a pithy and now-famous passage, Trivers wrote:

If... deceit is fundamental to animal communication, then there must be strong selection to spot deception and this ought, in turn, to select for  {264}  a degree of self-deception, rendering some facts and motives unconscious so as not to betray — by the subtle signs of self-knowledge — the deception being practiced. Thus, the conventional view that natural selection favors nervous systems which produce ever more accurate images of the world must be a very naïve view of mental evolution.⁷⁶

The conventional view may be largely correct when it comes to the physical world, which allows for reality checks by multiple observers and where misconceptions are likely to harm the perceiver. But as Trivers notes, it may not be correct when it comes to the self, which one can access in a way that others cannot and where misconceptions may be helpful. Sometimes parents may want to convince a child that what they are doing is for the child's own good, children may want to convince parents that they are needy rather than greedy, lovers may want to convince each other that they will always be true, and unrelated folks may want to convince one another that they are worthy cooperators. These opinions are often embellishments, if not tall tales, and to slip them beneath a partner's radar a speaker should believe in them so as not to stammer, sweat, or trip himself up in contradictions. Ice-veined liars might, of course, get away with telling bald fibs to strangers, but they would also have trouble keeping friends, who could never take their promises seriously. The price of looking credible is being unable to lie with a straight face, and that means a part of the mind must be designed to believe its own propaganda — while another part registers just enough truth to keep the self-concept in touch with reality.

The theory of self-deception was foreshadowed by the sociologist Erving Goffman in his 1959 book The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, which disputed the romantic notion that behind the masks we show other people is the one true self. No, said Goffman; it's masks all the way down. Many discoveries in the ensuing decades have borne him out.⁷⁷

Though modern psychologists and psychiatrists tend to reject orthodox Freudian theory, many acknowledge that Freud was right about the defense mechanisms of the ego. Any therapist will tell you that people protest too much, deny or repress unpleasant facts, project their flaws onto others, turn their discomfort into abstract intellectual problems, distract themselves with time-consuming activities, and rationalize away their motives. The psychiatrists Randolph Nesse and Alan Lloyd have argued that these habits do not safeguard the self against bizarre sexual wishes and fears (like having sex with one's mother) but are tactics of self-deception: they suppress evidence that we are not as beneficent or competent as we would like to think.⁷⁸ As Jeff Goldblum said in The Big Chill, “Rationalizations are more important than sex.” When his friends demurred, he asked, “Have you ever gone a week without a rationalization?”  {265} 

As we saw in Chapter 3, when a person suffers neurological damage, the healthy parts of the brain engage in extraordinary confabulations to explain away the foibles caused by the damaged parts (which are invisible to the self because they are part of the self) and to present the whole person as a capable, rational actor. A patient who fails to experience a visceral click of recognition when he sees his wife, but who acknowledges that she looks and acts just like his wife, may deduce that an amazing impostor is living in his house. A patient who believes she is at home and is shown the hospital elevator may say without missing a beat, “You wouldn't believe what it cost us to have that installed.”⁷⁹ After the Supreme Court justice William O. Douglas suffered a stroke that left him paralyzed on one side and confined to a wheelchair, he invited reporters on a hike and told them he wanted to try out for the Washington Redskins. He was soon forced to step down when he refused to acknowledge that anything was wrong with his judgment.⁸⁰

In social psychology experiments, people consistently overrate their own skill, honesty, generosity, and autonomy. They overestimate their contribution to a joint effort, chalk up their successes to skill and their failures to luck, and always feel that the other side has gotten the better deal in a compromise.⁸¹ People keep up these self-serving illusions even when they are wired to what they think is an accurate lie-detector. This shows that they are not lying to the experimenter but lying to themselves. For decades every psychology student has learned about “cognitive dissonance reduction,” in which people change whatever opinion it takes to maintain a positive self-image.⁸² The cartoonist Scott Adams illustrates it well:

If the cartoon were completely accurate, though, life would be a cacophony of spoinks.

Self-deception is among the deepest roots of human strife and folly. It implies that the faculties that ought to allow us to settle our differences — seeking the truth and discussing it rationally — are miscalibrated so that all parties assess themselves to be wiser, abler, and nobler than they really are. Each party to a dispute can sincerely believe that the logic and evidence are on his side and  {266}  that his opponent is deluded or dishonest or both.⁸³ Self-deception is one of the reasons that the moral sense can, paradoxically, often do more harm than good, a human misfortune we will explore in the next chapter.

~

The many roots of our suffering illuminated by Trivers are not a cause for lamentations and wailings. The genetic overlaps that unite and divide us are tragic not in the everyday sense of a catastrophe but in the dramatic sense of a stimulus that encourages us to ponder our condition. According to a definition in the Cambridge Encyclopedia, “The fundamental purpose of tragedy... was claimed by Aristotle to be the awakening of pity and fear, of a sense of wonder and awe at the human potential, including the potential for suffering; it makes an assertion of human value in the face of a hostile universe.” Trivers's accounts of the inherent conflicts within families, couples, societies, and the self can reinforce that purpose.

Nature may have played a cruel trick by slightly mistuning the emotions of people who share their flesh and blood, but in doing so she provided steady work for generations of authors and playwrights. Endless are the dramatic possibilities inherent in the fact that two people can be bound by the strongest emotional bonds in the living world and at the same time not always want the best for each other. Aristotle was perhaps the first to note that tragic narratives focus on family relations. A story about two strangers who fight to the death, he pointed out, is nowhere near as interesting as a story about two brothers who fight to the death. Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau, Oedipus and Laius, Michael and Fredo, JR and Bobby, Frasier and Niles, Joseph and his brothers, Lear and his daughters, Hannah and her sisters ... As cataloguers of dramatic plots have noted for centuries, “enmity of kinsmen” and “rivalry of kinsmen” are enduring formulas.⁸⁴

In his book Antigones, the literary critic George Steiner showed that the Antigone legend has a singular place in Western literature. Antigone was the daughter of Oedipus and Jocasta, but the fact that her father was her brother and her sister was her mother was only the beginning of her family troubles. In defiance of King Creon, she buried her slain brother Polynices, and when the king found out, he ordered her buried alive. She cheated him by killing herself first, whereupon the king's son, who was madly in love with her and unable to get her a pardon, killed himself on her grave. Steiner observes that Antigone is widely considered “not only the finest of the Greek tragedies, but a work of art nearer to perfection than any other produced by the human spirit.”⁸⁵ It has been performed for more than two millennia and has inspired countless variations and spinoffs. Steiner explains its enduring resonance:

It has, I believe, been given to only one literary text to express all the principal constants of conflict in the condition of man. These constants are  {267}  fivefold: the confrontation of men and of women; of age and of youth; of society, and of the individual; of the living and the dead; of men and of god(s). The conflicts which come of these five orders of confrontation are not negotiable. Men and women, old and young, the individual and the community or state, the quick and the dead, mortals and immortals, define themselves in the confiictual process of defining each other.⁸⁶... Because Greek myths encode certain primary biological and social confrontations and self-perceptions in the history of man, they endure as an animate legacy in collective memory and recognition.⁸⁷

The bittersweet process of defining ourselves by our conflicts with others is not just a subject for literature but can illuminate the nature of our emotions and the content of our consciousness. If a genie offered us the choice between belonging to a species that could achieve perfect egalitarianism and solidarity and belonging to a species like ours in which relationships with parents, siblings, and children are uniquely precious, it is not so clear that we would choose the former. Our close relatives have a special place in our hearts only because the place for every other human being, by definition, is less special, and we have seen that many social injustices fall out of that bargain. So, too, is social friction a product of our individuality and of our pursuit of happiness. We may envy the harmony of an ant colony, but when Woody Allen's alter ego Z complained to his psychiatrist that he felt insignificant, the psychiatrist replied, “You've made a real breakthrough, Z. You are insignificant.”

Donald Symons has argued that we have genetic conflict to thank for the fact that we have feelings toward other people at all.⁸⁸ Consciousness is a manifestation of the neural computations necessary to figure out how to get the rare and unpredictable things we need. We feel hunger, savor food, and have a palate for countless fascinating tastes because food was hard to get during most of our evolutionary history. We don't normally feel longing, delight, or fascination regarding oxygen, even though it is crucial for survival, because it was never hard to obtain. We just breathe.

The same may be true of conflicts over kin, mates, and friends. I mentioned that if a couple were guaranteed to be faithful, to favor each other over their kin, and to die at the same time, their genetic interests would be identical, wrapped up in their common children. One can even imagine a species in which every couple was marooned on an island for life and their offspring dispersed at maturity, never to return. Since the genetic interests of the two mates are identical, one might at first think that evolution would endow them with a blissful perfection of sexual, romantic, and companionate love.

But, Symons argues, nothing of the sort would happen. The relation between the mates would evolve to be like the relation among the cells of a single body, whose genetic interests are also identical. Heart cells and lung cells don't  {268}  have to fall in love to get along in perfect harmony. Likewise, the couples in this species would have sex only for the purpose of procreation (why waste energy?), and sex would bring no more pleasure than the rest of reproductive physiology such as the release of hormones or the formation of the gametes:

There would be no falling in love, because there would be no alternative mates to choose among, and falling in love would be a huge waste. You would literally love your mate as yourself, but that's the point: you don't really love yourself, except metaphorically; you are yourself. The two of you would be, as far as evolution is concerned, one flesh, and your relationship would be governed by mindless physiology.... You might feel pain if you observed your mate cut herself, but all the feelings we have about our mates that make a relationship so wonderful when it is working well (and so painful when it is not) would never evolve. Even if a species had them when they took up this way of life, they would be selected out as surely as the eyes of a cave-dwelling fish are selected out, because they would be all cost and no benefit.⁸⁹

The same is true for our emotions toward family and friends: the richness and intensity of the feelings in our minds are proof of the preciousness and fragility of those bonds in life. In short, without the possibility of suffering, what we would have is not harmonious bliss, but rather, no consciousness at all.

Chapter 15

The Sanctimonious Animal

One of the deepest fears people have of a biological understanding of the mind is that it would lead to moral nihilism. If we are not created by God for a higher purpose, say the critics on the right, or if we are products of selfish genes, say the critics on the left, then what would prevent us from becoming amoral egoists who look out only for number one? Wouldn't we have to see ourselves as venal mercenaries who cannot be expected to care for the less fortunate? Both sides point to Nazism as the outcome of accepting biological theories of human nature.

The preceding chapter showed that this fear is misplaced. Nothing prevents the godless and amoral process of natural selection from evolving a big-brained social species equipped with an elaborate moral sense.¹ Indeed, the problem with Homo sapiens may not be that we have too little morality. The problem may be that we have too much.

What leads people to deem an action immoral (“Killing is wrong”) as opposed to disliked (“I hate broccoli”), unfashionable (“Don't wear stripes with plaids”), or imprudent (“Avoid wine on long flights”)? People feel that moral rules are universal. Injunctions against murder and rape, for example, are not matters of taste or fashion but have a transcendent and universal warrant. People feel that others who commit immoral acts ought to be punished: not only is it right to inflict harm on people who have committed a moral infraction, it is wrong not to, that is, to “let them get away with it.” One can easily say, “I don't like broccoli, but I don't care if you eat it,” but no one would say, “I don't like killing, but I don't care if you murder someone.” That is why pro-choice advocates are missing the point when they say, in the words of the bumper sticker, “If you're against abortion, don't have one.” If someone believes abortion is immoral, then allowing other people to engage in it is not an option, any more than allowing people to rape or murder is an option. People therefore feel justified in invoking divine retribution or the coercive power of the state to enact  {270}  the punishments. Bertrand Russell wrote, “The infliction of cruelty with a good conscience is a delight to moralists — that is why they invented hell.”

Our moral sense licenses aggression against others as a way to prevent or punish immoral acts. That is fine when the act deemed immoral truly is immoral by any standard, such as rape and murder, and when the aggression is meted out fairly and serves as a deterrent. The point of this chapter is that the human moral sense is not guaranteed to pick out those acts as the targets of its righteous indignation. The moral sense is a gadget, like stereo vision or intuitions about number. It is an assembly of neural circuits cobbled together from older parts of the primate brain and shaped by natural selection to do a job. That does not mean that morality is a figment of our imagination, any more than the evolution of depth perception means that 3-D space is a figment of our imagination. (As we saw in Chapters 9 and 11, morality has an internal logic, and possibly even an external reality, that a community of reflective thinkers may elucidate, just as a community of mathematicians can elucidate truths about number and shape.) But it does mean that the moral sense is laden with quirks and prone to systematic error — moral illusions, as it were — just like our other faculties.

Consider this story:

Julie and Mark are brother and sister. They are traveling together in France on summer vacation from college. One night they are staying alone in a cabin near the beach. They decide that it would be interesting and fun if they tried making love. At the very least it would be a new experience for each of them. Julie was already taking birth control pills, but Mark uses a condom too, just to be safe. They both enjoy making love, but they decide not to do it again. They keep the night as a special secret, which makes them feel even closer to each other. What do you think about that; was it OK for them to make love?

The psychologist Jonathan Haidt and his colleagues have presented the story to many people.² Most immediately declare that what Julie and Mark did was wrong, and then they grope for reasons why it was wrong. They mention the dangers of inbreeding, but they are reminded that the siblings used two forms of contraception. They suggest that Julie and Mark will be emotionally hurt, but the story makes it clear that they were not. They venture that the act would offend the community, but then they recall that it was kept secret. They submit that it might interfere with future relationships, but they acknowledge that Julie and Mark agreed never to do it again. Eventually many of the respondents admit, “I don't know, I can't explain it, I just know it's wrong.” Haidt calls this “moral dumbfounding” and has evoked it by other disagreeable but victimless scenarios:  {271} 

A woman is cleaning out her closet, and she finds her old American flag. She doesn't want the flag anymore, so she cuts it up into pieces and uses the rags to clean her bathroom.

A family's dog was killed by a car in front of their house. They had heard that dog meat was delicious, so they cut up the dog's body and cooked it and ate it for dinner.

A man goes to the supermarket once a week and buys a dead chicken. But before cooking the chicken, he has sexual intercourse with it. Then he cooks it and eats it.

Many moral philosophers would say that there is nothing wrong with these acts, because private acts among consenting adults that do not harm other sentient beings are not immoral. Some might criticize the acts using a more subtle argument having to do with commitments to policies, but the infractions would still be deemed minor compared with the truly heinous acts of which people are capable. But for everyone else, such argumentation is beside the point. People have gut feelings that give them emphatic moral convictions, and they struggle to rationalize the convictions after the fact.³ These convictions may have little to do with moral judgments that one could justify to others in terms of their effects on happiness or suffering. They arise instead from the neurobiological and evolutionary design of the organs we call moral emotions.

~

Haidt has recently compiled a natural history of the emotions making up the moral sense.⁴ The four major families are just what we would expect from Trivers's theory of reciprocal altruism and the computer models of the evolution of cooperation that followed. The other-condemning emotions — contempt, anger, and disgust — prompt one to punish cheaters. The other-praising emotions — gratitude and an emotion that may be called elevation, moral awe, or being moved — prompt one to reward altruists. The other-suffering emotions — sympathy, compassion, and empathy — prompt one to help a needy beneficiary. And the self-conscious emotions — guilt, shame, and embarrassment — prompt one to avoid cheating or to repair its effects.

Cutting across these sets of emotions we find a distinction among three spheres of morality, each of which frames moral judgments in a different way. The ethic of autonomy pertains to an individual's interests and rights. It emphasizes fairness as the cardinal virtue, and is the core of morality as it is understood by secular educated people in Western cultures. The ethic of community pertains to the mores of the social group; it includes values like duty, respect, adherence to convention, and deference to a hierarchy. The ethic of divinity pertains to a sense of exalted purity and holiness, which is opposed to a sense of contamination and defilement.  {272} 

The autonomy-community-divinity trichotomy was first developed by the anthropologist Richard Shweder, who noted that non-Western traditions have rich systems of beliefs and values with all the hallmarks of moralizing but without the Western concept of individual rights.⁵ The elaborate Hindu beliefs surrounding purification are a prime example. Haidt and the psychologist Paul Rozin have built on Shweder's work, but they have interpreted the moral spheres not as arbitrary cultural variants but as universal mental faculties with different evolutionary origins and functions.⁶ They show that the moral spheres differ in their cognitive content, their homologues in other animals, their physiological correlates, and their neural underpinnings.

Anger, for example, which is the other-condemning emotion in the sphere of autonomy, evolved from systems for aggression and was recruited to implement the cheater-punishment strategy demanded by reciprocal altruism. Disgust, the other-condemning emotion in the sphere of divinity, evolved from a system for avoiding biological contaminants like disease and spoilage. It may have been recruited to demarcate the moral circle that divides entities that we engage morally (such as peers) from those we treat instrumentally (such as animals) and those we actively avoid (such as people with a contagious disease). Embarrassment, the self-conscious emotion in the sphere of community, is a dead ringer for the gestures of appeasement and submission found in other primates. The reason that dominance got melded with morality in the first place is that reciprocity depends not only on a person's willingness to grant and return favors but on that person's ability to do so, and dominant people have that ability.

Relativists might interpret the three spheres of morality as showing that individual rights are a parochial Western custom and that we should respect other cultures’ ethics of community and divinity as equally valid alternatives. I conclude instead that the design of the moral sense leaves people in all cultures vulnerable to confusing defensible moral judgments with irrelevant passions and prejudices. The ethic of autonomy or fairness is in fact not uniquelv Western; Amartya Sen and the legal scholar Mary Ann Glendon have shown that it also has deep roots in Asian thought.⁷ Conversely, the ethic of community and the ethic of divinity are pervasive in the West. The ethic of community, which equates morality with a conformity to local norms, underlies the cultural relativism that has become boilerplate on college campuses. Several scholars have noticed that their students are unequipped to explain why Nazism was wrong, because the students feel it is impermissible to criticize the values of another culture.⁸ (I can confirm that students today reflexively hedge their moral judgments, saying things like, “Our society puts a high value on being good to other people.”) Donald Symons comments on the way that  {273}  people's judgments can do a backflip when they switch from autonomy– to community-based morality:

If only one person in the world held down a terrified, struggling, screaming little girl, cut off her genitals with a septic blade, and sewed her back up, leaving only a tiny hole for urine and menstrual flow, the only question would be how severely that person should be punished, and whether the death penalty would be a sufficiently severe sanction. But when millions of people do this, instead of the enormity being magnified millions-fold, suddenly it becomes “culture,” and thereby magically becomes less, rather than more, horrible, and is even defended by some Western “moral thinkers,” including feminists.⁹

The ethic of community also includes a deference to an established hierarchy, and the mind (including the Western mind) all too easily conflates prestige with morality. We see it in words that implicitly equate status with virtue — chivalrous, classy, gentlemanly, honorable, noble — and low rank with sin — low-class, low-rent, mean, nasty, shabby, shoddy, villain (originally meaning “peasant”), vulgar. The Myth of the Noble Noble is obvious in contemporary celebrity worship. Members of the royalty like Princess Diana and her American equivalent, John E Kennedy Jr., are awarded the trappings of sainthood even though they were morally unexceptional people (yes, Diana supported charities, but that's pretty much the job description of a princess in this day and age). Their good looks brighten their halos even more, because people judge attractive men and women to be more virtuous.¹⁰ Prince Charles, who also supports charities, will never be awarded the trappings of sainthood, even if he dies a tragic death.

People also confuse morality with purity, even in the secular West. Remember from Chapter 1 that many words for cleanliness and dirt are also words for virtue and sin pure, unblemished, tainted, and so on). Haidt's subjects seem to have conflated contamination with sin when they condemned eating a dog, having sex with a dead chicken, and enjoying consensual incest (which reflects our instinctive repulsion toward sex with siblings, an emotion that evolved to deter inbreeding).

The mental mix-up of the good and the clean can have ugly consequences. Racism and sexism are often expressed as a desire to avoid pollutants, as in the ostracism of the “untouchable” caste in India, the sequestering of menstruating women in Orthodox Judaism, the fear of contracting AIDS from casual contact with gay men, the segregated facilities for eating, drinking, bathing, and sleeping under the Jim Crow and apartheid policies, and the “racial hygiene” laws in Nazi Germany. One of the haunting questions of  {274}  twentieth-century history is how so many ordinary people committed wartime atrocities. The philosopher Jonathan Glover has documented that a common denominator is degradation: a diminution of the victim's status or cleanliness or both. When someone strips a person of dignity by making jokes about his suffering, giving him a humiliating appearance (a dunce cap, awkward prison garb, a crudely shaved head), or forcing him to live in filthy conditions, ordinary people's compassion can evaporate and they find it easy to treat him like an animal or object.¹¹

The peculiar mixture of fairness, status, and purity constituting the moral sense should make us suspicious of appeals to raw sentiment in resolving difficult moral issues. In an influential essay called “The Wisdom of Repugnance,” Leon Kass (now the chair of George W. Bush's Council on Bioethics) argued that we should abandon moral reasoning when it comes to cloning and go with our gut feelings:

We are repelled by the prospect of cloning human beings not because of the strangeness or novelty of the undertaking, but because we intuit and feel, immediately and without argument, the violation of things that we rightfully hold dear. Repugnance, here as elsewhere, revolts against the excesses of human willfulness, warning us not to transgress what is unspeakably profound. Indeed, in this age in which everything is held to be permissible so long as it is freely done, in which our given human nature no longer commands respect, in which our bodies are regarded as mere instruments of our autonomous rational wills, repugnance may be the only voice left that speaks up to defend the central core of our humanity. Shallow are the souls that have forgotten how to shudder.¹²

There may be good arguments against human cloning, but the shudder test is not one of them. People have shuddered at all kinds of morally irrelevant violations of standards of purity in their culture: touching an untouchable, drinking from the same water fountain as a person of color, allowing Jewish blood to mix with Aryan blood, tolerating sodomy between consenting men. As recently as 1978, many people (including Kass) shuddered at the new technology of in vitro fertilization, or, as it was then called, “test-tube babies.” But now it is morally unexceptionable and, for hundreds of thousands of people, a source of immeasurable happiness or of life itself.

The difference between a defensible moral position and an atavistic gut feeling is that with the former we can give reasons why our conviction is valid. We can explain why torture and murder and rape are wrong, or why we should oppose discrimination and injustice. On the other hand, no good reasons can be produced to show why homosexuality should be suppressed or why the races should be segregated. And the good reasons for a moral position are not  {275}  pulled out of thin air: they always have to do with what makes people better off or worse off, and are grounded in the logic that we have to treat other people in the way that we demand they treat us.

~

Another strange feature of the moral emotions is that they can be turned on and off like a switch. These mental spoinks are called moralization and amoralization, and have recently been studied in the lab by Rozin.¹³ They consist in flipping between a mindset that judges behavior in terms of preference with a mindset that judges behavior in terms of value.

There are two kinds of vegetarians: those who avoid meat for health reasons, namely reducing dietary fat and toxins, and those who avoid meat for moral reasons, namely respecting the rights of animals. Rozin has shown that compared with health vegetarians, moral vegetarians offer more reasons for their meat avoidance, have a greater emotional reaction to meat, and are more likely to treat it as a contaminant — they refuse, for example, to eat a bowl of soup into which a drop of meat broth has fallen. Moral vegetarians are more likely to think that other people should be vegetarians, and they are more likely to invest their dietary habit with bizarre virtues, like believing that meat eating makes people more aggressive and animalistic. But it is not just vegetarians who associate eating habits with moral value. When college students are given descriptions of people and asked to rate their character, they judge that a person who eats cheeseburgers and milkshakes is less nice and considerate than a person who eats chicken and salad!

Rozin notes that smoking has recently been moralized. For many years the decision of whether to smoke was treated as a matter of preference or prudence: some people simply didn't enjoy smoking or avoided it because it was hazardous to their health. But with the discovery of the harmful effects of secondhand smoke, smoking is now treated as an immoral act. Smokers are banished and demonized, and the psychology of disgust and contamination is brought into play. Nonsmokers avoid not just smoke but anything that has ever been in contact with smoke: in hotels, they demand smoke-free rooms or even smoke-free floors. Similarly, the desire for retribution has been awakened: juries have slapped tobacco companies with staggering financial penalties, appropriately called “punitive damages.” This is not to say that these decisions are unjustified, only that we should be aware of the emotions that may be driving them.

At the same time, many behaviors have been amoralized, switching (in the eyes of many people) from moral flaws to lifestyle choices. The amoralized acts include divorce, illegitimacy, working motherhood, marijuana use, homosexuality, masturbation, sodomy, oral sex, atheism, and any practice of a non-Western culture. Similarly, many afflictions have been reassigned from the wages of sin to the vagaries of bad luck and have been redubbed accordingly.  {276}  The homeless used to be called bums and tramps; sexually transmitted diseases were formerly known as venereal diseases. Most of the professionals who work with drug addiction insist that it is not a bad choice but a kind of illness. To the cultural right, all this shows that morality has been under assault from the cultural elite, as we see in the sect that calls itself the Moral Majority. To the left, it shows that the desire to stigmatize private behavior is archaic and repressive, as in H. L. Mencken's definition of Puritanism as “the haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy.” Both sides are wrong. As if to compensate for all the behaviors that have been amoralized in recent decades, we are in the midst of a campaign to moralize new ones. The Babbitts and the bluenoses have been replaced by the activists for a nanny state and the college towns with a foreign policy, but the psychology of moralization is the same. Here are some examples of things that have acquired a moral coloring only recently:

advertising to children • automobile safety • Barbie dolls • “big box” chain stores • cheesecake photos • clothing from Third World factories • consumer product safety • corporate-owned farms • defense-funded research • disposable diapers • disposable packaging • ethnic jokes • executive salaries • fast food • flirtation in the workplace • food additives • fur • hydroelectric dams • IQ tests • logging • mining • nuclear power • oil drilling • owning certain stocks • poultry farms • public holidays (Columbus Day, Martin Luther King Day) • research on AIDS • research on breast cancer • spanking • suburbia (“sprawl”) • sugar • tax cuts • toy guns • violence on television • weight of fashion models

Many of these things can have harmful consequences, of course, and no one would want them trivialized. The question is whether they are best handled by the psychology of moralization (with its search for villains, elevation of accusers, and mobilization of authority to mete out punishment) or in terms of costs and benefits, prudence and risk, or good and bad taste. Pollution, for example, is often treated as a crime of defiling the sacred, as in the song by the rock group Traffic: “Why don't we ... try to save this land, and make a promise not to hurt again this holy ground.” This can be contrasted with the attitude of economists like Robert Frank, who (alluding to the costs of cleanups) said, “There is an optimal amount of pollution in the environment, just as there is an optimal amount of dirt in your house.”

Moreover, all human activities have consequences, often with various degrees of benefit and harm to different parties, but not all of them are conceived as immoral. We don't show contempt to the man who fails to change the batteries in his smoke alarms, takes his family on a driving vacation (multiplying their risk of accidental death), or moves to a rural area (increasing pollution  {277}  and fuel use in commuting and shopping). Driving a gas-guzzling SUV is seen as morally dubious, but driving a gas-guzzling Volvo is not; eating a Big Mac is suspect, but eating imported cheese or tiramisu is not. Becoming aware of the psychology of moralization need not make us morally obtuse. On the contrary, it can alert us to the possibility that a decision to treat an act in terms of virtue and sin as opposed to cost and benefit has been made on morally irrelevant grounds — in particular, whether the saints and sinners would be in one's own coalition or someone else's. Much of what is today called “social criticism” consists of members of the upper classes denouncing the tastes of the lower classes (bawdy entertainment, fast food, plentiful consumer goods) while considering themselves egalitarians.

~

There is another bit of moral psychology that is commonly associated with primitive thinking but is alive and well in modern minds: concepts of the sacred and the taboo. Some values are considered not just worthy but sacrosanct. They have infinite or transcendental worth, trumping all other considerations. One is not permitted even to think of trading them off against other values, because the very thought is self-evidently sinful and deserves only condemnation and outrage.

The psychologist Philip Tetlock elicited the psychology of the sacred and the taboo in the students of American universities.¹⁴ He asked them whether people should be allowed to buy and sell organs for transplantation, auction licenses to adopt orphans, pay for the right to become a citizen, sell their vote in an election, or pay someone to serve in their stead in prison or the military. Not surprisingly, most of the students thought that the practices were unethical and should be outlawed. But their responses went well beyond disagreement: they were outraged that anyone would consider legalizing these practices, were insulted to have been asked, and wanted to punish anyone who tolerated them. When they were asked to justify their opinion, all they could say was that the practices were “degrading, dehumanizing, and unacceptable.” The students even sought to cleanse themselves by volunteering to campaign against a (fictitious) movement to legalize the auctioning of adoption rights. Their outrage was reduced a bit, but was still potent, after hearing arguments in favor of the taboo policies, such as that a market in orphans would put more children in loving homes and that lower-income people would be given vouchers to participate.

Another study asked about a hospital administrator who had to decide whether to spend a million dollars on a liver transplant for a child or use it on other hospital needs. (Administrators implicitly face this kind of choice all the time, because there are lifesaving procedures that are astronomically expensive and cannot be carried out on everyone who needs them.) Not only did respondents want to punish an administrator who chose to spend the money on  {278}  the hospital, they wanted to punish an administrator who chose to save the child but thought for a long time before making the decision (like the frugal comedian Jack Benny when a mugger said, “Your money or your life”).

The taboo on thinking about core values is not totally irrational. We judge people not just on what they do but on what they are — not just on whether someone has given more than he has taken, but on whether he is the kind of person who would sell you down the river or knife you in the back if it were ever in his interests to do so. To determine whether someone is emotionally committed to a relationship, guaranteeing the veracity of his promises, one should ascertain how he thinks: whether he holds your interests sacred or constantly weighs them against the profits to be made by selling you out. The notion of character joins the moral picture, and with it the notion of moral identity: the concept of one's own character that is maintained internally and projected to others.

Tetlock points out that it is in the very nature of our commitments to other people to deny that we can put a price on them: “To transgress these normative boundaries, to attach a monetary value to one's friendships or one's children or one's loyalty to one's country, is to disqualify oneself from certain societal roles, to demonstrate that one just ‘doesn't get it’ — one does not understand what it means to be a true friend or parent or citizen.”¹⁵ Taboo tradeoffs, which pit a sacred value against a secular one (such as money), are “morally corrosive: the longer one contemplates indecent proposals, the more irreparably one compromises one's moral identity.”¹⁶

Unfortunately, a psychology that treats some desiderata as having infinite value can lead to absurdities. Tetlock reviews some examples. The Delaney Clause of the Food and Drug Act of 1958 sought to improve public health by banning all new food additives for which there was any risk of carcinogenicity. That sounded good but wasn't. The policy left people exposed to more dangerous food additives that were already on the market, it created an incentive for manufacturers to introduce new dangerous additives as long as they were not carcinogenic, and it outlawed products that could have saved more lives than they put at risk, such as the saccharin used by diabetics. Similarly after the discovery of hazardous waste at the Love Canal in 1978, Congress passed the Superfund Act, which required the complete cleanup of all hazardous waste sites. It turned out to cost millions of dollars to clean up the last 10 percent of the waste at a given site — money that could have been spent on cleaning up other sites or reducing other health risks. So the lavish fund went bankrupt before even a fraction of its sites could be decontaminated, and its effect on Americans’ health was debatable. After the Exxon Valdez oil spill, four-fifths of the respondents in one poll said that the country should pursue greater environmental protection “regardless of cost.” Taken literally, that meant they were prepared to shut down all schools, hospitals, and police and  {279}  fire stations, stop funding social programs, medical research, foreign aid, and national defense, or raise the income tax rate to 99 percent, if that is what it would have cost to protect the environment.

Tetlock observes that these fiascoes came about because any politician who honestly presented the inexorable tradeoffs would be crucified for violating a taboo. He would be guilty of “tolerating poisons in our food and water,” or worse, “putting a dollar value on human life.” Policy analysts note that we are stuck with wasteful and inegalitarian entitlement programs because any politician who tried to reform them would be committing political suicide. Savvy opponents would frame the reform in the language of taboo: “breaking our faith with the elderly,” “betraying the sacred trust of veterans who risked their lives for their country,” “scrimping on the care and education of the young.”

In the Preface, I called the Blank Slate a sacred doctrine and human nature a modern taboo. This can now be stated as a technical hypothesis. The thrust of the radical science movement was to moralize the scientific study of the mind and to engage the mentality of taboo. Recall, from Part II, the indignant outrage, the punishment of heretics, the refusal to consider claims as they were actually stated, the moral cleansing through demonstrations and manifestos and public denunciations. Weizenbaum condemned ideas “whose very contemplation ought to give rise to feelings of disgust” and denounced the less-than-human scientists who “can even think of such a thing.” But of course it is the job of scholars to think about things, even if only to make it clear why they are wrong. Moralization and scholarship thus often find themselves on a collision course.

~

This ruthless dissection of the human moral sense does not mean that morality is a sham or that every moralist is a self-righteous prig. Moral psychology may be steeped in emotion, but then many philosophers have argued that morality cannot be grounded in reason alone anyway. As Hume wrote, “ ‘Tis not contrary to reason to prefer the destruction of the whole world to the scratching of my finger.”¹⁷ The emotions of sympathy, gratitude, and guilt are the source of innumerable acts of kindness great and small, and a measured righteous anger and ethical certitude must have sustained great moral leaders throughout history.

Glover notes that many twentieth-century atrocities were set in motion when the moral emotions were disabled. Decent people were lulled into committing appalling acts by a variety of amoralizing causes, such as Utopian ideologies, phased decisions (in which the targets of bombing might shift from isolated factories to factories near neighborhoods to the neighborhoods themselves), and the diffusion of responsibility within a bureaucracy. It was often raw moral sentiment — feeling empathy for victims, or asking oneself the moral-identity question “Am I the kind of person who could do this?” — that  {280}  stopped people in mid-atrocity. The moral sense, amplified and extended by reasoning and a knowledge of history, is what stands between us and a Mad Max nightmare of ruthless psychopaths.

But there is still much to be wary of in human moralizing: the confusion of morality with status and purity, the temptation to overmoralize matters of judgment and thereby license aggression against those with whom we disagree, the taboos on thinking about unavoidable tradeoffs, and the ubiquitous vice of self-deception, which always manages to put the self on the side of the angels. Hitler was a moralist (indeed, a moral vegetarian) who, by most accounts, was convinced of the rectitude of his cause. As the historian Ian Buruma wrote, “This shows once again that true believers can be more dangerous than cynical operators. The latter might cut a deal; the former have to go to the end — and drag the world down with them.”¹⁸

HOT BUTTONS

S

ome debates are so entwined with people's moral identity that one might despair that they can ever be resolved by reason and evidence. Social psychologists have found that with divisive moral issues, especially those on which liberals and conservatives disagree, all combatants are intuitively certain they are correct and that their opponents have ugly ulterior motives. They argue out of respect for the social convention that one should always provide reasons for one's opinions, but when an argument is refuted, they don't change their minds but work harder to find a replacement argument. Moral debates, far from resolving hostilities, can escalate them, because when people on the other side don't immediately capitulate, it only proves they are impervious to reason.¹

Nowhere is this more obvious than in the topics I will explore in this part of the book. People's opinions on politics, violence, gender, children, and the arts help define the kind of person they think they are and the kind of person they want to be. They prove that the person is opposed to oppression, violence, sexism, philistinism, and the abuse or neglect of children. Unfortunately, folded into these opinions are assumptions about the psychological makeup of Homo sapiens. Conscientious people may thus find themselves unwittingly staked to positions on empirical questions in biology or psychology. When scientific facts come in they rarely conform exactly to our expectations; if they did, we would not have to do science in the first place. So when facts tip over a sacred cow, people are tempted to suppress the facts and to clamp down on debate because the facts threaten everything they hold sacred. And this can leave us unequipped to deal with just those problems for which new facts and analyses are most needed.

The landscape of the sciences of human nature is strewn with these third rails, hot zones, black holes, and Chernobyls. I have picked five of them to explore in the next few chapters, while necessarily leaving out many others (for instance, race, sexual orientation, education, drug abuse, and mental illness).  {282}  Social psychologists have discovered that even in heated ideological battles, common ground can sometimes be found.² Each side must acknowledge that the other is arguing out of principle, too, and that they both share certain values and disagree only over which to emphasize in cases where they conflict. Finding such common ground is my goal in the discussions to follow.

Chapter 16

Politics

Gilbert and Sullivan got it mostly right in 1882: liberal and conservative political attitudes are largely, though far from completely, heritable. When identical twins who were separated at birth are tested in adulthood, their political attitudes turn out to be similar, with a correlation coefficient of .62 (on a scale from –1 to +1).² Liberal and conservative attitudes are heritable not, of course, because attitudes are synthesized directly from DNA but because they come naturally to people with different temperaments. Conservatives, for example, tend to be more authoritarian, conscientious, traditional, and rule-bound. But whatever its immediate source, the heritability of political attitudes can explain some of the sparks that fly when liberals and conservatives meet. When it comes to attitudes that are heritable, people react more quickly and emotionally, are less likely to change their minds, and are more attracted to like-minded people.³

Liberalism and conservatism have not just genetic roots, of course, but historical and intellectual ones. The two political philosophies were articulated in the eighteenth century in terms that would be familiar to readers of the editorial pages today, and their foundations can be traced back millennia to the political controversies of ancient Greece. During the past three centuries, many revolutions and uprisings were fought over these philosophies, as are the major elections in modern democracies.

This chapter is about the intellectual connections between the sciences of human nature and the political rift between right-wing and left-wing political  {284}  philosophies. The connection is not a secret. As philosophers have long noted, the two sides are not just political belief systems but empirical ones, rooted in different conceptions of human nature. Small wonder that the sciences of human nature have been so explosive. Evolutionary psychology, behavioral genetics, and some parts of cognitive neuroscience are widely seen as falling on the political right, which in a modern university is about the worst thing you can say about something. No one can make sense of the controversies surrounding mind, brain, genes, and evolution without understanding their alignment with ancient political fault lines. E. O. Wilson learned this too late:

I had been blindsided by the attack [on Sociobiology]. Having expected some frontal fire from social scientists on primarily evidential grounds, I had received instead a political enfilade from the flank. A few observers were surprised that I was surprised. John Maynard Smith, a senior British evolutionary biologist and former Marxist, said that he disliked the last chapter of Sociobiology himself and “it was also absolutely obvious to me — I cannot believe Wilson didn't know — that this was going to provoke great hostility from American Marxists, and Marxists everywhere.” But it was true.... In 1975 I was a political naif: I knew almost nothing about Marxism as either a political belief or a mode of analysis, I had paid little attention to the dynamism of the activist left, and I had never heard of Science for the People. I was not even an intellectual in the European or New York-Cambridge sense.⁴

As we shall see, the new sciences of human nature really do resonate with assumptions that historically were closer to the right than to the left. But today the alignments are not as predictable. The accusation that these sciences are irredeemably conservative comes from the Left Pole, the mythical place from which all directions are right. The political associations of a belief in human nature now crosscut the liberal-conservative dimension, and many political theorists invoke evolution and genetics to argue for policies on the left.

~

The sciences of human nature are pressing on two political hot buttons, not just one. The first is how we conceptualize the entity known as “society.” The political philosopher Roger Masters has shown how sociobiology (and related theories invoking evolution, genetics, and brain science) inadvertently took sides in an ancient dispute between two traditions of understanding the social order.⁵

In the sociological tradition, a society is a cohesive organic entity and its individual citizens are mere parts. People are thought to be social by their very nature and to function as constituents of a larger superorganism. This is the tradition of Plato, Hegel, Marx, Durkheim, Weber, Kroeber, the sociologist  {285}  Talcott Parsons, the anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss, and postmodernism in the humanities and social sciences.

In the economic or social contract tradition, society is an arrangement negotiated by rational, self-interested individuals. Society emerges when people agree to sacrifice some of their autonomy in exchange for security from the depredations of others wielding their autonomy. It is the tradition of Thrasymachus in Plato's Republic, and of Machiavelli, Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau, Smith, and Bentham. In the twentieth century it became the basis for the rational actor or “economic man” models in economics and political science, and for cost-benefit analyses of public choices.

The modern theory of evolution falls smack into the social contract tradition. It maintains that complex adaptations, including behavioral strategies, evolved to benefit the individual (indeed, the genes for those traits within an individual), not the community, species, or ecosystem.⁶ Social organization evolves when the long-term benefits to the individual outweigh the immediate costs. Darwin was influenced by Adam Smith, and many of his successors analyze the evolution of sociality using tools that come right out of economics, such as game theory and other optimization techniques.

Reciprocal altruism, in particular, is just the traditional concept of the social contract restated in biological terms. Of course, humans were never solitary (as Rousseau and Hobbes incorrectly surmised), and they did not inaugurate group living by haggling over a contract at a particular time and place. Bands, clans, tribes, and other social groups are central to human existence and have been so for as long as we have been a species. But the logic of social contracts may have propelled the evolution of the mental faculties that keep us in these groups. Social arrangements are evolutionarily contingent, arising when the benefits of group living exceed the costs.⁷ With a slightly different ecosystem and evolutionary history, we could have ended up like our cousins the orangutans, who are almost entirely solitary. And according to evolutionary biology, all societies — animal and human — seethe with conflicts of interest and are held together by shifting mixtures of dominance and cooperation.

Throughout the book we have seen how the sciences of human nature have clashed with the sociological tradition. The social sciences were taken over by the doctrine that social facts live in their own universe, separate from the universe of individual minds. In Chapter 4 we saw an alternative conception in which cultures and societies arise from individual people pooling their discoveries and negotiating the tacit agreements that underlie social reality. We saw how a departure from the sociological paradigm was a major heresy of Wilson's Sociobiology, and that the primacy of society was a foundation of Marxism and played a role in its disdain for the interests of individual people.

The division between the sociological and economic traditions is aligned  {286}  with the division between the political left and the political right, but only roughly. Marxism is obviously in the sociological tradition, and free-market conservatism is obviously in the economic tradition. In the liberal 1960s, Lyndon Johnson wanted to forge a Great Society, Pierre Trudeau a Just Society. In the conservative 1980s, Margaret Thatcher said, “There is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women, and there are families.”

But as Masters points out, Durkheim and Parsons were in the sociological tradition, yet they were conservatives. One can easily see how conservative beliefs can favor the preservation of society as an entity and thereby downplay the desires of individuals. Conversely, Locke was in the social contract tradition, but he is a patron saint of liberalism, and Rousseau, who coined the expression “social contract,” was an inspiration for liberal and revolutionary thinkers. Social contracts, like any contract, can become unfair to some of the signatories, and may have to be renegotiated progressively or redrawn from scratch in a revolution.

So the clash between the sociological and economic traditions can explain some of the heat ignited by the sciences of human nature, but it is not identical to the firefight between the political left and the political right. The rest of the chapter will scrutinize that second and hotter button.

~

The right-left axis aligns an astonishing collection of beliefs that at first glance seem to have nothing in common. If you learn that someone is in favor of a strong military, for example, it is a good bet that the person is also in favor of judicial restraint rather than judicial activism. If someone believes in the importance of religion, chances are she will be tough on crime and in favor of lower taxes. Proponents of a laissez-faire economic policy tend to value patriotism and the family, and they are more likely to be old than young, pragmatic than idealistic, censorious than permissive, meritocratic than egalitarian, gradualist than revolutionary, and in a business rather than a university or government agency. The opposing positions cluster just as reliably: if someone is sympathetic to rehabilitating offenders, or to affirmative action, or to generous welfare programs, or to a tolerance of homosexuality, chances are good that he will also be a pacifist, an environmentalist, an activist, an egalitarian, a secularist, and a professor or student.

Why on earth should people's beliefs about sex predict their beliefs about the size of the military? What does religion have to do with taxes? Whence the linkage between strict construction of the Constitution and disdain for shocking art? Before we can understand why beliefs about an innate human nature might cluster with liberal beliefs or with conservative beliefs, we have to understand why liberal beliefs cluster with other liberal beliefs and conservative beliefs cluster with other conservative beliefs.

The meanings of the words are of no help. Marxists in the Soviet Union  {287}  and its aftermath were called conservatives; Reagan and Thatcher were called revolutionaries. Liberals are liberal about sexual behavior but not about business practices; conservatives want to conserve communities and traditions, but they also favor the free market economy that subverts them. People who call themselves “classical liberals” are likely to be called “conservatives” by adherents of the version of leftism known as political correctness.

Nor can most contemporary liberals and conservatives articulate the cores of their belief systems. Liberals think that conservatives are just amoral plutocrats, and conservatives think that if you are not a liberal before you are twenty you have no heart but if you are a liberal after you are twenty you have no brain (attributed variously to Georges Clemenceau, Dean Inge, Benjamin Disraeli, and Maurice Maeterlinck). Strategic alliances — such as the religious fundamentalists and free-market technocrats on the right, or the identity politicians and civil libertarians on the left — may frustrate the search for any intellectual common denominator. Everyday political debates, such as whether tax rates should be exactly what they are or a few points higher or lower, are just as uninformative.

The most sweeping attempt to survey the underlying dimension is Thomas Sowell's A Conflict of Visions.⁸ Not every ideological struggle fits his scheme, but as we say in social science, he has identified a factor that can account for a large proportion of the variance. Sowell explains two “visions” of the nature of human beings that were expressed in their purest forms by Edmund Burke (1729–1797), the patron of secular conservatism, and William Godwin (1756–1836), the British counterpart to Rousseau. In earlier times they might have been referred to as different visions of the perfectibility of man. Sowell calls them the Constrained Vision and the Unconstrained Vision; I will refer to them as the Tragic Vision (a term he uses in a later book) and the Utopian Vision.⁹

In the Tragic Vision, humans are inherently limited in knowledge, wisdom, and virtue, and all social arrangements must acknowledge those limits. “Mortal things suit mortals best,” wrote Pindar; “from the crooked timber of humanity no truly straight thing can be made,” wrote Kant. The Tragic Vision is associated with Hobbes, Burke, Smith, Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, the jurist Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., the economists Friedrich Hayek and Milton Friedman, the philosophers Isaiah Berlin and Karl Popper, and the legal scholar Richard Posner.

In the Utopian Vision, psychological limitations are artifacts that come from our social arrangements, and we should not allow them to restrict our gaze from what is possible in a better world. Its creed might be “Some people see things as they are and ask ‘why?'; I dream things that never were and ask ‘why not?'” The quotation is often attributed to the icon of 1960s liberalism, Robert F. Kennedy, but it was originally penned by the Fabian socialist George  {288}  Bernard Shaw (who also wrote, “There is nothing that can be changed more completely than human nature when the job is taken in hand early enough”).¹⁰ The Utopian Vision is also associated with Rousseau, Godwin, Condorcet, Thomas Paine, the jurist Earl Warren, the economist John Kenneth Galbraith, and to a lesser extent the political philosopher Ronald Dworkin.

In the Tragic Vision, our moral sentiments, no matter how beneficent, overlie a deeper bedrock of selfishness. That selfishness is not the cruelty or aggression of the psychopath, but a concern for our well-being that is so much a part of our makeup that we seldom reflect on it and would waste our time lamenting it or trying to erase it. In his book The Theory of Moral Sentiments, Adam Smith remarked:

Let us suppose that the great empire of China, with all its myriads of inhabitants, was suddenly swallowed up by an earthquake, and let us consider how a man of humanity in Europe, who had no sort of connection with that part of the world, would react upon receiving intelligence of this dreadful calamity. He would, I imagine, first of all express very strongly his sorrow for the misfortune of that unhappy people, he would make many melancholy reflections upon the precariousness of human life, and the vanity of all the labours of man, which could thus be annihilated in a moment. He would, too, perhaps, if he was a man of speculation, enter into many reasonings concerning the effects which this disaster might produce upon the commerce of Europe, and the trade and business of the world in general. And when all this fine philosophy was over, when all these humane sentiments had been once fairly expressed, he would pursue his business or his pleasure, take his repose or his diversion, with the same ease and tranquillity as if no such accident had happened. The most frivolous disaster which could befall himself would occasion a more real disturbance. If he was to lose his little finger tomorrow, he would not sleep tonight; but provided he never saw them, he would snore with the most profound security over the ruin of a hundred million of his brethren.¹¹

In the Tragic Vision, moreover, human nature has not changed. Traditions such as religion, the family, social customs, sexual mores, and political institutions are a distillation of time-tested techniques that let us work around the shortcomings of human nature. They are as applicable to humans today as they were when they developed, even if no one today can explain their rationale. However imperfect society may be, we should measure it against the cruelty and deprivation of the actual past, not the harmony and affluence of an imagined future. We are fortunate enough to live in a society that more or less works, and our first priority should be not to screw it up, because human  {289}  nature always leaves us teetering on the brink of barbarism. And since no one is smart enough to predict the behavior of a single human being, let alone millions of them interacting in a society, we should distrust any formula for changing society from the top down, because it is likely to have unintended consequences that are worse than the problems it was designed to fix. The best we can hope for are incremental changes that are continuously adjusted according to feedback about the sum of their good and bad consequences. It also follows that we should not aim to solve social problems like crime or poverty, because in a world of competing individuals one person's gain may be another person's loss. The best we can do is trade off one cost against another. In Burke's famous words, written in the aftermath of the French Revolution:

[One] should approach to the faults of the state as to the wounds of a father, with pious awe and trembling solicitude. By this wise prejudice we are taught to look with horror on those children of their country who are prompt rashly to hack that aged parent in pieces, and put him into the kettle of magicians, in hopes that by their poisonous weeds, and wild incantations, they may regenerate the paternal constitution, and renovate their father's life.¹²

In the Utopian Vision, human nature changes with social circumstances, so traditional institutions have no inherent value. That was then, this is now. Traditions are the dead hand of the past, the attempt to rule from the grave. They must be stated explicitly so their rationale can be scrutinized and their moral status evaluated. And by that test, many traditions fail: the confinement of women to the home, the stigma against homosexuality and premarital sex, the superstitions of religion, the injustice of apartheid and segregation, the dangers of patriotism as exemplified in the mindless slogan “My country, right or wrong.” Practices such as absolute monarchy, slavery, war, and patriarchy once seemed inevitable but have disappeared or faded from many parts of the world through changes in institutions that were once thought to be rooted in human nature. Moreover, the existence of suffering and injustice presents us with an undeniable moral imperative. We don't know what we can achieve until we try, and the alternative, resigning ourselves to these evils as the way of the world, is unconscionable. At Robert Kennedy's funeral, his brother Edward quoted from one of his recent speeches:

Those with the Tragic Vision are unmoved by ringing declarations attributed to the first-person plural we, our, and us. They are more likely to use the pronouns as the cartoon possum Pogo did: We have met the enemy, and he is us. We are all members of the same flawed species. Putting our moral vision into practice means imposing our will on others. The human lust for power and esteem, coupled with its vulnerability to self-deception and self-righteousness, makes that an invitation to a calamity, all the worse when that power is directed at a goal as quixotic as eradicating human self-interest. As the conservative philosopher Michael Oakshott wrote, “To try to do something which is inherently impossible is always a corrupting enterprise.”

The two kinds of visionaries thereby line up on opposite sides of many issues that would seem to have little in common. The Utopian Vision seeks to articulate social goals and devise policies that target them directly: economic inequality is attacked in a war on poverty, pollution by environmental regulations, racial imbalances by preferences, carcinogens by bans on food additives. The Tragic Vision points to the self-interested motives of the people who would implement these policies — namely, the expansion of their bureaucratic fiefdoms — and to their ineptitude at anticipating the myriad consequences, especially when the social goals are pitted against millions of people pursuing their own interests. Thus, say the Tragic Visionaries, the Utopians fail to anticipate that welfare might encourage dependency, or that a restriction on one pollutant might force people to use another.

Instead, the Tragic Vision looks to systems that produce desirable outcomes even when no member of the system is particularly wise or virtuous. Market economies, in this vision, accomplish that goal: remember Smith's butcher, brewer, and baker providing us with dinner out of self-interest rather than benevolence. No mastermind has to understand the intricate flow of goods and services that make up an economy in order to anticipate who needs what, and when and where. Property rights give people an incentive to work and produce; contracts allow them to enjoy gains in trade. Prices convey information about scarcity and demand to producers and consumers, so they can  {291}  react by following a few simple rules — make more of what is profitable, buy less of what is expensive — and the “invisible hand” will do the rest. The intelligence of the system is distributed across millions of not-necessarily-intelligent producers and consumers, and cannot be articulated by anyone in particular.

People with the Utopian Vision point to market failures that can result from having a blind faith in free markets. They also call attention to the unjust distribution of wealth that tends to be produced by free markets. Opponents with the Tragic Vision argue that the notion of justice makes sense only when applied to human decisions within a framework of laws, not when applied to an abstraction called “society.” Friedrich Hayek wrote, “The manner in which the benefits and burdens are apportioned by the market mechanism would in many instances have to be regarded as very unjust if it were the result of a deliberate allocation to particular people.” But that concern with social justice rests on a confusion, he claimed, because “the particulars of [a spontaneous order] cannot be just or unjust.”¹⁴

Some of today's battles between left and right fall directly out of these different philosophies: big versus small government, high versus low taxes, protectionism versus free trade, measures that aim to reduce undesirable outcomes (poverty, inequality, racial imbalance) versus measures that merely level the playing field and enforce the rules. Other battles follow in a less obvious way from the opposing visions of human potential. The Tragic Vision stresses fiduciary duties, even when the person executing them cannot see their immediate value, because they allow imperfect beings who cannot be sure of their virtue or foresight to participate in a tested system. The Utopian Vision stresses social responsibility, where people hold their actions to a higher ethical standard. In Lawrence Kohlberg's famous theory of moral development, a willingness to ignore rules in favor of abstract principles was literally identified as a “higher stage” (which, perhaps tellingly, most people never reach).

The most obvious example is the debate on strict constructionism and judicial restraint on one side and judicial activism in pursuit of social justice on the other. Earl Warren, the chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court from 1954 to 1969, was the prototypical judicial activist, who led the court to implement desegregation and expand the rights of the accused. He was known for interrupting lawyers in mid-argument by asking, “Is it right? Is it good?” The opposing view was stated by Oliver Wendell Holmes, who said his job was “to see that the game is played according to the rules whether I like them or not.” He conceded that “to improve conditions of life and the race is the main thing,” and added, “But how the devil can I tell whether I am not pulling it down more in some other place?”¹⁵ Those with the Tragic Vision see judicial activism as an invitation to egotism and caprice and as unfair to those who have played by the rules as they were publicly stated. Those with the Utopian Vision see judicial restraint as the mindless preservation of arbitrary injustices — as Dickens's  {292}  Mr.Bumble put it, “The law is an ass.”¹⁶ An infamous example is the Dred Scott decision of 1856, in which the Supreme Court ruled on narrow legalistic grounds that a freedslave could not sue to make his freedom official and that Congress could not prohibit slavery in federal territories.

Radical political reform, like radical judicial reform, will be more or less appealing depending on one's confidence in human intelligence and wisdom. In the Utopian Vision, solutions to social problems are readily available. Speaking in 1967 about the conditions that breed violence, Lyndon Johnson said, “All of us know what those conditions are: ignorance, discrimination, slums, poverty, disease, not enough jobs.”¹⁷ If we already know the solutions, all we have to do is choose to implement them, and that requires only sincerity and dedication. By the same logic, anyone opposing the solutions must be motivated by blindness, dishonesty, and callousness. Those with the Tragic Vision say instead that solutions to social problems are elusive. The inherent conflicts of interest among people leave us with few options, all of them imperfect. Opponents of radical reform are showing a wise distrust of human hubris.

The political orientation of the universities is another manifestation of conflicting visions of human potential. Adherents of the Tragic Vision distrust knowledge stated in explicitly articulated and verbally justified propositions, which is the stock-in-trade of academics, pundits, and policy analysts. Instead they trust knowledge that is distributed diffusely throughout a system (such as a market economy or set of social mores) and which is tuned by adjustments by many simple agents using feedback from the world. (Cognitive scientists will be reminded of the distinction between symbolic representations and distributed neural networks, and that is no coincidence: Hayek, the foremost advocate of distributed intelligence in societies, was an early neural network modeler.)¹⁸ For much of the twentieth century, political conservatism had an anti-intellectual streak, until conservatives decided to play catch-up in the battle for hearts and minds and funded policy think tanks as a counterweight tc universities.

Finally, the disagreements on crime and war fall right out of the conflicting theories of human nature. Given the obvious waste and cruelty of war. those with the Utopian Vision see it as a kind of pathology that arises from misunderstandings, shortsightedness, and irrational passions. War is to be prevented by public expressions of pacifist sentiments, better communication between potential enemies, less saber-rattling rhetoric, fewer weapons and military alliances, a de-emphasis on patriotism, and negotiating to avert war at any cost. Adherents of the Tragic Vision, with their cynical view of human nature, see war as a rational and tempting strategy for people who think they can gain something for themselves or their nation. The calculations might be mistaken in any instance, and they may be morally deplorable because they give no weight to the suffering of the losers, but they are not literally pathological  {293}  or irrational. On this view the only way to ensure peace is to raise the cost of war to potential aggressors by developing weaponry, arousing patriotism, rewarding bravery, flaunting one's might and resolve, and negotiating from strength to deter blackmail.

The same arguments divide the visions on crime. Those with the Utopian Vision see crime as inherently irrational and seek to prevent it by identifying the root causes. Those with the Tragic Vision see crime as inherently rational and believe that the root cause is all too obvious: people rob banks because that's where the money is. The most effective crime-prevention programs, they say, strike directly at the rational incentives. A high probability of unpleasant punishment raises the anticipated cost of crime. A public emphasis on personal responsibility helps enforce the incentives by closing any loopholes left open by the law. And strict parenting practices allow children to internalize these contingencies early in life.¹⁹

~

And onto this battlefield strode an innocent E. O. Wilson. The ideas from evolutionary biology and behavioral genetics that became public in the 1970s could not have been more of an insult to those with the Utopian Vision. That vision was, after all, based on the Blank Slate (no permanent human nature), the Noble Savage (no selfish or evil instincts), and the Ghost in the Machine (an unfettered “we” that can choose better social arrangements). And here were scientists talking about selfish genes! And saying that adaptations are not for the good of the species but for the good of individuals and their kin (as if to vindicate Thatcher's claim that “there is no such thing as society”). That people scrimp on altruism because it is vulnerable to cheaters. That in pre-state societies men go to war even when they are well fed, because status and women are permanent Darwinian incentives. That the moral sense is riddled with biases, including a tendency to self-deception. And that conflicts of genetic interest are built in to social animals and leave us in a state of permanent tragedy. It looked as if the scientists were saying to proponents of the Tragic Vision: You're right, they're wrong.

The Utopians, particularly those in the radical science movement, replied that current findings on human intelligence and motivation are irrelevant. They can tell us only about what we have achieved in today's society, not what we might achieve in tomorrow's. Since we know that social arrangements can change if we decide to change them, any scientist who speaks of constraints on human nature must want oppression and injustice to continue.

My own view is that the new sciences of human nature really do vindicate some version of the Tragic Vision and undermine the Utopian outlook that until recently dominated large segments of intellectual life. The sciences say nothing, of course, about differences in values that are associated with particular right-wing and left-wing positions (such as in the tradeoffs between  {294}  unemployment and environmental protection, diversity and economic efficiency, or individual freedom and community cohesion). Nor do they speak directly to policies that are based on a complex mixture of assumptions about the world. But they do speak to the parts of the visions that are general claims about how the mind works. Those claims may be evaluated against the facts, just like any empirical hypothesis. The Utopian vision that human nature might radically change in some imagined society of the remote future is, of course, literally unfalsifiable, but I think that many of the discoveries recounted in preceding chapters make it unlikely. Among them I would include the following:

• The primacy of family ties in all human societies and the consequent appeal of nepotism and inheritance.²⁰

• The limited scope of communal sharing in human groups, the more common ethos of reciprocity, and the resulting phenomena of social loafing and the collapse of contributions to public goods when reciprocity cannot be implemented.²¹

• The universality of dominance and violence across human societies (including supposedly peaceable hunter-gatherers) and the existence of genetic and neurological mechanisms that underlie it.²²

• The universality of ethnocentrism and other forms of group-against-group hostility across societies, and the ease with which such hostility can be aroused in people within our own society.²³

• The partial heritability of intelligence, conscientiousness, and antisocial tendencies, implying that some degree of inequality will arise even in perfectly fair economic systems; and that we therefore face an inherent tradeoff between equality and freedom.²⁴

• The prevalence of defense mechanisms, self-serving biases, and cognitive dissonance reduction, by which people deceive themselves about their autonomy, wisdom, and integrity.²⁵

• The biases of the human moral sense, including a preference for kin and friends, a susceptibility to a taboo mentality, and a tendency to confuse morality with conformity, rank, cleanliness, and beauty.²⁶

It is not just conventional scientific data that tell us the mind is not infinitely malleable. I think it is no coincidence that beliefs that were common among intellectuals in the 1960s — that democracies are obsolete, revolution is desirable, the police and armed forces dispensable, and society designable from the top down — are now rarer. The Tragic Vision and the Utopian Vision inspired historical events whose interpretations are much clearer than they were just a few decades ago. Those events can serve as additional data to test the visions’ claims about human psychology.  {295} 

The visions contrast most sharply in the political revolutions they spawned. The first revolution with a Utopian Vision was the French Revolution — recall Wordsworth's description of the times, with “human nature seeming born again.” The revolution overthrew the ancien regime and sought to begin from scratch with the ideals of liberty, equality, and fraternity and a belief that salvation would come from vesting authority in a morally superior breed of leaders. The revolution, of course, sent one leader after another to the guillotine as each failed to measure up to usurpers who felt they had a stronger claim to wisdom and virtue. No political structure survived the turnover of personnel, leaving a vacuum that would be filled by Napoleon. The Russian Revolution was also animated by the Utopian Vision, and it also burned through a succession of leaders before settling into the personality cult of Stalin. The Chinese Revolution, too, put its faith in the benevolence and wisdom of a man who displayed, if anything, a particularly strong dose of human foibles like dominance, lust, and self-deception. The perennial limitations of human nature prove the futility of political revolutions based only on the moral aspirations of the revolutionaries. In the words of the song about revolution by The Who: Meet the new boss; same as the old boss.

Sowell points out that Marxism is a hybrid of the two visions.²⁷ It invokes the Tragic Vision to interpret the past, when earlier modes of production left no choice but the forms of social organization known as feudalism and capitalism. But it invokes a Utopian Vision for the future, in which we can shape our nature in dialectical interaction with the material and social environment. In that new world, people will be motivated by self-actualization rather than self-interest, allowing us to realize the ideal, “From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.” Marx wrote that a communist society would be

the genuine resolution of the antagonism between man and nature and between man and man; it is the true resolution of the conflict between existence and essence, objectification and self-affirmation, freedom and necessity, individual and species. It is the riddle of history solved.²⁸

It doesn't get any less tragic or more Utopian than that. Marx dismissed the worry that selfishness and dominance would corrupt those carrying out the general will. For example, he waved off the anarchist Mikhail Bakunin's fear that the workers in charge would become despotic: “If Mr. Bakunin were familiar just with the position of a manager in a workers’ cooperative, he could send all his nightmares about authority to the devil.”²⁹

In the heyday of radical science, any proposal about human nature that conflicted with the Marxist vision was dismissed as self-evidently wrong. But history is a kind of experiment, albeit an imperfectly controlled one, and its  {296}  data suggest that it was the radical assessment that got it wrong. Marxism is now almost universally recognized as an experiment that failed, at least in its worldly implementations.³⁰ The nations that adopted it either collapsed, gave it up, or languish in backward dictatorships. As we saw in earlier chapters, the ambition to remake human nature turned its leaders into totalitarian despots and mass murderers. And the assumption that central planners were morally disinterested and cognitively competent enough to direct an entire economy led to comical inefficiencies with serious consequences. Even the more humane forms of European socialism have been watered down to the point where so-called Communist Parties have platforms that not long ago would have been called reactionary. Wilson, the world's expert on ants, may have had the last laugh in his verdict on Marxism: “Wonderful theory. Wrong species.”³¹

~

“Two cheers for democracy,” proclaimed E. M. Forster. “Democracy is the worst form of government except all those other forms that have been tried,” said Winston Churchill. These are encomiums worthy of the Tragic Vision. For all their flaws, liberal democracies appear to be the best form of large-scale social organization our sorry species has come up with so far. They provide more comfort and freedom, more artistic and scientific vitality, longer and safer lives, and less disease and pollution than any of the alternatives. Modern democracies never have famines, almost never wage war on one another, and are the top choice of people all over the world who vote with their feet or with their boats. The moderate success of democracies, like the failures of radical revolutions and of Marxist governments, is now widely enough agreed upon that it may serve as another empirical test for rival theories of human nature.

The modern concept of democracy emerged in seventeenth– and eighteenth-century England and was refined in the frenzy of theorizing that surrounded the American independence movement. It is no coincidence that the major theoreticians of the social contract, such as Hobbes, Locke, and Hume, were also major armchair psychologists. As Madison wrote, “What is government itself but the greatest of all reflections on human nature?”³²

The brains behind the American Revolution (which is sometimes labeled with the oxymoron “conservative revolution”) inherited the tragic vision of thinkers like Hobbes and Hume.³³ (Significantly, the founders appear not to have been influenced by Rousseau at all, and the popular belief that they got the idea of democracy from the Iroquois Federation is just 1960s granola.)³⁴ The legal scholar John McGinnis has argued that their theory of human nature could have come right out of modern evolutionary psychology.³⁵ It acknowledges the desire of individuals to further their interests in the form of an inalienable right to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” The state emerges from an agreement instituted to protect those rights, rather than being the embodiment of an autonomous superorganism. Rights need to be protected  {297}  because when people live together their different talents and circumstances will lead some of them to possess things that others want. (“Men have different and unequal faculties for acquiring property,” noted Madison.)³⁶ There are two ways to get something you want from other people: steal it or trade for it. The first involves the psychology of dominance; the second, the psychology of reciprocal altruism. The goal of a peaceful and prosperous society is to minimize the use of dominance, which leads to violence and waste, and to maximize the use of reciprocity, which leads to gains in trade that make everyone better off.

The Constitution, McGinnis shows, was consciously designed to implement these goals. It encouraged reciprocal exchanges through the Commerce Clause, which authorized Congress to remove barriers to trade imposed by the states. It protected them from the danger of cheaters through the Contracts Clause, which prevented states from impairing the enforcement of contracts. And it precluded rulers from confiscating the fruits of the more productive citizens via the Takings Clause, which forbids the government to expropriate private property without compensation.

The feature of human nature that most impressed the framers was the drive for dominance and esteem, which, they feared, imperils all forms of government. Someone must be empowered to make decisions and enforce laws, and that someone is inherently vulnerable to corruption. How to anticipate and limit that corruption became an obsession of the framers. John Adams wrote, “The desire for the esteem of others is as real a want of nature as hunger. It is the principal end of government to regulate this passion.”³⁷ Alexander Hamilton wrote, “The love of fame [is] the ruling passion of the noblest minds.”³⁸ James Madison wrote, “If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary.”³⁹

So external and internal controls there would be. “Parchment barriers,” said Madison, were not enough; rather, “ambition must be made to counteract ambition.”⁴⁰ Checks and balances were instituted to stalemate any faction that grew too powerful. They included the division of authority between federal and state governments, the separation of powers among the executive, legislative, and judiciary branches, and the splitting of the legislative branch into two houses.

Madison was especially adamant that the Constitution rein in the part of human nature that encourages war, which is not a primitive lust for blood, he claimed, but an advanced lust for esteem:

War is in fact the true nurse of executive aggrandizement. In war a physical force is created, and it is the executive will to direct it. In war the public treasures are to be unlocked, and it is the executive hand which is to dispense them. In war the honors and emoluments of office are to be  {298}  multiplied; and it is the executive patronage under which they are to be enjoyed. It is in war finally that laurels are to be gathered, and it is the executive brow they are to encircle. The strongest passions and the most dangerous weakness of the human breast — ambition, avarice, vanity, the honorable or venial love of fame — are all in conspiracy against the desire and duty of peace.⁴¹

This inspired the War Powers Clause, which gave Congress, not the president, the power to declare war. (It was infamously circumvented in the years of the Vietnam conflict, during which Johnson and Nixon never formally declared a state of war.)

McGinnis notes that even the freedoms of speech, assembly, and the press were motivated by features of human nature. The framers justified them as means of preventing tyranny: a network of freely communicating citizens can counteract the might of the individuals in government. As we now say, they can “speak truth to power.” The dynamic of power sharing protected by these rights might go way back in evolutionary history. The primatologists Frans de Waal, Robin Dunbar, and Christopher Boehm have shown how a coalition of lower-ranking primates can depose a single alpha male.⁴² Like McGinnis, they suggest this may be a crude analogue of political democracy.

None of this means that the American Constitution was a guarantee of a happy and moral society, of course. By working within the glaringly undersized moral circle of the day, the Constitution failed to stand in the way of the genocide of native peoples, the slavery and segregation of African Americans, and the disenfranchisement of women. It said little about the conduct of foreign affairs, which (except with regard to strategic allies) has generally been guided by a cynical realpolitik. The first failing has been addressed by explicit measures to expand the legal circle, such as the Equal Protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment; the second is unsolved and perhaps unsolvable, because other countries are necessarily outside any circle delineated by a national document. The Constitution also lacked any principled compassion for those at the bottom of the meritocracy, assuming that equality of opportunity was the only mechanism needed to address the distribution of wealth. And it is incapable of stipulating the suite of values and customs that appear to be necessary for a democracy to function in practice.

Acknowledging the relative success of constitutional democracy does not require one to be a flag-waving patriot. But it does suggest that something may have been right about the theory of human nature that guided its architects.

~

The left needs a new paradigm.

— Peter Singer, A Darwinian Left (1999)⁴³  {299} 

Conservatives need Charles Darwin.

— Larry Arnhart, “Conservatives, Design, and Darwin” (2000)⁴⁴

What's going on? That voices of the contemporary left and the contemporary right are both embracing evolutionary psychology after decades of reviling it shows two things. One is that biological facts are beginning to box in plausible political philosophies. The belief on the left that human nature can be changed at will, and the belief on the right that morality rests on God's endowing us with an immaterial soul, are becoming rearguard struggles against the juggernaut of science. A popular bumper sticker in the 1990s urged, question authority. Another bumper sticker replied, question gravity. All political philosophies have to decide when their arguments are turning into the questioning of gravity.

The second development is that an acknowledgment of human nature can no longer be associated with the political right. Once the Utopian Vision is laid to rest, the field of political positions is wide open. The Tragic Vision, after all, has not been vindicated in anything like its most lugubrious form. For all its selfishness, the human mind is equipped with a moral sense, whose circle of application has expanded steadily and might continue to expand as more of the world becomes interdependent. And for all its limitations, human cognition is an open-ended combinatorial system, which in principle can increase its mastery over human affairs, just as it has increased its mastery of the physical and living worlds.

Traditions, for their part, are adapted not to human nature alone but to human nature in the context of an infrastructure of technology and economic exchange (one does not have to be a Marxist to accept this insight from Marx). Some traditional institutions, like families and the rule of law, may be adapted to eternal features of human psychology. Others, such as primogeniture, were obviously adapted to the demands of a feudal system that required keeping the family lands intact, and became obsolete when the economic system changed in the wake of industrialization. More recently, feminism was in part a response to improved reproductive technologies and the shift to a service economy. Because social conventions are not adapted to human nature alone, a respect for human nature does not require preserving all of them.

For these reasons I think political beliefs will increasingly cut across the centuries-old divide between the Tragic and Utopian Visions. They will diverge by invoking different aspects of human nature, by giving different weightings to conflicting goals, or by offering different assessments of the likely outcomes of particular courses of action.

I end the chapter with a tour of some thinkers on the left who are scrambling the traditional alignment between human nature and right-wing  {300}  politics. As its title suggests, A Darwinian Left is the most systematic attempt to map out the new alignment.⁴⁵ Singer writes, “It is time for the left to take seriously the fact that we are evolved animals, and that we bear the evidence of our inheritance, not only in our anatomy and our DNA, but in our behavior too.”⁴⁶ For Singer this means acknowledging the limits of human nature, which makes the perfectibility of humankind an impossible goal. And it means acknowledging specific components of human nature. They include self-interest, which implies that competitive economic systems will work better than state monopolies; the drive for dominance, which makes powerful governments vulnerable to overweening autocrats; ethnocentrism, which puts nationalist movements at risk of committing discrimination and genocide; and differences between the sexes, which should temper measures for rigid gender parity in all walks of life.

So what's left of the left? an observer might ask. Singer replies, “If we shrug our shoulders at the avoidable suffering of the weak and the poor, of those who are getting exploited and ripped off, or who simply do not have enough to sustain life at a decent level, we are not of the left. If we say that that is just the way the world is, and always will be, and there is nothing we can do about it, we are not part of the left. The left wants to do something about this situation.”⁴⁷ Singer's leftism, like traditional leftism, is defined by a contrast with a defeatist Tragic Vision. But its goal — “doing something” — has been downsized considerably from Robert Kennedy's goal in the 1960s of “building a new world society.”

The Darwinian left has ranged from vague expressions of values to wonk-ish policy initiatives. We have already met two theoreticians at the vaguer end. Chomsky has been the most vocal defender of an innate cognitive endowment since he nailed his thesis of an inborn language faculty to the behaviorists’ door in the late 1950s. He has also been a fierce left-wing critic of American society and has recently inspired a whole new generation of campus radicals (as we saw in his interview with Rage Against the Machine). Chomsky insists that the connections between his science and his politics are slender but real:

A vision of a future social order is ... based on a concept of human nature. If, in fact, man is an indefinitely malleable, completely plastic being, with no innate structures of mind and no intrinsic needs of a cultural or social character, then he is a fit subject for the “shaping of behavior” by the State authority, the corporate manager, the technocrat, or the central committee. Those with some confidence in the human species will hope this is not so and will try to determine the intrinsic characteristics that provide the framework for intellectual development, the growth of moral consciousness, cultural achievement, and participation in a free community.⁴⁸  {301} 

He describes his political vision as “libertarian socialist” and “anarcho-syndicalist,” the kind of anarchism that values spontaneous cooperation (as opposed to anarcho-capitalism, the kind that values individualism).⁴⁹ This vision, he suggests, lies in a Cartesian tradition that includes “Rousseau's opposition to tyranny, oppression, and established authority,... Kant's defense of freedom, Humboldt's precapitalist liberalism with its emphasis on the basic human need for free creation under conditions of voluntary association, and Marx's critique of alienated fragmented labor that turns men into machines, depriving them of their ‘species character’ of ‘free conscious activity’ and ‘productive life’ in association with their fellows.”⁵⁰ Chomsky's political beliefs, then, resonate with his scientific belief that humans are innately endowed with a desire for community and a drive for creative free expression, language being the paradigm example. That holds out the hope for a society organized by cooperation and natural productivity rather than by hierarchical control and the profit motive.

Chomsky's theory of human nature, though strongly innatist, is innocent of modern evolutionary biology, with its demonstration of ubiquitous conflicts of genetic interest. These conflicts lead to a darker view of human nature, one that has always been a headache for those with anarchist dreams. But the thinker who first elucidated these conflicts, Robert Trivers, was a left-wing radical as well, and one of the rare white Black Panthers. As we saw in Chapter 6, Trivers viewed sociobiology as a subversive discipline. A sensitivity to conflicts of interest can illuminate the interests of repressed agents, such as women and younger generations, and it can expose the deception and self-deception that elites use to justify their dominance.⁵¹ In that way sociobiology follows in the liberal tradition of Locke by using science and reason to debunk the rationalizations of rulers. Reason was used in Locke's time to question the divine right of kings, and may be used in our time to question the pretension that current political arrangements serve everyone's interests.

Though it may come as a shock to many people, the use of IQ tests and a recognition of innate differences in intelligence can support — and in the past did support — left-wing political goals. In his article “Bell Curve Liberals,” the journalist Adrian Wooldridge points out that IQ testing was welcomed by the British left as the ultimate subverter of a caste society ruled by inbred upper-class twits.⁵² Together with other liberals and socialists, Sidney and Beatrice Webb hoped to turn the educational system into a “capacity-catching machine” that could “rescue talented poverty from the shop or the plough” and direct them into the ruling elite. They were opposed by conservatives such as T. S. Eliot, who worried that a system that sorts people by ability would disorganize civil society by breaking the bonds of class and tradition at both ends of the ladder. At one end it would fragment working-class communities, dividing them by talent. At the other it would remove the ethic of noblesse oblige from the upper classes, who now would have “earned” their success and be  {302}  responsible to no one, rather than inheriting it and being obligated to help the less fortunate. Wooldridge argues that “the left can hardly afford to ignore I.Q. tests, which, for all their inadequacies, are still the best means yet devised for spotting talent wherever it occurs, in the inner cities as well as the plush housing estates, and ensuring that talent is matched to the appropriate educational streams and job opportunities.”

For their part, Richard Herrnstein and Charles Murray (the authors of The Bell Curve) argued that the heritability of intelligence ought to galvanize the left into a greater commitment to Rawlsian social justice.⁵³ If intelligence were entirely acquired, then policies for equal opportunity would suffice to guarantee an equitable distribution of wealth and power. But if some souls have the misfortune of being born into brains with lower ability, they could fall into poverty through no fault of their own, even in a perfectly fair system of economic competition. If social justice consists of seeing to the well-being of the worst off, then recognizing genetic differences calls for an active redistribution of wealth. Indeed, though Herrnstein was a conservative and Murray a right-leaning libertarian and communitarian, they were not opposed to simple redistributive measures such as a negative income tax for the lowest wage earners, which would give a break to those who play by the rules but still can't scrape by. Murray's libertarianism leads him to oppose government programs that are more activist than that, but he and Herrnstein noted that a hereditarian left is a niche waiting to be filled.

An important challenge to conservative political theory has come from behavioral economists such as Richard Thaler and George Akerlof, who were influenced by the evolutionary cognitive psychology of Herbert Simon, Amos Tversky, Daniel Kahneman, Gerd Gigerenzer, and Paul Slovic.⁵⁴ These psychologists have argued that human thinking and decision making are biological adaptations rather than engines of pure rationality. These mental systems work with limited amounts of information, have to reach decisions in a finite amount of time, and ultimately serve evolutionary goals such as status and security. Conservatives have always invoked limitations on human reason to rein in the pretense that we can understand social behavior well enough to redesign society. But those limitations also undermine the assumption of rational self-interest that underlies classical economics and secular conservatism. Ever since Adam Smith, classical economists have argued that in the absence of outside interference, individuals making decisions in their own interests will do what is best for themselves and for society. But if people do not always calculate what is best for themselves, they might be better off with the taxes and regulations that classical economists find so perverse.

For example, rational agents informed by interest rates and their life expectancies should save the optimal proportion of their wages for comfort in their old age. Social security and mandatory savings plans should be  {303}  unnecessary — indeed, harmful — because they take away choice and hence the opportunity to find the best balance between consuming now and saving for the future. But economists repeatedly find that people spend their money like drunken sailors. They act as if they think they will die in a few years, or as if the future is completely unpredictable, which may be closer to the reality of our evolutionary ancestors than it is to life today.⁵⁵ If so, then allowing people to manage their own savings (for example, letting them keep their entire paycheck and investing it as they please) may work against their interests. Like Odysseus approaching the island of the Sirens, people might rationally agree to let their employer or the government tie them to the mast of forced savings.

The economist Robert Frank has appealed to the evolutionary psychology of status to point out other shortcomings of the rational-actor theory and, by extension, laissez-faire economics.⁵⁶ Rational actors should eschew not only forced retirement savings but other policies that ostensibly protect them, such as mandatory health benefits, workplace safety regulations, unemployment insurance, and union dues. All of these cost money that would otherwise go into their paychecks, and workers could decide for themselves whether to take a pay cut to work for a company with the most paternalistic policies or go for the biggest salary and take higher risks on the job. Companies, in their competition for the best employees, should find the balance demanded by the employees they want.

The rub, Frank points out, is that people are endowed with a craving for status. Their first impulse is to spend money in ways that put themselves ahead of the Joneses (houses, cars, clothing, prestigious educations), rather than in ways that only they know about (health care, job safety, retirement savings). Unfortunately, status is a zero-sum game, so when everyone has more money to spend on cars and houses, the houses and cars get bigger but people are no happier than they were before. Like hockey players who agree to wear helmets only if a rule forces their opponents to wear them too, people might agree to regulations that force everyone to pay for hidden benefits like health care that make them happier in the long run, even if the regulations come at the expense of disposable income. For the same reason, Frank argues, we would be better off if we implemented a steeply graduated tax on consumption, replacing the current graduated tax on income. A consumption tax would damp down the futile arms race for ever more lavish cars, houses, and watches and compensate people with resources that provably increase happiness, such as leisure time, safer streets, and more pleasant commuting and working conditions.

Finally, Darwinian leftists have been examining the evolutionary psychology of economic inequality. The economists Samuel Bowles and Herbert Gintis, formerly Marxists and now Darwinians, have reviewed the literature from ethnography and behavioral economics which suggests that people are neither antlike altruists nor self-centered misers.⁵⁷ As we saw in Chapter 14, people  {304}  share with others who they think are willing to share, and punish those who are not. (Gintis calls this “strong reciprocity,” which is like reciprocal altruism or “weak reciprocity” but is aimed at other people's willingness to contribute to public goods rather than at tit-for-tat exchanges.)⁵⁸ This psychology makes people oppose indiscriminate welfare and expansive social programs not because they are callous or greedy but because they think such programs reward the indolent and punish the industrious. Bowles and Gintis note that even in today's supposedly antiwelfare climate, polls show that most people are willing to pay higher taxes for some kinds of universal social insurance. They are willing to pay to guarantee basic needs such as food, shelter, and health care, to aid the victims of bad luck, and to help people who are down and out become self-sufficient. In other words, people are opposed to a blanket welfare state not out of greed but out of fairness. A welfare system that did not try to rewrite the public consciousness, and which distinguished between the deserving and the undeserving poor, would, they argue, be perfectly consonant with human nature.

The politics of economic inequality ultimately hinge on a tradeoff between economic freedom and economic equality. Though scientists cannot dictate how these desiderata should be weighted, they can help assess the morally relevant costs and thereby enable us to make a more informed decision. Once again the psychology of status and dominance has a role to play in this assessment. In absolute terms, today's poor are materially better off than the aristocracy of just a century ago. They live longer, are better fed, and enjoy formerly unimaginable luxuries such as central heating, refrigerators, telephones, and round-the-clock entertainment from television and radio. Conservatives say this makes it hard to argue that the station of lower-income people is an ethical outrage that ought to be redressed at any cost.

But if people's sense of well-being comes from an assessment of their social status, and social status is relative, then extreme inequality can make people on the lower rungs feel defeated even if they are better off than most of humanity. It is not just a matter of hurt feelings: people with lower status are less healthy and die younger, and communities with greater inequality have poorer health and shorter life expectancies.⁵⁹ The medical researcher Richard Wilkinson, who documented these patterns, argues that low status triggers an ancient stress reaction that sacrifices tissue repair and immune function for an immediate fight-or-flight response. Wilkinson, together with Martin Daly and Margo Wilson, have pointed to another measurable cost of economic inequality. Crime rates are much higher in regions with greater disparities of wealth (even after controlling for absolute levels of wealth), partly because chronic low status leads men to become obsessed with rank and to kill one another over trivial insults.⁶⁰ Wilkinson argues that reducing economic inequality would make millions of lives happier, safer, and longer.  {305} 

This well-populated gallery of left-wing innatists should not come as a surprise, even after centuries in which human nature was a preserve of the right. Mindful both of science and of history, the Darwinian left has abandoned the Utopian Vision that brought so many unintended disasters. Whether this non-Utopian left is really all that different from the contemporary secular right, and whether its particular policies are worth their costs, is not for me to argue here. The point is that traditional political alignments ought to change as we learn more about human beings. The ideologies of the left and the right took shape before Darwin, before Mendel, before anyone knew what a gene or a neuron or a hormone was. Every student of political science is taught that political ideologies are based on theories of human nature. Why must they be based on theories that are three hundred years out of date?

Chapter 17

Violence

The story of the human race is war. Except for brief and precarious interludes there has never been peace in the world; and long before history began murderous strife was universal and unending.¹

Winston Churchill's summary of our species could be dismissed as the pessimism of a man who fought history's most awful war and was present at the birth of a cold war that could have destroyed humanity altogether. In fact it has sadly stood the test of time. Though the cold war is a memory, and hot wars between major nations are rare, we still do not have peace in the world. Even before the infamous year of 2001, with its horrific terrorist attacks on the United States and subsequent war in Afghanistan, the World Conflict List catalogued sixty-eight areas of systematic violence, from Albania and Algeria through Zambia and Zimbabwe.²

Churchill's speculation about prehistory has also been borne out. Modern foragers, who offer a glimpse of life in prehistoric societies, were once thought to engage only in ceremonial battles that were called to a halt as soon as the first man fell. Now they are known to kill one another at rates that dwarf the casualties from our world wars.³ The archaeological record is no happier. Buried in the ground and hidden in caves lie silent witnesses to a bloody prehistory stretching back hundreds of thousands of years. They include skeletons with scalping marks, ax-shaped dents, and arrowheads embedded in them; weapons like tomahawks and maces that are useless for hunting but specialized for homicide; fortification defenses such as palisades of sharpened sticks; and paintings from several continents showing men firing arrows, spears, or boomerangs at one another and being felled by these weapons.⁴ For decades, “anthropologists of peace” denied that any human group had ever practiced cannibalism, but evidence to the contrary has been piling up and now includes a smoking gun. In an 850-year-old site in the American Southwest, archaeologists have found human bones that were hacked up like the bones of animals  {307}  used for food. They also found traces of human myoglobin (a muscle protein) on pot shards, and — damningly — in a lump of fossilized human excrement.⁵ Members of Homo antecessor, relatives of the common ancestor of Neanderthals and modern humans, bashed and butchered one another too, suggesting that violence and cannibalism go back at least 800,000 years.⁶

War is only one of the ways in which people kill other people. In much of the world, war shades into smaller-scale violence such as ethnic strife, turf battles, blood feuds, and individual homicides. Here too, despite undeniable improvements, we do not have anything like peace. Though Western societies have seen murder rates fall between tenfold and a hundredfold in the past millennium, the United States lost a million people to homicide in the twentieth century, and an American man has about a one-half percent lifetime chance of being murdered.⁷

History indicts our species not just with the number of killings but with the manner. Hundreds of millions of Christians decorate their homes and adorn their bodies with a facsimile of a device that inflicted an unimaginably agonizing death on people who were a nuisance to Roman politicians. It is just one example of the endless variations of torture that the human mind has devised over the millennia, many of them common enough to have become words in our lexicon: to crucify, to draw and quarter, to flay, to press, to stone; the garrote, the rack, the stake, the thumbscrew. Dostoevsky's Ivan Karamazov, learning of the atrocities committed by the Turks in Bulgaria, said, “No animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.” The annual reports of Amnesty International show that artistic cruelty is by no means a thing of the past.

~

The reduction of violence on scales large and small is one of our greatest moral concerns. We ought to use every intellectual tool available to understand what it is about the human mind and human social arrangements that leads people to hurt and kill so much. But as with the other moral concerns examined in this part of the book, the effort to figure out what is going on has been hijacked by an effort to legislate the correct answer. In the case of violence, the correct answer is that violence has nothing to do with human nature but is a pathology inflicted by malign elements outside us. Violence is a behavior taught by the culture, or an infectious disease endemic to certain environments.

This hypothesis has become the central dogma of a secular faith, repeatedly avowed in public proclamations like a daily prayer or pledge of allegiance. Recall Ashley Montagu's UNESCO resolution that biology supports an ethic of “universal brotherhood” and the anthropologists who believed that “nonviolence and peace were likely the norm throughout most of human prehistory.” In the 1980s, many social science organizations endorsed the Seville  {308}  Statement, which declared that it is “scientifically incorrect” to say that humans have a “violent brain” or have undergone selection for violence.⁸ “War is not an instinct but an invention,” wrote Ortega y Gasset, paralleling his claim that man has no nature but only history.⁹ A recent United Nations Declaration on the Elimination of Violence Against Women announced that “violence is part of an historical process, and is not natural or born of biological determinism.” A 1999 ad by the National Funding Collaborative on Violence Prevention declared that “violence is learned behavior.”¹⁰

Another sign of this faith-based approach to violence is the averred certainty that particular environmental explanations are correct. We know the causes of violence, it is repeatedly said, and we also know how to eliminate it. Only a failure of commitment has prevented us from doing so. Remember Lyndon Johnson saying that “all of us know” that the conditions that breed violence are ignorance, discrimination, poverty, and disease. A 1997 article on violence in a popular science magazine quoted a clinical geneticist who echoed LBJ:

We know what causes violence in our society: poverty, discrimination, the failure of our educational system. It's not the genes that cause violence in our society. It's our social system.¹¹

The authors of the article, the historians Betty and Daniel Kevles, agreed:

We need better education, nutrition, and intervention in dysfunctional homes and in the lives of abused children, perhaps to the point of removing them from the control of their incompetent parents. But such responses would be expensive and socially controversial.¹²

The creed that violence is learned behavior often points to particular elements of American culture as the cause. A member of a toy-monitoring group recently told a reporter, “Violence is a learned behavior; Every toy is educational. The question is, what do you want your children to learn?”¹³ Media violence is another usual suspect. As two public health experts recently wrote:

The reality is that children learn to value and use violence to solve their problems and deal with strong feelings. They learn it from role models in their families and communities. They learn it from the heroes we put in front of them on television, the movies, and video games.¹⁴

Childhood abuse, recently implicated in Richard Rhodes's Why They Kill, is a third putative cause. “The tragedy is that people who have been victimized  {309}  often become victimizers themselves,” said the president of the Criminal Justice Policy Foundation. “It's a cycle we could break, but it involves some expense. As a society, we haven't put our resources there.”¹⁵ Note in these statements the mouthing of the creed (“Violence is a learned behavior”), the certainty that it is true (“The reality is”), and the accusation that we suffer from a lack of commitment (“We haven't put our resources there”) rather than an ignorance of how to solve the problem.

Many explanations blame “culture,” conceived as a superorganism that teaches, issues commands, and doles out rewards and punishments. A Boston Globe columnist must have been oblivious to the circularity of his reasoning when he wrote:

So why is America more violent than other industrialized Western democracies? It's our cultural predisposition to violence. We pummel each other, maul each other, stab each other and shoot each other because it's our cultural imperative to do so.¹⁶

When culture is seen as an entity with beliefs and desires, the beliefs and desires of actual people are unimportant. After Timothy McVeigh blew up a federal office building in Oklahoma City in 1995, killing 168 people, the journalist Alfie Kohn ridiculed Americans who “yammer about individual responsibility” and attributed the bombing to American individualism: “We have a cultural addiction to competition in this country. We're taught in classrooms and playing fields that other people are obstacles to our own success.”¹⁷ A related explanation for the bombing put the blame on American symbols, such as the arrow-clutching eagle on the national seal, and state mottoes, including “Live Free or Die” (New Hampshire) and “With the sword, we seek peace, but under liberty” (Massachusetts).¹⁸

A popular recent theory attributes American violence to a toxic and peculiarly American conception of maleness inculcated in childhood. The social psychologist Alice Eagly explained sprees of random shootings by saying, “This sort of behavior has been part of the male role as it has been construed in US culture, from the frontier tradition on.”¹⁹ According to the theory, popularized in bestsellers like Dan Kindlon's Raising Cain and William Pollack's Real Boys, we are going through a “national crisis of boyhood in America,” caused by the fact that boys are forced to separate from their mothers and stifle their emotions. “What's the matter with men?” asked an article in the Boston Globe Magazine. “Violent behavior, emotional distance, and higher rates of drug addiction can't be explained by hormones,” it answers. “The problem, experts say, is cultural beliefs about masculinity — everything packed into the phrase ‘a real man.’ “²⁰  {310} 

~

The statement that “violence is learned behavior” is a mantra repeated by right-thinking people to show that they believe that violence should be reduced. It is not based on any sound research. The sad fact is that despite the repeated assurances that “we know the conditions that breed violence,” we barely have a clue. Wild swings in crime rates — up in the 1960s and late 1980s, down in the late 1990s — continue to defy any simple explanation. And the usual suspects for understanding violence are completely unproven and sometimes patently false. This is most blatant in the case of factors like “nutrition” and “disease” that are glibly thrown into lists of the social ills that allegedly bring on violence. There is no evidence, to put it mildly, that violence is caused by a vitamin deficiency or a bacterial infection. But the other putative causes suffer from a lack of evidence as well.

Aggressive parents often have aggressive children, but people who conclude that aggression is learned from parents in a “cycle of violence” never consider the possibility that violent tendencies could be inherited as well as learned. Unless one looks at adopted children and shows that they act more like their adoptive parents than like their biological parents, cycles of violence prove nothing. Similarly, the psychologists who note that men commit more acts of violence than women and then blame it on a culture of masculinity are wearing intellectual blinkers that keep them from noticing that men and women differ in their biology as well as in their social roles. American children are exposed to violent role models, of course, but they are also exposed to clowns, preachers, folk singers, and drag queens; the question is why children find some people more worthy of imitation than others.

To show that violence is caused by special themes of American culture, a bare minimum of evidence would be a correlation in which the cultures that have those themes also tend to be more violent. Even that correlation, if it existed, would not prove that the cultural themes cause the violence rather than the other way around. But there may be no such correlation in the first place.

To begin with, American culture is not uniquely violent. All societies have violence, and America is not the most violent one in history or even in today's world. Most countries in the Third World, and many of the former republics of the Soviet Union, are considerably more violent, and they have nothing like the American tradition of individualism.²¹ As for cultural norms of masculinity and sexism, Spain has its machismo, Italy its braggadocio, and Japan its rigid gender roles, yet their homicide rates are a fraction of that of the more feminist-influenced United States. The archetype of a masculine hero prepared to use violence in a just cause is one of the most common motifs in mythology, and it can be found in many cultures with relatively low rates of violent crime. James Bond, for example — who actually has a license to kill — is British, and martial arts films are popular in many industrialized Asian  {311}  countries. In any case, only a bookworm who has never actually seen an American movie or television program could believe that they glorify murderous fanatics like Timothy McVeigh or teenagers who randomly shoot classmates in high school cafeterias. Masculine heroes in the mass media are highly moralistic: they fight bad guys.

Among conservative politicians and liberal health professionals alike it is an article of faith that violence in the media is a major cause of American violent crime. The American Medical Association, the American Psychological Association, and the American Academy of Pediatrics testified before Congress that over 3,500 studies had investigated the connection and only 18 failed to find one. Any social scientist can smell fishy numbers here, and the psychologist Jonathan Freedman decided to look for himself. In fact, only two hundred studies have looked for a connection between media violence and violent behavior, and more than half failed to find one.²² The others found correlations that are small and readily explainable in other ways — for example, that violent children seek out violent entertainment, and that children are temporarily aroused (but not permanently affected) by action-packed footage. Freedman and several other psychologists who have reviewed the literature have concluded that exposure to media violence has little or no effect on violent behavior in the world.²³ Reality checks from recent history suggest the same thing. People were more violent in the centuries before television and movies were invented. Canadians watch the same television shows as Americans but have a fourth their homicide rate. When the British colony of St. Helena installed television for the first time in 1995, its people did not become more violent.²⁴ Violent computer games took off in the 1990s, a time when crime rates plummeted.

What about the other usual suspects? Guns, discrimination, and poverty play a role in violence, but in no case is it a simple or decisive one. Guns surely make it easier for people to kill, and harder for them to de-escalate a fight before a death occurs, and thus multiply the lethality of conflicts large and small. Nonetheless, many societies had sickening rates of violence before guns were invented, and people do not automatically kill one another just because they have access to guns. The Israelis and Swiss are armed to the teeth but have low rates of violent personal crime, and among American states, Maine and North Dakota have the lowest homicide rates but almost every home has a gun.²⁵ The idea that guns increase lethal crime, though certainly plausible, has been so difficult to prove that in 1998 the legal scholar John Lott published a book of statistical analyses with a title that flaunts the opposite conclusion: More Guns, Less Crime. Even if he is wrong, as I suspect he is, it is not so easy to show that more guns mean more crime.

As for discrimination and poverty, again it is hard to show a direct cause-and-effect relationship. Chinese immigrants to California in the nineteenth  {312}  century and Japanese-Americans in World War II faced severe discrimination, but they did not react with high rates of violence. Women are poorer than men and are more likely to need money to feed children, but they are less likely to steal things by force. Different subcultures that are equally impoverished can vary radically in their rates of violence, and as we shall see, in many cultures relatively affluent men can be quick to use lethal force.²⁶ Though no one could object to a well-designed program that was shown to reduce crime, one cannot simply blame crime rates on a lack of commitment to social programs. These programs first flourished in the 1960s, the decade in which rates of violent crime skyrocketed.

Scientifically oriented researchers on violence chant a different mantra: “Violence is a public health problem.” According to the National Institute of Mental Health, “Violent behavior can best be understood — and prevented — if it is attacked as if it were a contagious disease that flourishes in vulnerable individuals and resource-poor neighborhoods.” The public health theory has been echoed by many professional organizations, such as the American Psychological Society and the Centers for Disease Control, and by political figures as diverse as the surgeon general in the Clinton administration and the Republican senator Arlen Specter.²⁷ The public health approach tries to identify “risk factors” that are more common in poor neighborhoods than affluent ones. They include neglect and abuse in childhood, harsh and inconsistent discipline, divorce, malnutrition, lead poisoning, head injuries, untreated attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, and the use of alcohol and crack cocaine during pregnancy.

Researchers in this tradition are proud that their approach is both “biological” — they measure bodily fluids and take pictures of the brain — and “cultural” — they look for environmental causes of the brain conditions that might be ameliorated by the equivalent of public health measures. Unfortunately, there is a rather glaring flaw in the whole analogy. A good definition of a disease or disorder is that it consists of suffering experienced by an individual because of a malfunction of a mechanism in the individual's body.²⁸ But as a writer for Science recently pointed out, “Unlike most diseases, it's usually not the perpetrator who defines aggression as a problem; it's the environment. Violent people may feel they are functioning normally, and some may even enjoy their occasional outbursts and resist treatment.”²⁹ Other than the truism that violence is more common in some people and places than others, the public health theory has little to recommend it. As we shall see, violence is not a disease in anything like the medical sense.

~

Pure environmental theories of violence remain an article of faith because they embody the Blank Slate and the Noble Savage. Violence, according to these theories, isn't a natural strategy in the human repertoire; it's learned  {313}  behavior, or poisoning by a toxic substance, or the symptom of an infectious illness. In earlier chapters we saw the moral appeal of such doctrines: to differentiate the doctrine-holders from jingoists of earlier periods and ruffians of different classes; to reassure audiences that they do not think violence is “natural” in the sense of “good”; to express an optimism that violence can be eliminated, particularly by benign social programs rather than punitive deterrence; to stay miles away from the radioactive position that some individuals, classes, or races are innately more violent than others.

Most of all, the learned-behavior and public health theories are moral declarations, public avowals that the declarer is opposed to violence. Condemning violence is all to the good, of course, but not if it is disguised as an empirical claim about our psychological makeup. Perhaps the purest example of this wishful confusion comes from Ramsey Clark, attorney general in the Johnson administration and the author of the 1970 bestseller Crime in America. In arguing that the criminal justice system should replace punishment with rehabilitation, Clark explained:

The theory of rehabilitation is based on the belief that healthy, rational people will not injure others, that they will understand that the individual and his society are best served by conduct that does not inflict injury, and that a just society has the ability to provide health and purpose and opportunity for all its citizens. Rehabilitated, an individual will not have the capacity — cannot bring himself — to injure another or take or destroy property.³⁰

Would that it were so! This theory is a fine example of the moralistic fallacy: it would be so nice if the idea were true that we should all believe that it is true. The problem is that it is not true. History has shown that plenty of healthy, rational people can bring themselves to injure others and destroy property because, tragically, an individual's interests sometimes are served by hurting others (especially if criminal penalties for hurting others are eliminated, an irony that Clark seems to have missed). Conflicts of interest are inherent to the human condition, and as Martin Daly and Margo Wilson point out, “Killing one's adversary is the ultimate conflict resolution technique.”³¹

Admittedly, it is easy to equate health and rationality with morality. The metaphors pervade the English language, as when we call an evildoer crazy, degenerate, depraved, deranged, mad, malignant, psycho, sick, or twisted. But the metaphors are bound to mislead us when we contemplate the causes of violence and ways to reduce it. Termites are not malfunctioning when they eat the wooden beams in houses, nor are mosquitoes when they bite a victim and spread the malaria parasite. They are doing exactly what evolution designed them to do, even if the outcome makes people suffer. For scientists to moralize  {314}  about these creatures or call their behavior pathological would only send us all down blind alleys, such as a search for the “toxic” influences on these creatures or a “cure” that would restore them to health. For the same reason, human violence does not have to be a disease for it to be worth combating. If anything, it is the belief that violence is an aberration that is dangerous, because it lulls us into forgetting how easily violence may erupt in quiescent places.

The Blank Slate and the Noble Savage owe their support not just to their moral appeal but to enforcement by ideology police. The blood libel against Napoleon Chagnon for documenting warfare among the Yanomamö is the most lurid example of the punishment of heretics, but it is not the only one. In 1992 a Violence Initiative in the Alcohol, Drug Abuse, and Mental Health Administration was canceled because of false accusations that the research aimed to sedate inner-city youth and to stigmatize them as genetically prone to violence. (In fact, it advocated the public health approach.) A conference and book on the legal and moral issues surrounding the biology of violence, which was to include advocates of all viewpoints, was canceled by Bernadine Healey, director of the National Institutes of Health, who overruled a unanimous peer-review decision because of concerns “associated with the sensitivity and validity of the proposed conference.”³² The university sponsoring the conference appealed and won, but when the conference was held three years later, protesters invaded the hall and, as if to provide material for comedians, began a shoving match with the participants.³³

What was everyone so sensitive about? The stated fear was that the government would define political unrest in response to inequitable social conditions as a psychiatric disease and silence the protesters by drugging them or worse. The radical psychiatrist Peter Breggin called the Violence Initiative “the most terrifying, most racist, most hideous thing imaginable” and “the kind of plan one would associate with Nazi Germany.”³⁴ The reasons included “the medicalization of social issues, the declaration that the victim of oppression, in this case the Jew, is in fact a genetically and biologically defective person, the mobilization of the state for eugenic purposes and biological purposes, the heavy use of psychiatry in the development of social-control programs.”³⁵ This is a fanciful, indeed paranoid, reading, but Breggin has tirelessly repeated it, especially to African American politicians and media outlets. Anyone using the words “violence” and “biology” in the same paragraph may be put under a cloud of suspicion for racism, and this has affected the intellectual climate regarding violence. No one has ever gotten into trouble for saying that violence is completely learned.

~

There are many reasons to believe that violence in humans is not literally a sickness or poisoning but part of our design. Before presenting them, let me allay two fears.  {315} 

The first fear is that examining the roots of violence in human nature consists of reducing violence to the bad genes of violent individuals, with the unsavory implication that ethnic groups with higher rates of violence must have more of these genes.

There can be little doubt that some individuals are constitutionally more prone to violence than others. Take men, for starters: across cultures, men kill men twenty to forty times more often than women kill women.³⁶ And the lion's share of the killers are young men, between the ages of fifteen and thirty.³⁷ Some young men, moreover, are more violent than others. According to one estimate, 7 percent of young men commit 79 percent of repeated violent offenses.³⁸ Psychologists find that individuals prone to violence have a distinctive personality profile. They tend to be impulsive, low in intelligence, hyperactive, and attention-deficient. They are described as having an “oppositional temperament”: they are vindictive, easily angered, resistant to control, deliberately annoying, and likely to blame everything on other people.³⁹ The most callous among them are psychopaths, people who lack a conscience, and they make up a substantial percentage of murderers.⁴⁰ These traits emerge in early childhood, persist through the lifespan, and are largely heritable, though nowhere near completely so.

Sadists, hotheads, and other natural-born killers are part of the problem of violence, not just because of the harm they wreak but because of the aggressive posture they force others into for deterrence and self-defense. But my point here is that they are not the major part of the problem. Wars start and stop, crime rates yo-yo, societies go from militant to pacifist or vice versa within a generation, all without any change in the frequencies of the local genes. Though ethnic groups differ today in their average rates of violence, the differences do not call for a genetic explanation, because the rate for a group at one historical period may be matched to that of any other group at another period. Today's docile Scandinavians descended from bloodthirsty Vikings, and Africa, wracked by war after the fall of colonialism, is much like Europe after the fall of the Roman Empire. Any ethnic group that has made it into the present probably had pugnacious ancestors in the not-too-distant past.

The second fear is that if people are endowed with violent motives, they can't help being violent, or must be violent all the time, like the Tasmanian Devil in Looney Tunes who tears through an area leaving a swath of destruction in his wake. This fear is a reaction to archaic ideas of killer apes, a thirst for blood, a death wish, a territorial imperative, and a violent brain. In fact, if the brain is equipped with strategies for violence, they are contingent strategies, connected to complicated circuitry that computes when and where they should be deployed. Animals deploy aggression in highly selective ways, and humans, whose limbic systems are enmeshed with outsize frontal lobes, are of  {316}  course even more calculating. Most people today live their adult lives without ever pressing their violence buttons.

So what is the evidence that our species may have evolved mechanisms for discretionary violence? The first thing to keep in mind is that aggression is an organized, goal-directed activity, not the kind of event that could come from a random malfunction. If your lawnmower continued to run after you released the handle and it injured your foot, you might suspect a sticky switch or other breakdown. But if the lawnmower lay in wait until you emerged from the garage and then chased you around the yard, you would have to conclude that someone had installed a chip that programmed it to do so.

The presence of deliberate chimpicide in our chimpanzee cousins raises the possibility that the forces of evolution, not just the idiosyncrasies of a particular human culture, prepared us for violence. And the ubiquity of violence in human societies throughout history and prehistory is a stronger hint that we are so prepared.

When we look at human bodies and brains, we find more direct signs of design for aggression. The larger size, strength, and upper-body mass of men is a zoological giveaway of an evolutionary history of violent male-male competition.⁴¹ Other signs include the effects of testosterone on dominance and violence (which we will encounter in the chapter on gender), the emotion of anger (complete with reflexive baring of the canine teeth and clenching of the fists), the revealingly named fight-or-flight response of the autonomic nervous system, and the fact that disruptions of inhibitory systems of the brain (by alcohol, damage to the frontal lobe or amygdala, or defective genes involved in serotonin metabolism) can lead to aggressive attacks, initiated by circuits in the limbic system.⁴²

Boys in all cultures spontaneously engage in rough-and-tumble play, which is obviously practice for fighting. They also divide themselves into coalitions that compete aggressively (calling to mind the remark attributed to the Duke of Wellington that “the Battle of Waterloo was won upon the playing fields of Eton”) .⁴³ And children are violent well before they have been infected by war toys or cultural stereotypes. The most violent age is not adolescence but toddlerhood: in a recent large study, almost half the boys just past the age of two, and a slightly smaller percentage of the girls, engaged in hitting, biting, and kicking. As the author pointed out, “Babies do not kill each other, because we do not give them access to knives and guns. The question ... we've been trying to answer for the past 30 years is how do children learn to aggress. [But] that's the wrong question. The right question is how do they learn not to aggress.”⁴⁴

Violence continues to preoccupy the mind throughout life. According to independent surveys in several countries by the psychologists Douglas Kenrick and David Buss, more than 80 percent of women and 90 percent of men  {317}  fantasize about killing people they don't like, especially romantic rivals, stepparents, and people who have humiliated them in public.⁴⁵ People in all cultures take pleasure in thinking about killings, if we are to judge by the popularity of murder mysteries, crime dramas, spy thrillers, Shakespearean tragedies, biblical stories, hero myths, and epic poems. (A character in Tom Stoppard's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead asks, “You're familiar with the great tragedies of antiquity, are you? The great homicidal classics?”) People also enjoy watching the stylized combat we call “sports,” which are contests of aiming, chasing, or fighting, complete with victors and the vanquished. If language is a guide, many other efforts are conceptualized as forms of aggression: intellectual argument (to shoot down, defeat, or destroy an idea or its proponent), social reform (to fight crime, to combat prejudice, the War on Poverty, the War on Drugs), and medical treatment (to fight cancer, painkillers, to defeat AIDS, the War on Cancer).

In fact, the entire question of what went wrong (socially or biologically) when a person engages in violence is badly posed. Almost everyone recognizes the need for violence in defense of self, family, and innocent victims. Moral philosophers point out that there are even circumstances in which torture is justified — say, when a captured terrorist has planted a time bomb in a crowded place and refuses to say where it is. More generally, whether a violent mindset is called heroic or pathological often depends on whose ox has been gored. Freedom fighter or terrorist, Robin Hood or thief, Guardian Angel or vigilante, nobleman or warlord, martyr or kamikaze, general or gang leader — these are value judgments, not scientific classifications. I doubt that the brains or genes of most of the lauded protagonists would differ from those of their vilified counterparts.

In this way I find myself in agreement with the radical scientists who insist that we will never understand violence by looking only at the genes or brains of violent people. Violence is a social and political problem, not just a biological and psychological one. Nonetheless, the phenomena we call “social” and “political” are not external happenings that mysteriously affect human affairs like sunspots; they are shared understandings among individuals at a given time and place. So one cannot understand violence without a thorough understanding of the human mind.

In the rest of this chapter I explore the logic of violence, and why emotions and thoughts devoted to it may have evolved. This is necessary to disentangle the knot of biological and cultural causes that make violence so puzzling. It can help explain why people are prepared for violence but act on those inclinations only in particular circumstances; when violence is, at least in some sense, rational and when it is blatantly self-defeating; why violence is more prevalent in some times and places than in others, despite a lack of any genetic difference among the actors; and, ultimately, how we might reduce and prevent violence.  {318} 

~

The first step in understanding violence is to set aside our abhorrence of it long enough to examine why it can sometimes pay off in personal or evolutionary terms. This requires one to invert the statement of the problem — not why violence occurs, but why it is avoided. Morality, after all, did not enter the universe with the Big Bang and then pervade it like background radiation. It was discovered by our ancestors after billions of years of the morally indifferent process known as natural selection.

In my view, the consequences of this background amorality were best worked out by Hobbes in Leviathan. Unfortunately, Hobbes's pithy phrase “nasty, brutish, and short” and his image of an all-powerful leviathan keeping us from each other's throats have led people to misunderstand his argument. Hobbes is commonly interpreted as proposing that man in a state of nature was saddled with an irrational impulse for hatred and destruction. In fact his analysis is more subtle, and perhaps even more tragic, for he showed how the dynamics of violence fall out of interactions among rational and self-interested agents. Hobbes's analysis has been rediscovered by evolutionary biology, game theory, and social psychology, and I will use it to organize my discussion of the logic of violence before turning to the ways in which humans deploy peaceable instincts to counteract their violent ones.

Here is the analysis that preceded the famous “life of man” passage:

So that in the nature of man, we find three principal causes of quarrel. First, competition; secondly, diffidence; thirdly, glory. The first maketh men invade for gain; the second, for safety; and the third, for reputation. The first use violence, to make themselves masters of other men's persons, wives, children, and cattle; the second, to defend them; the third, for trifles, as a word, a smile, a different opinion, and any other sign of undervalue, either direct in their persons or by reflection in their kindred, their friends, their nation, their profession, or their name.⁴⁶

First, competition. Natural selection is powered by competition, which means that the products of natural selection — survival machines, in Richard Dawkins's metaphor — should, by default, do whatever helps them survive and reproduce. He explains:

To a survival machine, another survival machine (which is not its own child or another close relative) is part of its environment, like a rock or a river or a lump of food. It is something that gets in the way, or something that can be exploited. It differs from a rock or a river in one important respect: it is inclined to hit back. This is because it too is a machine that holds its immortal genes in trust for the future, and it too  {319}  will stop at nothing to preserve them. Natural selection favors genes that control their survival machines in such a way that they make the best use of their environment. This includes making the best use of other survival machines, both of the same and of different species.⁴⁷

If an obstacle stands in the way of something an organism needs, it should neutralize the obstacle by disabling or eliminating it. This includes obstacles that happen to be other human beings — say, ones that are monopolizing desirable land or sources of food. Even among modern nation-states, raw self-interest is a major motive for war. The political scientist Bruce Bueno de Mesquita analyzed the instigators of 251 real-world conflicts of the past two centuries and concluded that in most cases the aggressor correctly calculated that a successful invasion would be in its national interest.⁴⁸

Another human obstacle consists of men who are monopolizing women who could otherwise be taken as wives. Hobbes called attention to the phenomenon without knowing the evolutionary reason, which was provided centuries later by Robert Trivers: the difference in the minimal parental investments of males and females makes the reproductive capacity of females a scarce commodity over which males compete.⁴⁹ This explains why men are the violent gender, and also why they always have something to fight over, even when their survival needs have been met. Studies of warfare in pre-state societies have confirmed that men do not have to be short of food or land to wage war.⁵⁰ They often raid other villages to abduct women, to retaliate for past abductions, or to defend their interests in disputes over exchanges of women for marriage. In societies in which women have more say in the matter, men still compete for women by competing for the status and wealth that tend to attract them. The competition can be violent because, as Daly and Wilson point out, “Any creature that is recognizably on track toward complete reproductive failure must somehow expend effort, often at risk of death, to try to improve its present life trajectory.”⁵¹ Impoverished young men on this track are therefore likely to risk life and limb to improve their chances in the sweepstakes for status, wealth, and mates.⁵² In all societies they are the demographic sector in which the firebrands, delinquents, and cannon fodder are concentrated. One of the reasons the crime rate shot up in the 1960s is that boys from the baby boom began to enter their crime-prone years.⁵³ Though there are many reasons why countries differ in their willingness to wage war, one factor is simply the proportion of the population that consists of men between the ages of fifteen and twenty-nine.⁵⁴

This whole cynical analysis may not ring true to modern readers, because we cannot think of other people as mere parts of our environment that may have to be neutralized like weeds in a garden. Unless we are psychopaths, we sympathize with other people and cannot blithely treat them as obstacles or  {320}  prey. Such sympathy, however, has not prevented people from committing all manner of atrocities throughout history and prehistory. The contradiction may be resolved by recalling that people discern a moral circle that may not embrace all human beings but only the members of their clan, village, or tribe.⁵⁵ Inside the circle, fellow humans are targets of sympathy; outside, they are treated like a rock or a river or a lump of food. In a previous book I mentioned that the language of the Wari people of the Amazon has a set of noun classifiers that distinguish edible from inedible objects, and that the edible class includes anyone who is not a member of the tribe. This prompted the psychologist Judith Rich Harris to observe:

Cannibalism is so repugnant to us that for years even anthropologists failed to admit that it was common in prehistory. It is easy to think: could other human beings really be capable of such a depraved act? But of course animal rights activists have a similarly low opinion of meat eaters, who not only cause millions of preventable deaths but do so with utter callousness: castrating and branding cattle without an anesthetic, impaling fish by the mouth and letting them suffocate in the hold of a boat, boiling lobsters alive. My point is not to make a moral case for vegetarianism but to shed light on the mindset of human violence and cruelty. History and ethnography suggest that people can treat strangers the way we now treat lobsters, and our incomprehension of such deeds may be compared with animal rights activists’ incomprehension of ours. It is no coincidence that Peter Singer, the author of The Expanding Circle, is also the author of Animal Liberation.

The observation that people may be morally indifferent to other people who are outside a mental circle immediately suggests an opening for the effort to reduce violence: understand the psychology of the circle well enough to encourage people to put all of humanity inside it. In earlier chapters we saw how the moral circle has been growing for millennia, pushed outward by the expanding networks of reciprocity that make other human beings more valuable alive than dead.⁵⁶ As Robert Wright has put it, “Among the many reasons I don't think we should bomb the Japanese is that they built my minivan.” Other technologies have contributed to a cosmopolitan view that makes it easy to imagine trading places with other people. These include literacy, travel, a knowledge of history, and realistic art that helps people project themselves into the daily lives of people who in other times might have been their mortal enemies.

We have also seen how the circle can shrink. Recall that Jonathan Glover  {321}  showed that atrocities are often accompanied by tactics of dehumanization such as the use of pejorative names, degrading conditions, humiliating dress, and “cold jokes” that make light of suffering.⁵⁷ These tactics can flip a mental switch and reclassify an individual from “person” to “nonperson,” making it as easy for someone to torture or kill him as it is for us to boil a lobster alive. (Those who poke fun at politically correct names for ethnic minorities, including me, should keep in mind that they originally had a humane rationale.) The social psychologist Philip Zimbardo has shown that even among the students of an elite university, tactics of dehumanization can easily push one person outside another's moral circle. Zimbardo created a mock prison in the basement of the Stanford University psychology department and randomly assigned students to the role of prisoner or guard. The “prisoners” had to wear smocks, leg irons, and nylon-stocking caps and were referred to by serial numbers. Before long the “guards” began to brutalize them — standing on their backs while they did push-ups, spraying them with fire extinguishers, forcing them to clean toilets with their bare hands — and Zimbardo called off the experiment for the subjects’ safety.⁵⁸

In the other direction, signs of a victim's humanity can occasionally break through and flip the switch back to the sympathy setting. When George Orwell fought in the Spanish Civil War, he once saw a man running for his life half-dressed, holding up his pants with one hand. “I refrained from shooting at him,” Orwell wrote. “I did not shoot partly because of that detail about the trousers. I had come here to shoot at ‘Fascists'; but a man who is holding up his trousers isn't a ‘Fascist,’ he is visibly a fellow creature, similar to your self.”⁵⁹ Glover recounts another example, reported by a South African journalist:

In 1985, in the old apartheid South Africa, there was a demonstration in Durban. The police attacked the demonstrators with customary violence. One policeman chased a black woman, obviously intending to beat her with his club. As she ran, her shoe slipped off. The brutal policeman was also a well-brought-up young Afrikaner, who knew that when a woman loses her shoe you pick it up for her. Their eyes met as he handed her the shoe. He then left her, since clubbing her was no longer an option.⁶⁰

We should not, however, delude ourselves into thinking that the reaction of Orwell (one of the twentieth century's greatest moral voices) and of the “well-brought-up” Afrikaner is typical. Many intellectuals believe that the majority of soldiers cannot bring themselves to fire their weapons in battle. The claim is incredible on the face of it, given the tens of millions of soldiers who were shot in the wars of the last century. (I am reminded of the professor in Stoppard's Jumpers who noted that Zeno's Paradox prevents an arrow from  {322}  ever reaching its target, so Saint Sebastian must have died of fright.) The belief turns out to be traceable to a single, dubious study of infantrymen in World War II. In follow-up interviews, the men denied having even been asked whether they had fired their weapons, let alone having claimed they hadn't.⁶¹ Recent surveys of soldiers in battle and of rioters in ethnic massacres find that they often kill with gusto, sometimes in a state they describe as “joy” or “ecstasy.”⁶²

Glover's anecdotes reinforce the hope that people are capable of putting strangers inside a violence-proof moral circle. But they also remind us that the default setting may be to keep them out.

~

Secondly, diffidence, in its original sense of “distrust.” Hobbes had translated Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War and was struck by his observation that “what made war inevitable was the growth of Athenian power and the fear which this caused in Sparta.” If you have neighbors, they may covet what you have, in which case you have become an obstacle to their desires. Therefore you must be prepared to defend yourself. Defense is an iffy matter even with technologies such as castle walls, the Maginot Line, or antiballistic missile defenses, and it is even iffier without them. The only option for self-protection may be to wipe out potentially hostile neighbors first in a preemptive strike. As Yogi Berra advised, “The best defense is a good offense and vice versa.”

Tragically, you might arrive at this conclusion even if you didn't have an aggressive bone in your body. All it would take is the realization that others might covet what you have and a strong desire not to be massacred. Even more tragically, your neighbors have every reason to be cranking through the same deduction, and if they are, it makes your fears all the more compelling, which makes a preemptive strike all the more tempting, which makes a preemptive strike by them all the more tempting, and so on.

This “Hobbesian trap,” as it is now called, is a ubiquitous cause of violent conflict.⁶³ The political scientist Thomas Schelling offered the analogy of an armed homeowner who surprises an armed burglar. Each might be tempted to shoot first to avoid being shot, even if neither wanted to kill the other. A Hobbesian trap pitting one man against another is a recurring theme in fiction, such as the desperado in Hollywood westerns, spy-versus-spy plots in cold-war thrillers, and the lyrics to Bob Marley's “I Shot the Sheriff.”

But because we are a social species, Hobbesian traps more commonly pit groups against groups. There is safety in numbers, so humans, bound by shared genes or reciprocal promises, form coalitions for protection. Unfortunately, the logic of the Hobbesian trap means there is also danger in numbers, because neighbors may fear they are becoming outnumbered and form alliances in their turn to contain the growing menace. Since one man's  {323}  containment is another man's encirclement, this can send the spiral of danger upward. Human sociality is the original “entangling alliance,” in which two parties with no prior animus can find themselves at war when the ally of one attacks the ally of the other. It is the reason I discuss homicide and war in a single chapter. In a species whose members form bonds of loyalty, the first can easily turn into the second.

The danger is particularly acute for humans because, unlike most mammals, we tend to be patrilocal, with related males living together instead of dispersing from the group when they become sexually mature.⁶⁴ (Among chimpanzees and dolphins, related males also live together, and they too form aggressive coalitions.) What we call “ethnic groups” are very large extended families, and though in a modern ethnic group the family ties are too distant for kin-based altruism to be significant, this was not true of the smaller coalitions in which we evolved. Even today ethnic groups often perceive themselves as large families, and the role of ethnic loyalties in group-against-group violence is all too obvious.⁶⁵

The other distinctive feature of Homo sapiens as a species is, of course, toolmaking. Competitiveness can channel toolmaking into weaponry, and diffidence can channel weaponry into an arms race. An arms race, like an alliance, can make war more likely by accelerating the spiral of fear and distrust. Our species’ vaunted ability to make tools is one of the reasons we are so good at killing one another.

The vicious circle of a Hobbesian trap can help us understand why the escalation from friction to war (and occasionally, the de-escalation to detente) can happen so suddenly. Mathematicians and computer simulators have devised models in which several players acquire arms or form alliances in response to what the other players are doing. The models often display chaotic behavior, in which small differences in the values of the parameters can have large and unpredictable consequences.⁶⁶

As we can infer from Hobbes's allusion to the Peloponnesian War, Hobbesian traps among groups are far from hypothetical. Chagnon describes how Yanomamö villages obsess over the danger of being massacred by other villages (with good reason) and occasionally engage in preemptive assaults, giving other villages good reason to engage in their own preemptive assaults, and prompting groups of villages to form alliances that make their neighbors ever more nervous.⁶⁷ Street gangs and Mafia families engage in similar machinations. In the past century, World War I, the Six-Day Arab-Israeli War, and the Yugoslavian wars in the 1990s arose in part from Hobbesian traps.⁶⁸

The political scientist John Vasquez has made the point quantitatively. Using a database of hundreds of conflicts from the past two centuries, he concludes that the ingredients of a Hobbesian trap — concern with security, entangling alliances, and arms races — can statistically predict the escalation of  {324}  friction into war.⁶⁹ The most conscious playing-out of the logic of Hobbesian traps took place among nuclear strategists during the cold war, when the fate of the world literally hinged on it. The logic produced some of the maddening paradoxes of nuclear strategy: why it is extraordinarily dangerous to have enough missiles to destroy an enemy but not enough to destroy him after he has attacked those missiles (because the enemy would have a strong incentive to strike preemptively), and why erecting an impregnable defense against enemy missiles could make the world a more dangerous place (because the enemy has an incentive to launch a preemptive strike before the completed defense turns him into a sitting duck).

When a stronger group overpowers a weaker one in a surprise raid, it should come as no surprise to a Hobbesian cynic. But when one side defeats another in a battle that both have joined, the logic is not so clear. Given that both the victor and the vanquished have much to lose in a battle, one would expect each side to assess the strength of the other and the weaker to cede the contested resource without useless bloodshed that would only lead to the same outcome. Most behavioral ecologists believe that rituals of appeasement and surrender among animals evolved for this reason (and not for the good of the species, as Lorenz had supposed). Sometimes the two sides are so well matched, and the stakes of a battle are so high, that they engage in a battle because it is the only way to find out who is stronger.⁷⁰

But at other times a leader will march — or march his men — into the valley of death without any reasonable hope of prevailing. Military incompetence has long puzzled historians, and the primatologist Richard Wrangham suggests that it might grow out of the logic of bluff and self-deception.⁷¹ Convincing an adversary to avoid a battle does not depend on being stronger but on appearing stronger, and that creates an incentive to bluff and to be good at detecting bluffs. Since the most effective bluffer is the one who believes his own bluff, a limited degree of self-deception in hostile escalations can evolve. It has to be limited, because having one's bluff called can be worse than folding on the first round, but when the limits are miscalibrated and both sides go to the brink, the result can be a human disaster. The historian Barbara Tuchman has highlighted the role of self-deception in calamitous wars throughout history in her books The Guns of August (about World War I) and The March of Folly: From Troy to Vietnam.

~

A readiness to inflict a preemptive strike is a double-edged sword, because it makes one an inviting target for a preemptive strike. So people have invented, and perhaps evolved, an alternative defense: the advertised deterrence policy known as lex talionis, the law of retaliation, familiar from the biblical injunction “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”⁷² If you can credibly say to potential adversaries, “We won't attack first, but if we are attacked, we will survive  {325}  and strike back,” you remove Hobbes's first two incentives for quarrel, gain and mistrust. The policy that you will inflict as much harm on others as they inflicted on you cancels their incentive to raid for gain, and the policy that you will not strike first cancels their incentive to raid for mistrust. This is reinforced by the policy to retaliate with no more harm than they inflicted on you, because it allays the fear that you will use a flimsy pretext to justify a massive opportunistic raid.

The nuclear strategy of “Mutual Assured Destruction” is the most obvious contemporary example of the law of retaliation. But it is an explicit version of an ancient impulse, the emotion of vengeance, that may have been installed in our brains by natural selection. Daly and Wilson observe, “In societies from every corner of the world, we can read of vows to avenge a slain father or brother, and of rituals that sanctify those vows — of a mother raising her son to avenge a father who died in the avenger's infancy, of graveside vows, of drinking the deceased kinsman's blood as a covenant, or keeping his bloody garment as a relic.”⁷³ Modern states often find themselves at odds with their citizens’ craving for revenge. They prosecute vigilantes — people who “take the law into their own hands” — and, with a few recent exceptions, ignore the clamoring of crime victims and their relatives for a say in decisions to prosecute, plea-bargain, or punish.

As we saw in Chapter 10, for revenge to work as a deterrent it has to be implacable. Exacting revenge is a risky business, because if an adversary was dangerous enough to have hurt you in the first place, he is not likely to take punishment lying down. Since the damage has already been done, a coolly rational victim may not see it in his interests to retaliate. And since the aggressor can anticipate this, he could call the victim's bluff and abuse him with impunity. If, on the other hand, potential victims and their kin would be so consumed with the lust for retribution as to raise a son to avenge a slain father, drink the kinsman's blood as a covenant, and so on, an aggressor might think twice before aggressing.⁷⁴

The law of retaliation requires that the vengeance have a moralistic pretext to distinguish it from a raw assault. The avenger must have been provoked by a prior act of aggression or other injustice. Studies of feuds, wars, and ethnic violence show that the perpetrators are almost always inflamed by some grievance against their targets.⁷⁵ The danger inherent in this psychology is obvious: two sides may disagree over whether an initial act of violence was justified (perhaps as an act of self-defense, the recovery of ill-gotten gains, or retribution for an earlier offense) or was an act of unprovoked aggression. One side may count an even number of reprisals and feel that the scales of justice have been balanced, while the other side counts an odd number and feels that they still have a score to settle.⁷⁶ Self-deception may embolden each side's belief in the rectitude of its cause and make reconciliation almost impossible.  {326} 

Also necessary for vengeance to work as a deterrent is that the willingness to pursue it be made public, because the whole point of deterrence is to give would-be attackers second thoughts beforehand. And this brings us to Hobbes's final reason for quarrel.

~

Thirdly, glory — though a more accurate word would be “honor.” Hobbes's observation that men fight over “a word, a smile, a different opinion, and any other sign of undervalue” is as true now as it was in the seventeenth century. For as long as urban crime statistics have been recorded, the most frequent cause of homicide has been “argument” — what police blotters classify as “altercation of relatively trivial origin; insult, curse, jostling, etc.”⁷⁷ A Dallas homicide detective recalls, “Murders result from little ol’ arguments over nothing at all. Tempers flare. A fight starts, and somebody gets stabbed or shot. I've worked on cases where the principals had been arguing over a 10 cent record on a juke box, or over a one dollar gambling debt from a dice game.”⁷⁸

Wars between nation-states are often fought over national honor, even when the material stakes are small. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, most Americans had become disenchanted over their country's involvement in the war in Vietnam, which they thought was immoral or unwinnable or both. But rather than agreeing to withdraw American forces unconditionally, as the peace movement had advocated, a majority supported Richard Nixon and his slogan “Peace with Honor.” In practice this turned into a slow withdrawal of American troops that prolonged the military presence until 1973 at a cost of twenty thousand American lives and the lives of many more Vietnamese — and with the same outcome, defeat of the South Vietnamese government. A defense of national honor was behind other recent wars, such as the British retaking of the Falkland Islands in 1982 and the American invasion of Grenada in 1983. A ruinous 1969 war between El Salvador and Honduras began with a disputed game between their national soccer teams.

Because of the logic of deterrence, fights over personal or national honor are not as idiotic as they seem. In a hostile milieu, people and countries must advertise their willingness to retaliate against anyone who would profit at their expense, and that means maintaining a reputation for avenging any slight or trespass, no matter how small. They must make it known that, in the words of the Jim Croce song, “You don't tug on Superman's cape; you don't spit into the wind; you don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger; and you don't mess around with Jim.”

The mentality is foreign to those of us who can get Leviathan to show up by dialing 911, but that option is not always available. It was not available to people in pre-state societies, or on the frontier in the Appalachians or the Wild West, or in the remote highlands of Scotland, the Balkans, or Indochina. It is not available to people who are unwilling to bring in the police because of the  {327}  nature of their work, such as Prohibition rum-runners, inner-city drug dealers, and Mafia wise guys. And it is not available to nation-states in their dealings with one another. Daly and Wilson comment on the mentality that applies in all these arenas:

In chronically feuding and warring societies, an essential manly virtue is the capacity for violence; head-hunting and coup counting may then become prestigious, and the commission of a homicide may even be an obligatory rite of passage. To turn the other cheek is not saintly but stupid. Or contemptibly weak.⁷⁹

So the social constructionists I cited earlier are not wrong in pointing to a culture of combative masculinity as a major cause of violence. But they are wrong in thinking that it is peculiarly American, that it is caused by separation from one's mother or an unwillingness to express one's emotions, and that it is an arbitrary social construction that can be “deconstructed” by verbal commentary. And fans of the public health approach are correct that rates of violence vary with social conditions, but they are wrong in thinking that violence is a pathology in anything like the medical sense. Cultures of honor spring up all over the world because they amplify universal human emotions like pride, anger, revenge, and the love of kith and kin, and because they appear at the time to be sensible responses to local conditions.⁸⁰ Indeed, the emotions themselves are thoroughly familiar even when they don't erupt in violence, such as in road rage, office politics, political mudslinging, academic backstabbing, and email flame wars.

In Culture of Honor, the social psychologists Richard Nisbett and Dov Cohen show that violent cultures arise in societies that are beyond the reach of the law and in which precious assets are easily stolen.⁸¹ Societies that herd animals meet both conditions. Herders tend to live in territories that are unsuitable for growing crops and thus far from the centers of government. And their major asset, livestock, is easier to steal than the major asset of farmers, land. In herding societies a man can be stripped of his wealth (and of his ability to acquire wealth) in an eyeblink. Men in that milieu cultivate a hair trigger for violent retaliation, not just against rustlers, but against anyone who would test their resolve by signs of disrespect that could reveal them to be easy pickings for rustlers. Scottish highlanders, Appalachian mountain men, Western cowboys, Masai warriors, Sioux Indians, Druze and Bedouin tribesmen, Balkan clansmen, and Indochinese Montagnards are familiar examples.

A man's honor is a kind of “social reality” in John Searle's sense: it exists because everyone agrees it exists, but it is no less real for that, since it resides in a shared granting of power. When the lifestyle of a people changes, their culture of honor can stay with them for a long time, because it is difficult for  {328}  anyone to be the first to renounce the culture. The very act of renouncing it can be a concession of weakness and low status even when the sheep and mountains are a distant memory.

The American South has long had higher rates of violence than the North, including a tradition of dueling among “men of honor” such as Andrew Jackson. Nisbett and Cohen note that much of the South was originally settled by Scottish and Irish herdsman, whereas the North was settled by English farmers. Also, for much of its history the mountainous frontier of the South was beyond the reach of the law. The resulting Southern culture of honor is, remarkably, alive at the turn of the twenty-first century in laws and social attitudes. Southern states place fewer restrictions on gun ownership, allow people to shoot an assailant or burglar without having to retreat first, are tolerant of spanking by parents and corporal punishment by schools, are more hawkish on issues of national defense, and execute more of their criminals.⁸²

These attitudes do not float in a cloud called “culture” but are visible in the psychology of individual Southerners. Nisbett and Cohen advertised a fake psychology experiment at the liberal University of Michigan. To get to the lab, respondents had to squeeze by a stooge who was filing papers in a hallway. As a respondent brushed past him, the stooge slammed the drawer shut and muttered, “Asshole.” Students from Northern states laughed him off, but students from Southern states were visibly upset. The Southerners had elevated levels of testosterone and cortisol (a stress hormone) and reported lower levels of self-esteem. They compensated by giving a firmer handshake and acting more dominant toward the experimenter, and on the way out of the lab they refused to back down when another stooge approached in a narrow hallway and one of the two had to step aside. It's not that Southerners walk around chronically fuming: a control group who had not been insulted were as cool and collected as the Northerners. And Southerners do not approve of violence in the abstract, only of violence provoked by an insult or trespass.

African American inner-city neighborhoods are among the more conspicuously violent environments in Western democracies, and they too have an entrenched culture of honor. In his insightful essay “The Code of the Streets,” the sociologist Elijah Anderson describes the young men's obsession with respect, their cultivation of a reputation for toughness, their willingness to engage in violent retaliation for any slight, and their universal acknowledgment of the rules of this code.⁸³ Were it not for giveaways in their dialect, such as “If someone disses you, you got to straighten them out,” Anderson's description of the code would be indistinguishable from accounts of the culture of honor among white Southerners.

Inner-city African Americans were never goatherds, so why did they develop a culture of honor? One possibility is that they brought it with them from  {329}  the South when they migrated to large cities after the two world wars — a nice irony for Southern racists who would blame inner-city violence on something distinctively African American. Another factor is that the young men's wealth is easily stealable, since it is often in the form of cash or drugs. A third is that the ghettos are a kind of frontier in which police protection is unreliable — the gangsta rap group Public Enemy has a recording called “911 Is a Joke.” A fourth is that poor people, especially young men, cannot take pride in a prestigious job, a nice house, or professional accomplishments, and this may be doubly true for African Americans after centuries of slavery and discrimination. Their reputation on the streets is their only claim to status. Finally, Anderson points out that the code of the streets is self-perpetuating. A majority of African American families in the inner city subscribe to peaceable middle-class values they refer to as “decent.”⁸⁴ But that is not enough to end the culture of honor:

Everybody knows that if the rules are violated, there are penalties. Knowledge of the code is thus largely defensive; it is literally necessary for operating in public. Therefore, even though families with a decency orientation are usually opposed to the values of the code, they often reluctantly encourage their children's familiarity with it to enable them to negotiate the inner-city environment.⁸⁵

Studies of the dynamics of ghetto violence are consistent with Anderson's analysis. The jump in American urban crime rates between 1985 and 1993 can be tied in part to the appearance of crack cocaine and the underground economy it spawned. As the economist Jeff Grogger points out, “Violence is a way to enforce property rights in the absence of legal recourse.”⁸⁶ The emergence of violence within the new drug economy then set off the expected Hobbesian trap. As the criminologist Jeffrey Fagan noted, gun use spread contagiously as “young people who otherwise wouldn't carry guns felt that they had to in order to avoid being victimized by their armed peers.”⁸⁷ And as we saw in the chapter on politics, conspicuous economic inequality is a good predictor of violence (better than poverty itself), presumably because men deprived of legitimate means of acquiring status compete for status on the streets instead.⁸⁸ It is not surprising, then, that when African American teenagers are taken out of underclass neighborhoods they are no more violent or delinquent than white teenagers.⁸⁹

~

Hobbes's analysis of the causes of violence, borne out by modern data on crime and war, shows that violence is not a primitive, irrational urge, nor is it a “pathology” except in the metaphorical sense of a condition that everyone would like to eliminate. Instead, it is a near-inevitable outcome of the dynamics of self-interested, rational social organisms.  {330} 

But Hobbes is famous for presenting not just the causes of violence but a means of preventing it: “a common power to keep them all in awe.” His commonwealth was a means of implementing the principle “that a man be willing, when others are so too ... to lay down this right to all things; and be contented with so much liberty against other men, as he would allow other men against himself.”⁹⁰ People vest authority in a sovereign person or assembly who can use the collective force of the contractors to hold each one to the agreement, because “covenants, without the sword, are but words, and of no strength to secure a man at all.”⁹¹

A governing body that has been granted a monopoly on the legitimate use of violence can neutralize each of Hobbes's reasons for quarrel. By inflicting penalties on aggressors, the governing body eliminates the profitability of invading for gain. That in turn defuses the Hobbesian trap in which mutually distrustful peoples are each tempted to inflict a preemptive strike to avoid being invaded for gain. And a system of laws that defines infractions and penalties and metes them out disinterestedly can obviate the need for a hair trigger for retaliation and the accompanying culture of honor. People can rest assured that someone else will impose disincentives on their enemies, making it unnecessary for them to maintain a belligerent stance to prove they are not punching bags. And having a third party measure the infractions and the punishments circumvents the hazard of self-deception, which ordinarily convinces those on each side that they have suffered the greater number of offenses. These advantages of third-party intercession can also come from nongovernmental methods of conflict resolution, in which mediators try to help the hostile parties negotiate an agreement or arbitrators render a verdict but cannot enforce it.⁹² The problem with these toothless measures is that the parties can always walk away when the outcome doesn't come out the way they want.

Adjudication by an armed authority appears to be the most effective general violence-reduction technique ever invented. Though we debate whether tweaks in criminal policy, such as executing murderers versus locking them up for life, can reduce violence by a few percentage points, there can be no debate on the massive effects of having a criminal justice system as opposed to living in anarchy. The shockingly high homicide rates of pre-state societies, with 10 to 60 percent of the men dying at the hands of other men, provide one kind of evidence.⁹³ Another is the emergence of a violent culture of honor in just about any corner of the world that is beyond the reach of the law.⁹⁴ Many historians argue that people acquiesced to centralized authorities during the Middle Ages and other periods to relieve themselves of the burden of having to retaliate against those who would harm them and their kin.⁹⁵ And the growth of those authorities may explain the hundredfold decline in homicide rates in European societies since the Middle Ages.⁹⁶ The United States saw a dramatic reduction in urban crime rates from the first half of the nineteenth  {331}  century to the second half, which coincided with the formation of professional police forces in the cities.⁹⁷ The causes of the decline in American crime in the 1990s are controversial and probably multifarious, but many criminologists trace it in part to more intensive community policing and higher incarceration rates of violent criminals.⁹⁸

The inverse is true as well. When law enforcement vanishes, all manner of violence breaks out: looting, settling old scores, ethnic cleansing, and petty warfare among gangs, warlords, and mafias. This was obvious in the remnants of Yugoslavia, the Soviet Union, and parts of Africa in the 1990s, but can also happen in countries with a long tradition of civility. As a young teenager in proudly peaceable Canada during the romantic 1960s, I was a true believer in Bakunin's anarchism. I laughed off my parents’ argument that if the government ever laid down its arms all hell would break loose. Our competing predictions were put to the test at 8:00 a.m. on October 17, 1969, when the Montreal police went on strike. By 11:20 a.m. the first bank was robbed. By noon most downtown stores had closed because of looting. Within a few more hours, taxi drivers burned down the garage of a limousine service that had competed with them for airport customers, a rooftop sniper killed a provincial police officer, rioters broke into several hotels and restaurants, and a doctor slew a burglar in his suburban home. By the end of the day, six banks had been robbed, a hundred shops had been looted, twelve fires had been set, forty carloads of storefront glass had been broken, and three million dollars in property damage had been inflicted, before city authorities had to call in the army and, of course, the Mounties to restore order.⁹⁹ This decisive empirical test left my politics in tatters (and offered a foretaste of life as a scientist).

The generalization that anarchy in the sense of a lack of government leads to anarchy in the sense of violent chaos may seem banal, but it is often overlooked in today's still-romantic climate. Government in general is anathema to many conservatives, and the police and prison system are anathema to many liberals. Many people on the left, citing uncertainty about the deterrent value of capital punishment compared to life imprisonment, maintain that deterrence is not effective in general. And many oppose more effective policing of inner-city neighborhoods, even though it may be the most effective way for their decent inhabitants to abjure the code of the streets. Certainly we must combat the racial inequities that put too many African American men in prison, but as the legal scholar Randall Kennedy has argued, we must also combat the racial inequities that leave too many African Americans exposed to criminals.¹⁰⁰ Many on the right oppose decriminalizing drugs, prostitution, and gambling without factoring in the costs of the zones of anarchy that, by their own free-market logic, are inevitably spawned by prohibition policies. When demand for a commodity is high, suppliers will materialize, and if they cannot protect their property rights by calling the police, they will do so with  {332}  a violent culture of honor. (This is distinct from the moral argument that our current drug policies incarcerate multitudes of nonviolent people.) Schoolchildren are currently fed the disinformation that Native Americans and other peoples in pre-state societies were inherently peaceable, leaving them uncomprehending, indeed contemptuous, of one of our species’ greatest inventions, democratic government and the rule of law.

Where Hobbes fell short was in dealing with the problem of policing the police. In his view, civil war was such a calamity that any government — monarchy, aristocracy, or democracy — was preferable to it. He did not seem to appreciate that in practice a leviathan would not be an otherworldly sea monster but a human being or group of them, complete with the deadly sins of greed, mistrust, and honor. (As we saw in the preceding chapter, this became the obsession of the heirs of Hobbes who framed the American Constitution.) Armed men are always a menace, so police who are not under tight democratic control can be a far worse calamity than the crime and feuding that go on without them. In the twentieth century, according to the political scientist R. J. Rummel in Death by Government, 170 million people were killed by their own governments. Nor is murder-by-government a relic of the tyrannies of the middle of the century. The World Conflict List for the year 2000 reported:

The stupidest conflict in this year's count is Cameroon. Early in the year, Cameroon was experiencing widespread problems with violent crime. The government responded to this crisis by creating and arming militias and paramilitary groups to stamp out the crime extrajudicially. Now, while violent crime has fallen, the militias and paramilitaries have created far more chaos and death than crime ever would have. Indeed, as the year wore on mass graves were discovered that were tied to the paramilitary groups.¹⁰¹

The pattern is familiar from other regions of the world (including our own) and shows that civil libertarians’ concern about abusive police practices is an indispensable counterweight to the monopoly on violence we grant the state.

~

Democratic leviathans have proven to be an effective antiviolence measure, but they leave much to be desired. Because they fight violence with violence or the threat of violence, they can be a danger themselves. And it would be far better if we could find a way to get people to abjure violence to begin with rather than punishing them after the fact. Worst of all, no one has yet figured out how to set up a worldwide democratic leviathan that would penalize the aggressive competition, defuse the Hobbesian traps, and eliminate the cultures of honor that hold between the most dangerous perpetrators of violence of all, nation-states. As Kant noted, “The depravity of human nature  {333}  is displayed without disguise in the unrestricted relations which obtain between the various nations.”¹⁰² The great question is how to get people and nations to repudiate violence from the start, preempting escalations of hostility before they can take off.

In the 1960s it all seemed so simple. War is unhealthy for children and other living things. What if they gave a war and nobody came? War: What is it good for? Absolutely nothing! The problem with these sentiments is that the other side has to feel the same way at the same time. In 1939 Neville Chamberlain offered his own antiwar slogan, “Peace in our time.” It was followed by a world war and a holocaust, because his adversary did not agree that war is good for absolutely nothing. Chamberlain's successor, Churchill, explained why peace is not a simple matter of unilateral pacifism: “Nothing is worse than war? Dishonor is worse than war. Slavery is worse than war.” A popular bumper sticker captures a related sentiment: if you want peace, work for justice. The problem is that what one side sees as honor and justice the other side may see as dishonor and injustice. Also, “honor” can be a laudable willingness to defend life and liberty, but it can also be a reckless refusal to de-escalate.

Sometimes all sides really do see that they would be better off beating their swords into plowshares. Scholars such as John Keegan and Donald Horowitz have noted a general decline in the taste for violence as a means of settling disputes within most Western democracies in the last half-century.¹⁰³ Civil wars, corporal and capital punishment, deadly ethnic riots, and foreign wars requiring face-to-face killing have declined or vanished. And as I have mentioned, though some decades in recent centuries have been more violent than others, the overall trend in crime has been downward.

One possible reason is the cosmopolitan forces that work to expand people's moral circle. Another may be the long-term effects of living with a leviathan. Today's civility in Europe, after all, followed centuries of beheadings and public hangings and exiles to penal colonies. And Canada may be more peaceable than its neighbor in part because its government outraced its people to the land. Unlike the United States, where settlers fanned out over a vast two-dimensional landscape with innumerable nooks and crannies, the habitable portion of Canada is a one-dimensional ribbon along the American border without remote frontiers and enclaves in which cultures of honor could fester. According to the Canadian studies scholar Desmond Morton, “Our west expanded in an orderly, peaceful fashion, with the police arriving before the settlers.”¹⁰⁴

But people can become less truculent without the external incentives of dollars and cents or governmental brute force. People all over the world have reflected on the futility of violence (at least when they are evenly enough matched with their adversaries that no one can prevail). A New Guinean  {334}  native laments, “War is bad and nobody likes it. Sweet potatoes disappear, pigs disappear, fields deteriorate, and many relatives and friends get killed. But one cannot help it.”¹⁰⁵ Chagnon reports that some Yanomamö men reflect on the futility of their feuds and a few make it known that they will have nothing to do with raiding.¹⁰⁶ In such cases it can become clear that both sides would come out ahead by splitting the differences between them rather than continuing to fight over them. During the trench warfare of World War I, weary British and German soldiers would probe each other's hostile intent with momentary respites in shelling. If the other side responded with a respite in kind, long periods of unofficial peace broke out beneath the notice of their bellicose commanders.¹⁰⁷ As a British soldier said, “We don't want to kill you, and you don't want to kill us, so why shoot?”¹⁰⁸

The most consequential episode in which belligerents sought a way to release their deadly embrace was the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962, when the United States discovered Soviet nuclear missiles in Cuba and demanded that they be removed. Khrushchev and Kennedy were both reminded of the human costs of the nuclear brink they were approaching, Khrushchev by memories of two world wars fought on his soil, Kennedy by a graphic briefing of the aftermath of an atomic bomb. And each understood they were in a Hobbesian trap. Kennedy had just read The Guns of August and saw how the leaders of great nations could blunder into a pointless war. Khrushchev wrote to Kennedy:

You and I should not now pull on the ends of the rope in which you have tied a knot of war, because the harder you and I pull, the tighter this knot will become. And a time may come when this knot is tied so tight that the person who tied it is no longer capable of untying it, and then the knot will have to be cut.¹⁰⁹

By identifying the trap, they could formulate a shared goal of escaping it. In the teeth of opposition from many of their advisers and large sectors of their publics, both made concessions that averted a catastrophe.

The problem with violence, then, is that the advantages of deploying it or renouncing it depend on what the other side does. Such scenarios are the province of game theory, and game theorists have shown that the best decision for each player individually is sometimes the worst decision for both collectively. The most famous example is the Prisoner's Dilemma, in which partners in crime are held in separate cells. Each is promised freedom if he is the first to implicate his partner (who then will get a harsh sentence), a light sentence if neither implicates the other, and a moderate sentence if each implicates the other. The optimal strategy for each prisoner is to defect from their partnership, but when both do so they end up with a worse outcome than if each stayed loyal. Yet neither can stay loyal out of fear that his partner might defect  {335}  and leave him with the worst outcome of all. The Prisoner's Dilemma is similar to the pacifist's dilemma: what is good for one (belligerence) is bad for both, but what is good for both (pacifism) is unattainable when neither can be sure the other is opting for it.

The only way to win a Prisoner's Dilemma is to change the rules or find a way out of the game. The World War I soldiers changed the rules in a way that has been much discussed in evolutionary psychology: play it repeatedly and apply a strategy of reciprocity, remembering the other player's last action and repaying him in kind.¹¹⁰ But in many antagonistic encounters that is not an option, because when the other player defects he can destroy you — or, in the case of the Cuban Missile Crisis, destroy the world. In that case the players had to recognize they were in a futile game and mutually decide to get out of it.

Glover draws an important conclusion about how the cognitive component of human nature might allow us to reduce violence even when it appears to be a rational strategy at the time:

Sometimes, apparently rational self-interested strategies turn out (as in the prisoners’ dilemma ... ) to be self-defeating. This may look like a defeat for rationality, but it is not. Rationality is saved by its own open-endedness. If a strategy of following accepted rules of rationality is sometimes self-defeating, this is not the end. We revise the rules to take account of this, so producing a higher-order rational strategy. This in turn may fail, but again we go up a level. At whatever level we fail, there is always the process of standing back and going up a further level.¹¹¹

The process of “standing back and going up a further level” might be necessary to overcome the emotional impediments to peace as well as the intellectual ones. Diplomatic peacemakers try to hurry along the epiphanies that prompt adversaries to extricate themselves from a deadly game. They try to blunt competition by carefully fashioning compromises over the disputed resources. They try to defuse Hobbesian traps via “confidence-building measures” such as making military activities transparent and bringing in third parties as guarantors. And they try to bring the two sides into each other's moral circles by facilitating trade, cultural exchanges, and people-to-people activities.

This is fine as far as it goes, but the diplomats are sometimes frustrated that at the end of the day the two sides seem to hate each other as much as they did at the beginning. They continue to demonize their opponents, warp the facts, and denounce the conciliators on their own side as traitors. Milton J. Wilkinson, a diplomat who failed to get the Greeks and Turks to bury the hatchet over Cyprus, suggests that peacemakers must understand the emotional faculties of adversaries and not just neutralize the current rational  {336}  incentives. The best-laid plans of peacemakers are often derailed by the adversaries’ ethnocentrism, sense of honor, moralization, and self-deception.¹¹² These mindsets evolved to deal with hostilities in the ancestral past, and we must bring them into the open if we are to work around them in the present.

An emphasis on the open-endedness of human rationality resonates with the finding from cognitive science that the mind is a combinatorial, recursive system.¹¹³ Not only do we have thoughts, but we have thoughts about our thoughts, and thoughts about our thoughts about our thoughts. The advances in human conflict resolution we have encountered in this chapter — submitting to the rule of law, figuring out a way for both sides to back down without losing face, acknowledging the possibility of one's own self-deception, accepting the equivalence of one's own interests and other people's — depend on this ability.

Many intellectuals have averted their gaze from the evolutionary logic of violence, fearing that acknowledging it is tantamount to accepting it or even to approving it. Instead they have pursued the comforting delusion of the Noble Savage, in which violence is an arbitrary product of learning or a pathogen that bores into us from the outside. But denying the logic of violence makes it easy to forget how readily violence can flare up, and ignoring the parts of the mind that ignite violence makes it easy to overlook the parts that can extinguish it. With violence, as with so many other concerns, human nature is the problem, but human nature is also the solution.

Chapter 18

Gender

Now that its namesake year has come and gone, the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey provides an opportunity to measure imagination against reality. Arthur C. Clarke's 1968 sci-fi classic traced out the destiny of our species from ape-men on the savanna to a transcendence of time, space, and bodies that we can only dimly comprehend. Clarke and the director, Stanley Kubrick, contrived a radical vision of life in the third millennium, and in some ways it has come to pass. A permanent space station is being built, and voice mail and the Internet are a routine part of our lives. In other regards Clarke and Kubrick were overoptimistic about the march of progress. We still don't have suspended animation, missions to Jupiter, or computers that read lips and plot mutinies. And in still other regards they missed the boat completely. In their vision of the year 2001, people recorded their words on typewriters; Clarke and Kubrick did not anticipate word processors or laptop computers. And in their depiction of the new millennium, the American women were “girl assistants”: secretaries, receptionists, and flight attendants.

That these visionaries did not anticipate the revolution in women's status of the 1970s is a pointed reminder of how quickly social arrangements can change. It was not so long ago that women were seen as fit only to be housewives, mothers, and sexual partners, were discouraged from entering the professions because they would be taking the place of a man, and were routinely subjected to discrimination, condescension, and sexual extortion. The ongoing liberation of women after millennia of oppression is one of the great moral achievements of our species, and I consider myself fortunate to have lived through some of its major victories.

The change in the status of women has several causes. One is the inexorable logic of the expanding moral circle, which led also to the abolition of despotism, slavery, feudalism, and racial segregation.¹ In the midst of the Enlightenment, the early feminist Mary Astell (1688–1731) wrote:  {338} 

If absolute Sovereignty be not necessary in a State how comes it to be so in a Family? or if in a Family why not in a State? since no reason can be alleg'd for the one that will not hold more strongly for the other.

If all Men are born free, how is it that all Women are born slaves? As they must be if the being subjected to the inconstant, uncertain, unknown, arbitrary Will of Men, be the perfect Condition of Slavery?²

Another cause is the technological and economic progress that made it possible for couples to have sex and raise children without a pitiless division of labor in which a mother had to devote every waking moment to keeping the children alive. Clean water, sanitation, and modern medicine lowered infant mortality and reduced the desire for large broods of children. Baby bottles and pasteurized cow's milk, and then breast pumps and freezers, made it possible to feed babies without their mothers being chained to them around the clock. Mass production made it cheaper to buy things than to make them by hand, and plumbing, electricity, and appliances reduced the domestic workload even more. The increased value of brains over brawn in the economy, the extension of the human lifespan (with the prospect of decades of life after childrearing), and the affordability of extended education changed the values of women's options in life. Contraception, amniocentesis, ultrasound, and reproductive technologies made it possible for women to defer childbearing to the optimal points in their lives.

And of course the other major cause of women's progress is feminism: the political, literary, and academic movements that channeled these advances into tangible changes in policies and attitudes. The first wave of feminism, bookended in the United States by the Seneca Falls convention of 1848 and the ratification of the Nineteenth Amendment to the Constitution in 1920, gave women the right to vote, to serve as jurors, to hold property in marriage, to divorce, and to receive an education. The second wave, flowering in the 1970s, brought women into the professions, changed the division of labor in the home, exposed sexist biases in business, government, and other institutions, and threw a spotlight on women's interests in all walks of life. The recent progress in women's rights has not drained feminism of its raison d'etre. In much of the Third World, women's position has not improved since the Middle Ages, and in our own society women are still subjected to discrimination, harassment, and violence.

Feminism is widely seen as being opposed to the sciences of human nature. Many of those scientists believe that the minds of the two sexes differ at birth, and feminists have pointed out that such beliefs have long been used to justify the unequal treatment of women. Women were thought to be designed for childrearing and home life and to be incapable of the reason necessary for  {339}  politics and the professions. Men were believed to harbor irresistible urges that made them harass and rape women, and that belief served to excuse the perpetrators and to license fathers and husbands to control women in the guise of protecting them. Therefore, it might seem, the theories that are most friendly to women are the Blank Slate — if nothing is innate, differences between the sexes cannot be innate — and the Noble Savage — if we harbor no ignoble urges, sexual exploitation can be eliminated by changing our institutions.

The belief that feminism requires a blank slate and a noble savage has become a powerful impetus for spreading disinformation. A 1994 headline in the New York Times science section, for example, proclaimed, “Sexes Equal on South Sea Isle.”³ It was based on the work of the anthropologist Maria Lepowsky, who (perhaps channeling the ghost of Margaret Mead) said that gender relations on the island of Vanatinai prove that “the subjugation of women by men is not a human universal, and it is not inevitable.” Only late in the story do we learn what this supposed “equality” amounts to: that men must do bride service to pay for wives, that warfare had been waged exclusively by men (who raided neighboring islands for brides), that women spend more time caring for children and sweeping up pig excrement, and that men spend more time building their reputations and hunting wild boar (which is accorded more prestige by both sexes). A similar disconnect between headline and fact appeared in a 1998 Boston Globe story entitled “Girls Appear to Be Closing Aggression Gap with Boys.” How much have they “closed this gap”? According to the story, they now commit murder at one-tenth the rate of boys.⁴ And in a 1998 op-ed, the co-producer of Ms. magazine's “Take Our Daughters to Work Day” explained recent high school shootings with the remarkable assertion that boys in America “are being trained by their parents, other adults, and our culture and media to harass, assault, rape, and murder girls.”⁵

On the other side, some conservatives are confirming feminists’ worst fears by invoking dubious sex differences to condemn the choices of women. In a Wall Street Journal editorial, the political scientist Harvey Mansfield wrote that “the protective element of manliness is endangered by women having equal access to jobs outside the home.”⁶ A book by E Carolyn Graglia called Domestic Tranquility: A Brief Against Feminism theorized that women's maternal and sexual instincts are being distorted by the assertiveness and analytical mind demanded by a career. The journalists Wendy Shalit and Danielle Crittenden recently advised women to marry young, postpone their careers, and care for children in traditional marriages, even though they could not have written their books if they had followed their own advice.⁷ Leon Kass has taken it upon himself to inform young women what they want: “For the first time in human history, mature women by the tens of thousands live the entire decade of their twenties — their most fertile years — neither in the homes of their  {340}  fathers nor in the homes of their husbands; unprotected, lonely, and out of sync with their inborn nature. Some women positively welcome this state of affairs, but most do not.”⁸

There is, in fact, no incompatibility between the principles of feminism and the possibility that men and women are not psychologically identical. To repeat: equality is not the empirical claim that all groups of humans are interchangeable; it is the moral principle that individuals should not be judged or constrained by the average properties of their group. In the case of gender, the barely defeated Equal Rights Amendment put it succinctly: “Equality of Rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or any state on account of sex.” If we recognize this principle, no one has to spin myths about the indistinguishability of the sexes to justify equality. Nor should anyone invoke sex differences to justify discriminatory policies or to hector women into doing what they don't want to do.

In any case, what we do know about the sexes does not call for any action that would penalize or constrain one sex or the other. Many psychological traits relevant to the public sphere, such as general intelligence, are the same on average for men and women, and virtually all psychological traits may be found in varying degrees among the members of each sex. No sex difference yet discovered applies to every last man compared with every last woman, so generalizations about a sex will always be untrue of many individuals. And notions like “proper role” and “natural place” are scientifically meaningless and give no grounds for restricting freedom.

Despite these principles, many feminists vehemently attack research on sexuality and sex differences. The politics of gender is a major reason that the application of evolution, genetics, and neuroscience to the human mind is bitterly resisted in modern intellectual life. But unlike other human divisions such as race and ethnicity, where any biological differences are minor at most and scientifically uninteresting, gender cannot possibly be ignored in the science of human beings. The sexes are as old as complex life and are a fundamental topic in evolutionary biology, genetics, and behavioral ecology. To disregard them in the case of our own species would be to make a hash of our understanding of our place in the cosmos. And of course differences between men and women affect every aspect of our lives. We all have a mother and a father, are attracted to members of the opposite sex (or notice our contrast with the people who are), and are never unaware of the sex of our siblings, children, and friends. To ignore gender would be to ignore a major part of the human condition.

The goal of this chapter is to clarify the relation between the biology of human nature and current controversies on the sexes, including the two most incendiary, the gender gap and sexual assault. With both of these hot buttons, I will argue against the conventional wisdom associated with certain people who claim to speak on behalf of feminism. That may create an illusion that the  {341}  arguments go against feminism in general, or even against the interests of women. They don't in the least, and I must begin by showing why.

~

Feminism is often derided because of the arguments of its lunatic fringe — for example, that all intercourse is rape, that all women should be lesbians, or that only 10 percent of the population should be allowed to be male.⁹ Feminists reply that proponents of women's rights do not speak with one voice, and that feminist thought comprises many positions, which have to be evaluated independently.¹⁰ That is completely legitimate, but it cuts both ways. To criticize a particular feminist proposal is not to attack feminism in general.

Anyone familiar with academia knows that it breeds ideological cults that are prone to dogma and resistant to criticism. Many women believe that this has now happened to feminism. In her book Who Stole Feminism? the philosopher Christina Hoff Sommers draws a useful distinction between two schools of thought.¹¹ Equity feminism opposes sex discrimination and other forms of unfairness to women. It is part of the classical liberal and humanistic tradition that grew out of the Enlightenment, and it guided the first wave of feminism and launched the second wave. Gender feminism holds that women continue to be enslaved by a pervasive system of male dominance, the gender system, in which “bi-sexual infants are transformed into male and female gender personalities, the one destined to command, the other to obey.”¹² It is opposed to the classical liberal tradition and allied instead with Marxism, postmodernism, social constructionism, and radical science. It has became the credo of some women's studies programs, feminist organizations, and spokespeople for the women's movement.

Equity feminism is a moral doctrine about equal treatment that makes no commitments regarding open empirical issues in psychology or biology. Gender feminism is an empirical doctrine committed to three claims about human nature. The first is that the differences between men and women have nothing to do with biology but are socially constructed in their entirety. The second is that humans possess a single social motive — power — and that social life can be understood only in terms of how it is exercised. The third is that human interactions arise not from the motives of people dealing with each other as individuals but from the motives of groups dealing with other groups — in this case, the male gender dominating the female gender.

In embracing these doctrines, the genderists are handcuffing feminism to railroad tracks on which a train is bearing down. As we shall see, neuroscience, genetics, psychology, and ethnography are documenting sex differences that almost certainly originate in human biology. And evolutionary psychology is documenting a web of motives other than group-against-group dominance (such as love, sex, family, and beauty) that entangle us in many conflicts and confluences of interest with members of the same sex and of the opposite sex.  {342}  Gender feminists want either to derail the train or to have other women join them in martyrdom, but the other women are not cooperating. Despite their visibility, gender feminists do not speak for all feminists, let alone for all women.

To begin with, research on the biological basis of sex differences has been led by women. Because it is so often said that this research is a plot to keep women down, I will have to name names. Researchers on the biology of sex differences include the neuroscientists Raquel Gur, Melissa Hines, Doreen Kimura, Jerre Levy, Martha McClintock, Sally Shaywitz, and Sandra Witelson and the psychologists Camilla Benbow, Linda Gottfredson, Diane Halpern, Judith Kleinfeld, and Diane McGuinness. Sociobiology and evolutionary psychology, sometimes stereotyped as a “sexist discipline,” is perhaps the most bi-gendered academic field I am familiar with. Its major figures include Laura Betzig, Elizabeth Cashdan, Leda Cosmides, Helena Cronin, Mildred Dickeman, Helen Fisher, Patricia Gowaty, Kristen Hawkes, Sarah Blaffer Hrdy, Magdalena Hurtado, Bobbie Low, Linda Mealey, Felicia Pratto, Marnie Rice, Catherine Salmon, Joan Silk, Meredith Small, Barbara Smuts, Nancy Wilmsen Thornhill, and Margo Wilson.

It is not just gender feminism's collision with science that repels many feminists. Like other inbred ideologies, it has produced strange excrescences, like the offshoot known as difference feminism. Carol Gilligan has become a gender-feminist icon because of her claim that men and women guide their moral reasoning by different principles: men think about rights and justice; women have feelings of compassion, nurturing, and peaceful accommodation.¹³ If true, it would disqualify women from becoming constitutional lawyers, Supreme Court justices, and moral philosophers, who make their living by reasoning about rights and justice. But it is not true. Many studies have tested Gilligan's hypothesis and found that men and women differ little or not at all in their moral reasoning.¹⁴ So difference feminism offers women the worst of both worlds: invidious claims without scientific support. Similarly, the gender-feminist classic called Women's Ways of Knowing claims that the sexes differ in their styles of reasoning. Men value excellence and mastery in intellectual matters and skeptically evaluate arguments in terms of logic and evidence; women are spiritual, relational, inclusive, and credulous.¹⁵ With sisters like these, who needs male chauvinists?

Gender feminism's disdain for analytical rigor and classical liberal principles has recently been excoriated by equity feminists, among them Jean Bethke Elshtain, Elizabeth Fox-Genovese, Wendy Kaminer, Noretta Koertge, Donna Laframboise, Mary Lefkowitz, Wendy McElroy, Camille Paglia, Daphne Patai, Virginia Postrel, Alice Rossi, Sally Satel, Christina Hoff Sommers, Nadine Strossen, Joan Kennedy Taylor, and Cathy Young.¹⁶ Well before them, prominent women writers demurred from gender-feminist ideology, including Joan  {343}  Didion, Doris Lessing, Iris Murdoch, Cynthia Ozick, and Susan Sontag.¹⁷ And ominously for the movement, a younger generation has rejected the gender feminists’ claims that love, beauty, flirtation, erotica, art, and heterosexuality are pernicious social constructs. The title of the book The New Victorians: A Young Woman's Challenge to the Old Feminist Order captures the revolt of such writers as Rene Denfeld, Karen Lehrman, Katie Roiphe, and Rebecca Walker, and of the movements called Third Wave, Riot Grrrl Movement, Pro-Sex Feminism, Lipstick Lesbians, Girl Power, and Feminists for Free Expression.¹⁸

The difference between gender feminism and equity feminism accounts for the oft-reported paradox that most women do not consider themselves feminists (about 70 percent in 1997, up from about 60 percent a decade before), yet they agree with every major feminist position.¹⁹ The explanation is simple: the word “feminist” is often associated with gender feminism, but the positions in the polls are those of equity feminism. Faced with these signs of slipping support, gender feminists have tried to stipulate that only they can be considered the true advocates of women's rights. For example, in 1992 Gloria Steinem said of Paglia, “Her calling herself a feminist is sort of like a Nazi saying they're not anti-Semitic.”²⁰ And they have invented a lexicon of epithets for what in any other area would be called disagreement: “backlash,” “not getting it,” “silencing women,” “intellectual harassment.”²¹

All this is an essential background to the discussions to come. To say that women and men do not have interchangeable minds, that people have desires other than power, and that motives belong to individual people and not just to entire genders is not to attack feminism or to compromise the interests of women, despite the misconception that gender feminism speaks in their name. All the arguments in the remainder of this chapter have been advanced most forcefully by women.

~

Why are people so afraid of the idea that the minds of men and women are not identical in every respect? Would we really be better off if everyone were like Pat, the androgynous nerd from Saturday Night Live? The fear, of course, is that different implies unequal — that if the sexes differed in any way, then men would have to be better, or more dominant, or have all the fun.

Nothing could be farther from biological thinking. Trivers alluded to a “symmetry in human relationships,” which embraced a “genetic equality of the sexes.”²² From a gene's point of view, being in the body of a male and being in the body of a female are equally good strategies, at least on average (circumstances can nudge the advantage somewhat in either direction).²³ Natural selection thus tends toward an equal investment in the two sexes: equal numbers, an equal complexity of bodies and brains, and equally effective designs for survival. Is it better to be the size of a male baboon and have six-inch canine teeth or to be the size of a female baboon and not have them? Merely to  {344}  ask the question is to reveal its pointlessness. A biologist would say that it's better to have the male adaptations to deal with male problems and the female adaptations to deal with female problems.

So men are not from Mars, nor are women from Venus. Men and women are from Africa, the cradle of our evolution, where they evolved together as a single species. Men and women have all the same genes except for a handful on the Y chromosome, and their brains are so similar that it takes an eagle-eyed neuroanatomist to find the small differences between them. Their average levels of general intelligence are the same, according to the best psychometric estimates,²⁴ and they use language and think about the physical and living world in the same general way. They feel the same basic emotions, and both enjoy sex, seek intelligent and kind marriage partners, get jealous, make sacrifices for their children, compete for status and mates, and sometimes commit aggression in pursuit of their interests.

But of course the minds of men and women are not identical, and recent reviews of sex differences have converged on some reliable differences.²⁵ Sometimes the differences are large, with only slight overlap in the bell curves. Men have a much stronger taste for no-strings sex with multiple or anonymous partners, as we see in the almost all-male consumer base for prostitution and visual pornography.²⁶ Men are far more likely to compete violently, sometimes lethally, with one another over stakes great and small (as in the recent case of a surgeon and an anesthesiologist who came to blows in the operating room while a patient lay on the table waiting to have her gall bladder removed).²⁷ Among children, boys spend far more time practicing for violent conflict in the form of what psychologists genteelly call “rough-and-tumble play.”²⁸ The ability to manipulate three-dimensional objects and space in the mind also shows a large difference in favor of men.²⁹

With some other traits the differences are small on average but can be large at the extremes. That happens for two reasons. When two bell curves partly overlap, the farther out along the tail you go, the larger the discrepancies between the groups. For example, men on average are taller than women, and the discrepancy is greater for more extreme values. At a height of five foot ten, men outnumber women by a ratio of thirty to one; at a height of six feet, men outnumber women by a ratio of two thousand to one. Also, confirming an expectation from evolutionary psychology, for many traits the bell curve for males is flatter and wider than the curve for females. That is, there are proportionally more males at the extremes. Along the left tail of the curve, one finds that boys are far more likely to be dyslexic, learning disabled, attention deficient, emotionally disturbed, and mentally retarded (at least for some types of retardation).³⁰ At the right tail, one finds that in a sample of talented students who score above 700 (out of 800) on the mathematics section of the  {345}  Scholastic Assessment Test, boys outnumber girls by thirteen to one, even though the scores of boys and girls are similar within the bulk of the curve.³¹

With still other traits, the average values for the two sexes differ by smaller amounts and in different directions for different traits.³² Though men, on average, are better at mentally rotating objects and maps, women are better at remembering landmarks and the positions of objects. Men are better throwers; women are more dexterous. Men are better at solving mathematical word problems, women at mathematical calculation. Women are more sensitive to sounds and smells, have better depth perception, match shapes faster, and are much better at reading facial expressions and body language. Women are better spellers, retrieve words more fluently, and have a better memory for verbal material.

Women experience basic emotions more intensely, except perhaps anger.³³ Women have more intimate social relationships, are more concerned about them, and feel more empathy toward their friends, though not toward strangers. (The common view that women are more empathic toward everyone is both evolutionarily unlikely and untrue.) They maintain more eye contact, and smile and laugh far more often.³⁴ Men are more likely to compete with one another for status using violence or occupational achievement, women more likely to use derogation and other forms of verbal aggression.

Men have a higher tolerance for pain and a greater willingness to risk life and limb for status, attention, and other dubious rewards. The Darwin Awards, given annually to “the individuals who ensure the long-term survival of our species by removing themselves from the gene pool in a sublimely idiotic fashion,” almost always go to men. Recent honorees include the man who squashed himself under a Coke machine after tipping it forward to get a free can, three men who competed over who could stomp the hardest on an antitank mine, and the would-be pilot who tied weather balloons to his lawn chair, shot two miles into the air, and drifted out to sea (earning just an Honorable Mention because he was rescued by helicopter).

Women are more attentive to their infants’ everyday cries (though both sexes respond equally to cries of extreme distress) and are more solicitous toward their children in general.³⁵ Girls play more at parenting and trying on social roles, boys more at fighting, chasing, and manipulating objects. And men and women differ in their patterns of sexual jealousy, their mate preferences, and their incentives to philander.

Many sex differences, of course, have nothing to do with biology. Hair styles and dress vary capriciously across centuries and cultures, and in recent decades participation in universities, professions, and sports has switched from mostly male to fifty-fifty or mostly female. For all we know, some of the current sex differences may be just as ephemeral. But gender feminists argue  {346}  that all sex differences, other than the anatomical ones, come from the expectations of parents, playmates, and society. The radical scientist Anne Fausto-Sterling wrote:

The key biological fact is that boys and girls have different genitalia, and it is this biological difference that leads adults to interact differently with different babies whom we conveniently color-code in pink or blue to make it unnecessary to go peering into their diapers for information about gender.³⁶

But the pink-and-blue theory is becoming less and less credible. Here are a dozen kinds of evidence that suggest that the difference between men and women is more than genitalia-deep.

• Sex differences are not an arbitrary feature of Western culture, like the decision to drive on the left or on the right. In all human cultures, men and women are seen as having different natures. All cultures divide their labor by sex, with more responsibility for childrearing by women and more control of the public and political realms by men. (The division of labor emerged even in a culture where everyone had been committed to stamping it out, the Israeli kibbutz.) In all cultures men are more aggressive, more prone to stealing, more prone to lethal violence (including war), and more likely to woo, seduce, and trade favors for sex. And in all cultures one finds rape, as well as proscriptions against rape.³⁷

• Many of the psychological differences between the sexes are exactly what an evolutionary biologist who knew only their physical differences would predict.³⁸ Throughout the animal kingdom, when the female has to invest more calories and risk in each offspring (in the case of mammals, through pregnancy and nursing), she also invests more in nurturing the offspring after birth, since it is more costly for a female to replace a child than for a male to replace one. The difference in investment is accompanied by a greater competition among males over opportunities to mate, since mating with many partners is more likely to multiply the number of offspring of a male than the number of offspring of a female. When the average male is larger than the average female (as is true of men and women), it bespeaks an evolutionary history of greater violent competition by males over mating opportunities. Other physical traits of men, such as later puberty, greater adult strength, and shorter lives, also indicate a history of selection for high-stakes competition.

• Many of the sex differences are found widely in other primates, indeed, throughout the mammalian class.³⁹ The males tend to compete more aggressively and to be more polygamous; the females tend to invest more in  {347}  parenting. In many mammals a greater territorial range is accompanied by an enhanced ability to navigate using the geometry of the spatial layout (as opposed to remembering individual landmarks). More often it is the male who has the greater range, and that is true of human hunter-gatherers. Men's advantage in using mental maps and performing 3-D mental rotation may not be a coincidence.⁴⁰

• Geneticists have found that the diversity of the DNA in the mitochondria of different people (which men and women inherit from their mothers) is far greater than the diversity of the DNA in Y chromosomes (which men inherit from their fathers). This suggests that for tens of millennia men had greater variation in their reproductive success than women. Some men had many descendants and others had none (leaving us with a small number of distinct Y chromosomes), whereas a larger number of women had a more evenly distributed number of descendants (leaving us with a larger number of distinct mitochondrial genomes). These are precisely the conditions that cause sexual selection, in which males compete for opportunities to mate and females choose the best-quality males.⁴¹

• The human body contains a mechanism that causes the brains of boys and the brains of girls to diverge during development.⁴² The Y chromosome triggers the growth of testes in a male fetus, which secrete androgens, the characteristically male hormones (including testosterone). Androgens have lasting effects on the brain during fetal development, in the months after birth, and during puberty, and they have transient effects at other times. Estrogens, the characteristically female sex hormones, also affect the brain throughout life. Receptors for the sex hormones are found in the hypothalamus, the hippocampus, and the amygdala in the limbic system of the brain, as well as in the cerebral cortex.

• The brains of men differ visibly from the brains of women in several ways.⁴³ Men have larger brains with more neurons (even correcting for body size), though women have a higher percentage of gray matter. (Since men and women are equally intelligent overall, the significance of these differences is unknown.) The interstitial nuclei in the anterior hypothalamus, and a nucleus of the stria terminalis, also in the hypothalamus, are larger in men; they have been implicated in sexual behavior and aggression. Portions of the cerebral commissures, which link the left and right hemispheres, appear to be larger in women, and their brains may function in a less lopsided manner than men's. Learning and socialization can affect the microstructure and functioning of the human brain, of course, but probably not the size of its visible anatomical structures.

• Variation in the level of testosterone among different men, and in the same man in different seasons or at different times of day, correlates with libido, self-confidence, and the drive for dominance.⁴⁴ Violent criminals  {348}  have higher levels than nonviolent criminals; trial lawyers have higher levels than those who push paper. The relations are complicated for a number of reasons. Over a broad range of values, the concentration of testosterone in the bloodstream doesn't matter. Some traits, such as spatial abilities, peak at moderate rather than high levels. The effects of testosterone depend on the number and distribution of receptors for the molecule, not just on its concentration. And one's psychological state can affect testosterone levels as well as the other way around. But there is a causal relation, albeit a complicated one. When women preparing for a sex-change operation are given androgens, they improve on tests of mental rotation and get worse on tests of verbal fluency. The journalist Andrew Sullivan, whose medical condition had lowered his testosterone levels, describes the effects of injecting it: “The rush of a T shot is not unlike the rush of going on a first date or speaking before an audience. I feel braced. After one injection, I almost got in a public brawl for the first time in my life. There is always a lust peak — every time it takes me unaware.”⁴⁵ Though testosterone levels in men and women do not overlap, variations in level have similar kinds of effects in the two sexes. High-testosterone women smile less often and have more extramarital affairs, a stronger social presence, and even a stronger handshake.

• Women's cognitive strengths and weaknesses vary with the phase of their menstrual cycle.⁴⁶ When estrogen levels are high, women get even better at tasks on which they typically do better than men, such as verbal fluency. When the levels are low, women get better at tasks on which men typically do better, such as mental rotation. A variety of sexual motives, including their taste in men, vary with the menstrual cycle as well.⁴⁷

• Androgens have permanent effects on the developing brain, not just transient effects on the adult brain.⁴⁸ Girls with congenital adrenal hyperplasia overproduce androstenedione, the androgen hormone made famous by the baseball slugger Mark McGwire. Though their hormone levels are brought to normal soon after birth, the girls grow into tomboys, with more rough-and-tumble play, a greater interest in trucks than dolls, better spatial abilities, and, when they get older, more sexual fantasies and attractions involving other girls. Those who are treated with hormones only later in childhood show male patterns of sexuality when they become young adults, including quick arousal by pornographic images, an autonomous sex drive centered on genital stimulation, and the equivalent of wet dreams.⁴⁹

• The ultimate fantasy experiment to separate biology from socialization would be to take a baby boy, give him a sex-change operation, and have his parents raise him as a girl and other people treat him as one. If gender is socially constructed, the child should have the mind of a normal girl; if it  {349}  depends on prenatal hormones, the child should feel like a boy trapped in a girl's body. Remarkably, the experiment has been done in real life — not out of scientific curiosity, of course, but as a result of disease and accidents. One study looked at twenty-five boys who were born without a penis (a birth defect known as cloacal exstrophy) and who were then castrated and raised as girls. All of them showed male patterns of rough-and-tumble play and had typically male attitudes and interests. More than half of them spontaneously declared they were boys, one when he was just five years old.⁵⁰

In a famous case study, an eight-month-old boy lost his penis in a botched circumcision (not by a mohel, I was relieved to learn, but by a bungling doctor). His parents consulted the famous sex researcher John Money, who had maintained that “Nature is a political strategy of those committed to maintaining the status quo of sex differences.” He advised them to let the doctors castrate the baby and build him an artificial vagina, and they raised him as a girl without telling him what had happened.⁵¹ I learned about the case as an undergraduate in the 1970s, when it was offered as proof that babies are born neuter and acquire a gender from the way they are raised. A New York Times article from the era reported that Brenda (nee Bruce) “has been sailing contentedly through childhood as a genuine girl.”⁵² The facts were suppressed until 1997, when it was revealed that from a young age Brenda felt she was a boy trapped in a girl's body and gender role.⁵³ She ripped off frilly dresses, rejected dolls in favor of guns, preferred to play with boys, and even insisted on urinating standing up. At fourteen she was so miserable that she decided either to live her life as a male or to end it, and her father finally told her the truth. She underwent a new set of operations, assumed a male identity, and today is happily married to a woman.

Children with Turner's syndrome are genetically neuter. They have a single X chromosome, inherited from either their mother or their father, instead of the usual two X chromosomes of a girl (one from her mother, the other from her father) or the X and Y of a boy (the X from his mother, the Y from his father). Since a female body plan is the default among mammals, they look and act like girls. Geneticists have discovered that parents’ bodies can molecularly imprint genes on the X chromosome so they become more or less active in the developing bodies and brains of their children. A Turner's syndrome girl who gets her X chromosome from her father may have genes that are evolutionarily optimized for girls (since a paternal X always ends up in a daughter). A Turner's girl who gets her X from her mother may have genes that are evolutionarily optimized for boys (since a maternal X, though it can end up in either sex, will act unopposed only in a son, who has no counterpart to the X genes on his puny  {350}  Y chromosome). And in fact Turner's girls do differ psychologically depending on which parent gave them their X. The ones with an X from their father (which is destined for a girl) were better at interpreting body language, reading emotions, recognizing faces, handling words, and getting along with other people compared to the ones with an X from their mother (which is fully active only in a boy).⁵⁴

• Contrary to popular belief, parents in contemporary America do not treat their sons and daughters very differently.⁵⁵ A recent assessment of 172 studies involving 28,000 children found that boys and girls are given similar amounts of encouragement, warmth, nurturance, restrictiveness, discipline, and clarity of communication. The only substantial difference was that about two-thirds of the boys were discouraged from playing with dolls, especially by their fathers, out of a fear that they would become gay. (Boys who prefer girls’ toys often do turn out gay, but forbidding them the toys does not change the outcome.) Nor do differences between boys and girls depend on their observing masculine behavior in their fathers and feminine behavior in their mothers. When Hunter has two mommies, he acts just as much like a boy as if he had a mommy and a daddy.

Things are not looking good for the theory that boys and girls are born identical except for their genitalia, with all other differences coming from the way society treats them. If that were true, it would be an amazing coincidence that in every society the coin flip that assigns each sex to one set of roles would land the same way (or that one fateful flip at the dawn of the species should have been maintained without interruption across all the upheavals of the past hundred thousand years). It would be just as amazing that, time and again, society's arbitrary assignments matched the predictions that a Martian biologist would make for our species based on our anatomy and the distribution of our genes. It would seem odd that the hormones that make us male and female in the first place also modulate the characteristically male and female mental traits, both decisively in early brain development and in smaller degrees throughout our lives. It would be all the more odd that a second genetic mechanism differentiating the sexes (genomic imprinting) also installs characteristic male and female talents. Finally, two key predictions of the social construction theory — that boys treated as girls will grow up with girls’ minds, and that differences between boys and girls can be traced to differences in how their parents treat them — have gone down in flames.

Of course, just because many sex differences are rooted in biology does not mean that one sex is superior, that the differences will emerge for all  {351}  people in all circumstances, that discrimination against a person based on sex is justified, or that people should be coerced into doing things typical of their sex. But neither are the differences without consequences.

~

By now many people are happy to say what was unsayable in polite company a few years ago: that males and females do not have interchangeable minds. Even the comic pages have commented on the shift in the debate, as we see in this dialogue between the free-associating, junkfood-loving Zippy and the cartoonist's alter ego Griffy:

But among many professional women the existence of sex differences is still a source of discomfort. As one colleague said to me, “Look, I know that males and females are not identical. I see it in my kids, I see it in myself, I know about the research. I can't explain it, but when I read claims about sex differences, steam comes out of my ears”. The most likely cause of her disquiet is captured in a recent editorial by Betty Friedan, the cofounder of the National Organization for Women and the author of the 1963 book The Feminine Mystique:

Though the women's movement has begun to achieve equality for women on many economic and political measures, the victory remains incomplete. To take two of the simplest and most obvious indicators: women still earn no more than 72 cents for every dollar that men earn, and we are nowhere near equality in numbers at the very top of decision making in business, government, or the professions.⁵⁶

Like Friedan, many people believe that the gender gap in wages and a “glass ceiling” that keeps women from rising to the uppermost levels of power are the two main injustices facing women in the West today. In his 1999 State of the Union address, Bill Clinton said, “We can be proud of this progress, but 75 cents on the dollar is still only three-quarters of the way there, and Americans  {352}  can't be satisfied until we're all the way there.” The gender gap and the glass ceiling have inspired lawsuits against companies that have too few women in the top positions, pressure on the government to regulate all salaries so men and women are paid according to the “comparable worth” of their jobs, and aggressive measures to change girls’ attitudes to the professions, such as the annual Take Our Daughters to Work Day.

Scientists and engineers face the issue in the form of the “leaky pipeline.” Though women make up almost 60 percent of university students and about half of the students majoring in many fields of science, the proportion advancing to the next career stage diminishes as they go from being undergraduates to graduate students to postdoctoral fellows to junior professors to tenured professors. Women make up less than 20 percent of the workforce in science, engineering, and technology development, and only 9 percent of the workforce in engineering.⁵⁷ Readers of the flagship journals Science and Nature have seen two decades of headlines such as “Diversity: Easier Said Than Done” and “Efforts to Boost Diversity Face Persistent Problems.”⁵⁸ A typical story, commenting on the many national commissions set up to investigate the problem, said, “These activities are meant to continue chipping away at a problem that, experts say, begins with negative messages in elementary school, continues through undergraduate and graduate programs that erect barriers — financial, academic, and cultural — to all but the best candidates, and persists into the workplace.”⁵⁹ A meeting in 2001 of the presidents of nine elite American universities called for “significant changes,” such as setting aside grants and fellowships for women faculty, giving them the best parking spaces on campus, and ensuring that the percentage of women faculty equals the percentage of women students.⁶⁰

But there is something odd in these stories about negative messages, hidden barriers, and gender prejudices. The way of science is to lay out every hypothesis that could account for a phenomenon and to eliminate all but the correct one. Scientists prize the ability to think up alternative explanations, and proponents of a hypothesis are expected to refute even the unlikely ones. Nonetheless, discussions of the leaky pipeline in science rarely even mention an alternative to the theory of barriers and bias. One of the rare exceptions was a sidebar to a 2000 story in Science, which quoted from a presentation at the National Academy of Engineering by the social scientist Patti Hausman:

The question of why more women don't choose careers in engineering has a rather obvious answer: Because they don't want to. Wherever you go, you will find females far less likely than males to see what is so fascinating about ohms, carburetors, or quarks. Reinventing the curriculum will not make me more interested in learning how my dishwasher works.⁶¹  {353} 

An eminent woman engineer in the audience immediately denounced her analysis as “pseudoscience.” But Linda Gottfredson, an expert in the literature on vocational preferences, pointed out that Hausman had the data on her side: “On average, women are more interested in dealing with people and men with things.” Vocational tests also show that boys are more interested in “realistic,” “theoretical,” and “investigative” pursuits, and girls more interested in “artistic” and “social” pursuits.

Hausman and Gottfredson are lonely voices, because the gender gap is almost always analyzed in the following way. Any imbalance between men and women in their occupations or earnings is direct proof of gender bias — if not in the form of overt discrimination, then in the form of discouraging messages and hidden barriers. The possibility that men and women might differ from each other in ways that affect what jobs they hold or how much they get paid may never be mentioned in public, because it will set back the cause of equity in the workplace and harm the interests of women. It is this conviction that led Friedan and Clinton, for example, to say that we will not have attained gender equity until earnings and representation in the professions are identical for men and women. In a 1998 television interview, Gloria Steinem and the congresswoman Bella Abzug called the very idea of sex differences “poppycock” and “anti-American crazy thinking,” and when Abzug was asked whether gender equality meant equal numbers in every field, she replied, “Fifty-fifty — absolutely.”⁶² This analysis of the gender gap has also become the official position of universities. That the presidents of the nation's elite universities are happy to accuse their colleagues of shameful prejudice without even considering alternative explanations (whether or not they would end up accepting them) shows how deeply rooted the taboo is.

The problem with this analysis is that inequality of outcome cannot be used as proof of inequality of opportunity unless the groups being compared are identical in all of their psychological traits, which is likely to be true only if we are blank slates. But the suggestion that the gender gap may arise, even in part, from differences between the sexes can be fightin’ words. Anyone bringing it up is certain to be accused of “wanting to keep women in their place” or “justifying the status quo.” This makes about as much sense as saying that a scientist who studies why women live longer than men “wants old men to die.” And far from being a ploy by self-serving men, analyses exposing the flaws of the glass-ceiling theory have largely come from women, including Hausman, Gottfredson, Judith Kleinfeld, Karen Lehrman, Cathy Young, and Camilla Benbow, the economists Jennifer Roback, Felice Schwartz, Diana Furchtgott-Roth, and Christine Stolba, the legal scholar Jennifer Braceras, and, more guardedly, the economist Claudia Goldin and the legal scholar Susan Estrich.⁶³

I believe these writers have given us a better understanding of the gender gap than the standard one, for a number of reasons. Their analysis is not afraid  {354}  of the possibility that the sexes might differ, and therefore does not force us to choose between scientific findings on human nature and the fair treatment of women. It offers a more sophisticated understanding of the causes of the gender gap, one that is consistent with our best social science. It takes a more respectful view of women and their choices. And ultimately it promises more humane and effective remedies for gender inequities in the workplace.

Before presenting the new analysis of the gender gap from equity feminists, let me reiterate three points that are not in dispute. First, discouraging women from pursuing their ambitions, and discriminating against them on the basis of their sex, are injustices that should be stopped wherever they are discovered.

Second, there is no doubt that women faced widespread discrimination in the past and continue to face it in some sectors today. This cannot be proven by showing that men earn more than women or that the sex ratio departs from fifty-fifty, but it can be proven in other ways. Experimenters can send out fake resumes or grant proposals that are identical in all ways except the sex of the applicant and see whether they are treated differently. Economists can do a regression analysis that takes measures of people's qualifications and interests and determines whether the men and the women earn different amounts, or are promoted at different rates, when their qualifications and interests are statistically held constant. The point that differences in outcome don't show discrimination unless one has equated for other relevant traits is elementary social science (not to mention common sense), and is accepted by all economists when they analyze data sets looking for evidence of wage discrimination.⁶⁴

Third, there is no question of whether women are “qualified” to be scientists, CEOs, leaders of nations, or elite professionals of any other kind. That was decisively answered years ago: some are and some aren't, just as some men are qualified and some aren't. The only question is whether the proportions of qualified men and women must be identical.

As in many other topics related to human nature, people's unwillingness to think in statistical terms has led to pointless false dichotomies. Here is how to think about gender distributions in the professions without having to choose between the extremes of “women are unqualified” and “fifty-fifty absolutely,” or between “there is no discrimination” and “there is nothing but discrimination.”

In a free and unprejudiced labor market, people will be hired and paid according to the match between their traits and the demands of the job. A given job requires some mixture of cognitive talents (such as mathematical or linguistic skill), personality traits (such as risk taking or cooperation), and tolerance of lifestyle demands (rigid schedules, relocations, updating job skills). And it offers some mixture of personal rewards: people, gadgets, ideas, the  {355}  outdoors, pride in workmanship. The salary is influenced, among other things, by supply and demand: how many people want the job, how many can do it, and how many the employer can pay to do it. Readily filled jobs may pay less; difficult-to-fill jobs may pay more.

People vary in the traits relevant to employment. Most people can think logically, work with people, tolerate conflict or unpleasant surroundings, and so on, but not to an identical extent; everyone has a unique profile of strengths and tastes. Given all the evidence for sex differences (some biological, some cultural, some both), the statistical distributions for men and women in these strengths and tastes are unlikely to be identical. If one now matches the distribution of traits for men and for women with the distribution of the demands of the jobs in the economy, the chance that the proportion of men and of women in each profession will be identical, or that the mean salary of men and of women will be identical, is very close to zero — even if there were no barriers or discrimination.

None of this implies that women will end up with the short end of the stick. It depends on the menu of opportunities that a given society makes available. If there are more high-paying jobs that call for typical male strengths (say, willingness to put oneself in physical danger, or an interest in machines), men may do better on average; if there are more that call for typical female strengths (say, a proficiency with language, or an interest in people), women may do better on average. In either case, members of both sexes will be found in both kinds of jobs, just in different numbers. That is why some relatively prestigious professions are dominated by women. An example is my own field, the study of language development in children, in which women outnumber men by a large margin.⁶⁵ In her book The First Sex: The Natural Talents of Women and How They Are Changing the World, the anthropologist Helen Fisher speculates that the culture of business in our knowledge-driven, globalized economy will soon favor women. Women are more articulate and cooperative, are not as obsessed with rank, and are better able to negotiate win-win outcomes. The workplaces of the new century, she predicts, will increasingly demand these talents, and women may surpass men in status and earnings.

In today's world, of course, the gap favors men. Some of the gap is caused by discrimination. Employers may underestimate the skills of women, or assume that an all-male workplace is more efficient, or worry that their male employees will resent female supervisors, or fear resistance from prejudiced customers and clients. But the evidence suggests that not all sex differences in the professions are caused by these barriers.⁶⁶ It is unlikely, for example, that among academics the mathematicians are unusually biased against women, the developmental psycholinguists are unusually biased against men, and the evolutionary psychologists are unusually free of bias.

In a few professions, differences in ability may play some role. The fact that  {356}  more men than women have exceptional abilities in mathematical reasoning and in mentally manipulating 3-D objects is enough to explain a departure from a fifty-fifty sex ratio among engineers, physicists, organic chemists, and professors in some branches of mathematics (though of course it does not mean that the proportion of women should be anywhere near zero).

In most professions, average differences in ability are irrelevant, but average differences in preferences may set the sexes on different paths. The most dramatic example comes from an analysis by David Lubinski and Camilla Benbow of a sample of mathematically precocious seventh-graders selected in a nationwide talent search.⁶⁷ The teenagers were born during the second wave of feminism, were encouraged by their parents to develop their talents (all were sent to summer programs in math and science), and were fully aware of their ability to achieve. But the gifted girls told the researchers that they were more interested in people, “social values,” and humanitarian and altruistic goals, whereas the gifted boys said they were more interested in things, “theoretical values,” and abstract intellectual inquiry. In college, the young women chose a broad range of courses in the humanities, arts, and sciences, whereas the boys were geeks who stuck to math and science. And sure enough, fewer than 1 percent of the young women pursued doctorates in math, physical sciences, or engineering, whereas 8 percent of the young men did. The women went into medicine, law, the humanities, and biology instead.

This asymmetry is writ large in massive surveys of job-related values and career choices, another kind of study in which men and women actually say what they want rather than having activists speak for them.⁶⁸ On average, men's self-esteem is more highly tied to their status, salary, and wealth, and so is their attractiveness as a sexual partner and marriage partner, as revealed in studies of what people look for in the opposite sex.⁶⁹ Not surprisingly, men say they are more keen to work longer hours and to sacrifice other parts of their lives — to live in a less attractive city, or to leave friends and family when they relocate — in order to climb the corporate ladder or achieve notoriety in their fields. Men, on average, are also more willing to undergo physical discomfort and danger, and thus are more likely to be found in grungy but relatively lucrative jobs such as repairing factory equipment, working on oil rigs, and jack-hammering sludge from the inside of oil tanks. Women, on average, are more likely to choose administrative support jobs that offer lower pay in air-conditioned offices. Men are greater risk takers, and that is reflected in their career paths even when qualifications are held constant. Men prefer to work for corporations, women for government agencies and nonprofit organizations. Male doctors are more likely to specialize and to open up private practices; female doctors are more likely to be general practitioners on salary in hospitals and clinics. Men are more likely to be managers in factories, women more likely to be managers in human resources or corporate communications.  {357} 

Mothers are more attached to their children, on average, than are fathers. That is true in societies all over the world and probably has been true of our lineage since the first mammals evolved some two hundred million years ago.

As Susan Estrich puts it, “Waiting for the connection between gender and parenting to be broken is waiting for Godot.” This does not mean that women in any society have ever been uninterested in work; among hunter-gatherers, women do most of the gathering and some of the hunting, especially when it involves nets rather than rocks and spears.⁷⁰ Nor does it mean that men in any society are indifferent to their children; male parental investment is a conspicuous and zoologically unusual feature of Homo sapiens. But it does mean that the biologically ubiquitous tradeoff between investing in a child and working to stay healthy (ultimately to beget or invest in other children) may be balanced at different points by males and females. Not only are women the sex who nurse, but women are more attentive to their babies’ well-being and, in surveys, place a higher value on spending time with their children.⁷¹

So even if both sexes value work and both sexes value children, the different weightings may lead women, more often than men, to make career choices that allow them to spend more time with their children — shorter or more flexible hours, fewer relocations, skills that don't become obsolete as quickly — in exchange for lower wages or prestige. As the economist Jennifer Roback points out, “Once we observe that people sacrifice money income for other pleasurable things we can infer next to nothing by comparing the income of one person with another's.”⁷² The economist Gary Becker has shown that marriage can magnify the effects of sex differences, even if they are small to begin with, because of what economists call the law of comparative advantage. In couples where the husband can earn a bit more than the wife, but the wife is a somewhat better parent than the husband, they might rationally decide they are both better off if she works less than he does.⁷³

To repeat: none of this means that sex discrimination has vanished, or that it is justified when it occurs. The point is only that gender gaps by themselves say nothing about discrimination unless the slates of men and women are blank, which they are not. The only way to establish discrimination is to compare their jobs or wages when choices and qualifications are equalized. And in fact a recent study of data from the National Longitudinal Survey of Youth found that childless women between the ages of twenty-seven and thirty-three earn 98 cents to men's dollar.⁷⁴ Even to people who are cynical about the motivations of American employers, this should come as no shock. In a cutthroat market, any company stupid enough to overlook qualified women or to overpay unqualified men would be driven out of business by a more meritocratic competitor.

Now, there is nothing in science or social science that would rule out policies implementing a fifty-fifty distribution of wages and jobs between the sexes,  {358}  if a democracy decided that this was an inherently worthy goal. What the findings do say is that such policies will come with costs as well as benefits. The obvious benefit of equality-of-outcome policies is that they might neutralize the remaining discrimination against women. But if men and women are not interchangeable, the costs have to be considered as well.

Some costs would be borne by men or by both sexes. The two most obvious are the possibility of reverse discrimination against men and of a false presumption of sexism among the men and women who make decisions about hiring and salary today. Another cost borne by both sexes is the inefficiency that could result if employment decisions were based on factors other than the best match between the demands of a job and the traits of the person.

But many of the costs of equality-of-outcome policies would be borne by women. Many women scientists are opposed to hard gender preferences in science, such as designated faculty positions for women, or the policy (advocated by one activist) in which federal research grants would be awarded in exact proportion to the number of men and women who apply for them. The problem with these well-meaning policies is that they can plant seeds of doubt in people's minds about the excellence of the beneficiaries. As the astronomer Lynne Hillenbrand said, “If you're given an opportunity for the reason of being female, it doesn't do anyone any favors; it makes people question why you're there.”⁷⁵

Certainly there are institutional barriers to the advancement of women. People are mammals, and we should think through the ethical implications of the fact that it is women who bear, nurse, and disproportionately raise children. One ought not to assume that the default human being is a man and that children are an indulgence or an accident that strikes a deviant subset. Sex differences therefore can be used to justify, rather than endanger, woman-friendly policies such as parental leave, subsidized childcare, flexible hours, and stoppages of the tenure clock or the elimination of tenure altogether (a possibility recently broached by the biologist and Princeton University president Shirley Tilghman).

Of course, there is no such thing as a free lunch, and these policies are also decisions — perhaps justifiable ones — to penalize men and women who are childless, have grown children, or choose to stay at home with their children. But even when it comes to weighing these tradeoffs, thinking about human nature can raise deep new questions that could ultimately improve the lot of working women. Which of the onerous job demands that deter women really contribute to economic efficiency, and which are obstacle courses in which men compete for alpha status? In reasoning about fairness in the workplace, should we consider people as isolated individuals, or should we consider them as members of families who probably will have children at some point in their lives and who probably will care for aging parents at some point in their lives?  {359}  If we trade off some economic efficiency for more pleasant working conditions in all jobs, might there be a net increase in happiness? I don't have answers, but the questions are well worth asking.

There is one more reason that acknowledging sex differences can be more humane than denying them. It is men and women, not the male gender and the female gender, who prosper or suffer, and those men and women are endowed with brains — perhaps not identical brains — that give them values and an ability to make choices. Those choices should be respected. A regular feature of the lifestyle pages is the story about women who are made to feel ashamed about staying at home with their children. As they always say, “I thought feminism was supposed to be about choices.” The same should apply to women who do choose to work but also to trade off some income in order to “have a life” (and, of course, to men who make that choice). It is not obviously progressive to insist that equal numbers of men and women work eighty-hour weeks in a corporate law firm or leave their families for months at a time to dodge steel pipes on a frigid oil platform. And it is grotesque to demand (as advocates of gender parity did in the pages of Science) that more young women “be conditioned to choose engineering,” as if they were rats in a Skinner box.⁷⁶

Gottfredson points out, “If you insist on using gender parity as your measure of social justice, it means you will have to keep many men and women out of the work they like best and push them into work they don't like.”⁷⁷ She is echoed by Kleinfeld on the leaky pipeline in science: “We should not be sending [gifted] women the messages that they are less worthy human beings, less valuable to our civilization, lazy or low in status, if they choose to be teachers rather than mathematicians, journalists rather than physicists, lawyers rather than engineers.”⁷⁸ These are not hypothetical worries: a recent survey by the National Science Foundation found that many more women than men say they majored in science, mathematics, or engineering under pressure from teachers or family members rather than to pursue their own aspirations — and that many eventually switched out for that reason.⁷⁹ I will give the final word to Margaret Mead, who, despite being wrong in her early career about the malleability of gender, was surely right when she said, “If we are to achieve a richer culture, rich in contrasting values, we must recognize the whole gamut of human potentialities, and so weave a less arbitrary social fabric, one in which each diverse human gift will find a fitting place.”

~

Other than the gender gap, the most combustible recent issue surrounding the sexes has been the nature and causes of rape. When the biologist Randy Thornhill and the anthropologist Craig Palmer published A Natural History of Rape in 2000, they threatened a consensus that had held firm in intellectual life for a quarter of a century, and they brought down more condemnation on evolutionary psychology than any issue had in years.⁸⁰ Rape is a painful issue  {360}  to write about, but also an unavoidable one. Nowhere else in modern intellectual life is the denial of human nature more passionately insisted upon, and nowhere else is the alternative more deeply misunderstood. Clarifying these issues, I believe, would go a long way toward reconciling three ideals that have needlessly been put into conflict: women's rights, a biologically informed understanding of human nature, and common sense.

The horror of rape gives it a special gravity in our understanding of the psychology of men and women. There is an overriding moral imperative in the study of rape: to reduce its occurrence. Any scientist who illuminates the causes of rape deserves our admiration, like a medical researcher who illuminates the cause of a disease, because understanding an affliction is the first step toward eliminating it. And since no one acquires the truth by divine revelation, we must also respect those who explore theories that may turn out to be incorrect. Moral criticism would seem to be in order only for those who would enforce dogmas, ignore evidence, or shut down research, because they would be protecting their reputations at the expense of victims of rapes that might not have occurred if we understood the phenomenon better.

Current sensibilities, unfortunately, are very different. In modern intellectual life the overriding moral imperative in analyzing rape is to proclaim that rape has nothing to do with sex. The mantra must be repeated whenever the subject comes up. “Rape is an abuse of power and control in which the rapist seeks to humiliate, shame, embarrass, degrade, and terrify the victim,” the United Nations declared in 1993. “The primary objective is to exercise power and control over another person.”⁸¹ This was echoed in a 2001 Boston Globe op-ed piece that said, “Rape is not about sex; it is about violence and the use of sex to exert power and control.... Domestic violence and sexual assault are manifestations of the same powerful social forces: sexism and the glorification of violence.”⁸² When an iconoclastic columnist wrote a dissenting article on rape and battering, a reader responded:

As a man who has been actively engaged for more than a decade as an educator and a counselor to help men to stop their violence against women, I find Cathy Young's Oct. 15 column disturbing and discouraging. She confuses issues by failing to acknowledge that men are socialized in a patriarchal culture that still supports their violence against women if they choose it.⁸³

So steeped in the prevailing ideology was this counselor that he didn't notice that Young was arguing against the dogma he took as self-evidently true, not “failing to acknowledge” it. And his wording — “men are socialized in a patriarchal culture” — reproduces a numbingly familiar slogan.  {361} 

The official theory of rape originated in an important 1975 book, Against Our Will, by the gender feminist Susan Brownmiller. The book became an emblem of a revolution in our handling of rape that is one of second-wave feminism's greatest accomplishments. Until the 1970s, rape was often treated by the legal system and popular culture with scant attention to the interests of women. Victims had to prove they resisted their attackers to within an inch of their lives or else they were seen as having consented. Their style of dress was seen as a mitigating factor, as if men couldn't control themselves when an attractive woman walked by. Also mitigating was the woman's sexual history, as if choosing to have sex with one man on one occasion were the same as agreeing to have sex with any man on any occasion. Standards of proof that were not required for other violent crimes, such as eyewitness corroboration, were imposed on charges of rape. Women's consent was often treated lightly in the popular media. It was not uncommon in movies for a reluctant woman to be handled roughly by a man and then melt into his arms. The suffering of rape victims was treated lightly as well; I remember teenage girls, in the wake of the sexual revolution in the early 1970s, joking to one another, “If a rape is inevitable, you might as well lie back and enjoy it.” Marital rape was not a crime, date rape was not a concept, and rape during wartime was left out of the history books. These affronts to humanity are gone or on the wane in Western democracies, and feminism deserves credit for this moral advance.

But Brownmiller's theory went well beyond the moral principle that women have a right not to be sexually assaulted. It said that rape had nothing to do with an individual man's desire for sex but was a tactic by which the entire male gender oppressed the entire female gender. In her famous words:

Man's discovery that his genitalia could serve as a weapon to generate fear must rank as one of the most important discoveries of prehistoric times, along with the use of fire and the first crude stone axe. From prehistoric times to the present, I believe, rape has played a critical function ... it is nothing more or less than a conscious process of intimidation by which all men keep all women in a state of fear.⁸⁴

This grew into the modern catechism: rape is not about sex, our culture socializes men to rape, it glorifies violence against women. The analysis comes right out of the gender-feminist theory of human nature: people are blank slates (who must be trained or socialized to want things); the only significant human motive is power (so sexual desire is irrelevant); and all motives and interests must be located in groups (such as the male sex and the female sex) rather than in individual people.

The Brownmiller theory is appealing even to people who are not gender  {362}  feminists because of the doctrine of the Noble Savage. Since the 1960s most educated people have come to believe that sex should be thought of as natural, not shameful or dirty. Sex is good because sex is natural and natural things are good. But rape is bad; therefore, rape is not about sex. The motive to rape must come from social institutions, not from anything in human nature.

The violence-not-sex slogan is right about two things. Both parts are absolutely true for the victim: a woman who is raped experiences it as a violent assault, not as a sexual act. And the part about violence is true for the perpetrator by definition: if there is no violence or coercion, we do not call it rape. But the fact that rape has something to do with violence does not mean it has nothing to do with sex, any more than the fact that armed robbery has something to do with violence means it has nothing to do with greed. Evil men may use violence to get sex, just as they use violence to get other things they want.

I believe that the rape-is-not-about-sex doctrine will go down in history as an example of extraordinary popular delusions and the madness of crowds. It is preposterous on the face of it, does not deserve its sanctity, is contradicted by a mass of evidence, and is getting in the way of the only morally relevant goal surrounding rape, the effort to stamp it out.

Think about it. First obvious fact: Men often want to have sex with women who don't want to have sex with them. They use every tactic that one human being uses to affect the behavior of another: wooing, seducing, flattering, deceiving, sulking, and paying. Second obvious fact: Some men use violence to get what they want, indifferent to the suffering they cause. Men have been known to kidnap children for ransom (sometimes sending their parents an ear or finger to show they mean business), blind the victim of a mugging so the victim can't identify them in court, shoot out the kneecaps of an associate as punishment for ratting to the police or invading their territory, and kill a stranger for his brand-name athletic footwear. It would be an extraordinary fact, contradicting everything else we know about people, if some men didn't use violence to get sex.

Let's also apply common sense to the doctrine that men rape to further the interests of their gender. A rapist always risks injury at the hands of the woman defending herself. In a traditional society, he risks torture, mutilation, and death at the hands of her relatives. In a modern society, he risks a long prison term. Are rapists really assuming these risks as an altruistic sacrifice to benefit the billions of strangers that make up the male gender? The idea becomes even less credible when we remember that rapists tend to be losers and nobodies, while presumably the main beneficiaries of the patriarchy are the rich and powerful. Men do sacrifice themselves for the greater good in wartime, of course, but they are either conscripted against their will or promised public adulation when their exploits are made public. But rapists usually  {363}  commit their acts in private and try to keep them secret. And in most times and places, a man who rapes a woman in his community is treated as scum. The idea that all men are engaged in brutal warfare against all women clashes with the elementary fact that men have mothers, daughters, sisters, and wives, whom they care for more than they care for most other men. To put the same point in biological terms, every person's genes are carried in the bodies of other people, half of whom are of the opposite sex.

Yes, we must deplore the sometimes casual treatment of women's autonomy in popular culture. But can anyone believe that our culture literally “teaches men to rape” or “glorifies the rapist”? Even the callous treatment of rape victims in the judicial system of yesteryear has a simpler explanation than that all men benefit by rape. Until recently jurors in rape cases were given a warning from the seventeenth-century jurist Lord Matthew Hale that they should evaluate a woman's testimony with caution, because a rape charge is “easily made and difficult to defend against, even if the accused is innocent.”⁸⁵ The principle is consistent with the presumption of innocence built into our judicial system and with its preference to let ten guilty people go free rather than jail one innocent. Even so, let's suppose that the men who applied this policy to rape did tilt it toward their own collective interests. Let's suppose that they leaned on the scales of justice to minimize their own chances of ever being falsely accused of rape (or accused under ambiguous circumstances) and that they placed insufficient value on the injustice endured by women who would not see their assailants put behind bars. That would indeed be unjust, but it is still not the same thing as encouraging rape as a conscious tactic to keep women down. If that were men's tactic, why would they have made rape a crime in the first place?

As for the morality of believing the not-sex theory, there is none. If we have to acknowledge that sexuality can be a source of conflict and not just wholesome mutual pleasure, we will have rediscovered a truth that observers of the human condition have noted throughout history. And if a man rapes for sex, that does not mean that he “just can't help it” or that we have to excuse him, any more than we have to excuse the man who shoots the owner of a liquor store to raid the cash register or who bashes a driver over the head to steal his BMW. The great contribution of feminism to the morality of rape is to put issues of consent and coercion at center stage. The ultimate motives of the rapist are irrelevant.

Finally, think about the humanity of the picture that the gender-feminist theory has painted. As the equity feminist Wendy McElroy points out, the theory holds that “even the most loving and gentle husband, father, and son is a beneficiary of the rape of women they love. No ideology that makes such vicious accusations against men as a class can heal any wounds. It can only provoke hostility in return.”⁸⁶  {364} 

~

Brownmiller asked a revealing rhetorical question:

Does one need scientific methodology in order to conclude that the anti-female propaganda that permeates our nation's cultural output promotes a climate in which acts of sexual hostility directed against women are not only tolerated but ideologically encouraged?

McElroy responded: “The answer is a clear and simple ‘yes.’ One needs scientific methodology to verify any empirical claim.” And she called attention to the consequences of Brownmiller's attitude: “One of the casualties of the new dogma on rape has been research. It is no longer ‘sexually correct’ to conduct studies on the causes of rape, because — as any right-thinking person knows — there is only one cause: patriarchy. Decades ago, during the heyday of liberal feminism and sexual curiosity, the approach to research was more sophisticated.”⁸⁷ McElroy's suspicions are borne out by a survey of published “studies” of rape that found that fewer than one in ten tested hypotheses or used scientific methods.⁸⁸

Scientific research on rape and its connections to human nature was thrown into the spotlight in 2000 with the publication of A Natural History of Rape. Thornhill and Palmer began with a basic observation: a rape can result in a conception, which could propagate the genes of the rapist, including any genes that had made him likely to rape. Therefore, a male psychology that included a capacity to rape would not have been selected against, and could have been selected for. Thornhill and Palmer argued that rape is unlikely to be a typical mating strategy because of the risk of injury at the hands of the victim and her relatives and the risk of ostracism from the community. But it could be an opportunistic tactic, becoming more likely when the man is unable to win the consent of women, alienated from a community (and thus undeterred by ostracism), and safe from detection and punishment (such as in wartime or pogroms). Thornhill and Palmer then outlined two theories. Opportunistic rape could be a Darwinian adaptation that was specifically selected for, as in certain insects that have an appendage with no function other than restraining a female during forced copulation. Or rape could be a by-product of two other features of the male mind: a desire for sex and a capacity to engage in opportunistic violence in pursuit of a goal. The two authors disagreed on which hypothesis was better supported by the data, and they left that issue unresolved.

No honest reader could conclude that the authors think rape is “natural” in the vernacular sense of being welcome or unavoidable. The first words of the book are, “As scientists who would like to see rape eradicated from human life ...,” which are certainly not the words of people who think it is inevitable. Thornhill and Palmer discuss the environmental circumstances that  {365}  affect the likelihood of rape, and they offer suggestions on how to reduce it. The idea that most men have the capacity to rape works, if anything, in the interests of women, because it calls for vigilance against acquaintance rape, marital rape, and rape during societal breakdowns. Indeed, the analysis jibes with Brownmiller's own data that ordinary men, including “nice” American boys in Vietnam, may rape in wartime. For that matter, Thornhill and Palmer's hypothesis that rape is on a continuum with the rest of male sexuality makes them strange allies with the most radical gender feminists, such as Catharine MacKinnon and Andrea Dworkin, who said that “seduction is often difficult to distinguish from rape. In seduction, the rapist often bothers to buy a bottle of wine.”⁸⁹

Most important, the book focuses in equal part on the pain of the victims. (Its draft title was Why Men Rape, Why Women Suffer.) Thornhill and Palmer explain in Darwinian terms why females throughout the animal kingdom resist being forced into sex, and argue that the agony that rape victims feel is deeply rooted in women's nature. Rape subverts female choice, the core of the ubiquitous mechanism of sexual selection. By choosing the male and the circumstances for sex, a female can maximize the chances that her offspring will be fathered by a male with good genes, a willingness and ability to share the responsibility of rearing the offspring, or both. As John Tooby and Leda Cosmides have put it, this ultimate (evolutionary) calculus explains why women evolved “to exert control over their own sexuality, over the terms of their relationships, and over the choice of which men are to be the fathers of their children.” They resist being raped, and they suffer when their resistance fails, because “control over their sexual choices and relationships was wrested from them.”⁹⁰

Thornhill and Palmer's theory reinforces many points of an equity-feminist analysis. It predicts that from the woman's point of view, rape and consensual sex are completely different. It affirms that women's repugnance toward rape is not a symptom of neurotic repression, nor is it a social construct that could easily be the reverse in a different culture. It predicts that the suffering caused by rape is deeper than the suffering caused by other physical traumas or body violations. That justifies our working harder to prevent rape, and punishing the perpetrators more severely, than we do for other kinds of assault. Compare this analysis with the dubious claim by two gender feminists that an aversion to rape has to be pounded into women by every social influence they can think of:

Female fear... [results] not only from women's personal backgrounds but from what women as a group have imbibed from history, religion, culture, social institutions, and everyday social interactions. Learned early in life, female fear is continually reinforced by such  {366}  social institutions as the school, the church, the law, and the press. Much is also learned from parents, siblings, teachers, and friends.⁹¹

But despite the congeniality of their analysis to women's interests, Thornhill and Palmer had broken a taboo, and the response was familiar: there were demonstrations, disruptions of lectures, and invective that would curdle your hair, as the popular malaprop has it. “Latest nauseating scientific theory” was a typical reaction, and radical scientists applied their usual standards of accuracy to denounce it. Hilary Rose, discussing a presentation of the theory by another biologist, wrote, “The sociobiologist David Barash's appeal in defense of his misogynist claims that men are naturally predisposed to rape, ‘If Nature is sexist don't blame her sons,’ can no longer plug into the old deference to science as the view from nowhere.”⁹² Barash, of course, had said no such thing; he had referred to rapists as criminals who should be punished. The science writer Margaret Wertheim began her review of Thornhill and Palmer's book by calling attention to a recent epidemic of rape in South Africa.⁹³ Pitting the theory that rape is “a byproduct of social conditioning and chaos” against the theory that rape has evolutionary and genetic origins, she sarcastically wrote that if the latter were true, “South Africa must be a hothouse for such genes.” Two slurs for the price of one: the statement puts Thornhill and Palmer on the simplistic side of a false dichotomy (in fact, they devote many pages to the social conditions fostering rape) and slips in the innuendo that their theory is racist, too. The psychologist Geoffrey Miller, in his own mixed review of the book, diagnosed the popular reaction:

The Natural History of Rape has already suffered the worst possible fate for a popular science book. Like The Descent of Man and The Bell Curve, it has become an ideological touchstone. People who wish to demonstrate their sympathy for rape victims and women in general have already learned that they must dismiss this book as sexist, reactionary pseudo-science. News stories that treat the book as a symptom of chauvinist cultural decay have greatly outnumbered reviews that assess it as science. Viewed sociologically, turning books into ideological touchstones can be useful. People can efficiently sort themselves out into like-minded cliques without bothering to read or think. However, there can be more to human discourse than ideological self-advertisement.⁹⁴

It's unfortunate that Thornhill and Palmer themselves set up a dichotomy between the theory that rape is an adaptation (a specifically selected sexual strategy) and the theory that it is a by-product (a consequence of using violence in general), because it diverted attention from the more basic claim that rape has something to do with sex. I think their dichotomy is drawn too  {367}  sharply. Male sexuality may have evolved in a world in which women were more discriminating than men about partners and occasions for sex. That would have led men to treat female reluctance as an obstacle to be overcome. (Another way to put it is that one can imagine a species in which the male could become sexually interested only if he detected reciprocal signs of interest on the part of the female, but that humans do not appear to be such a species.) How the woman's reluctance is overcome depends on the rest of the man's psychology and on his assessment of the circumstances. His usual tactics may include being kind, persuading the woman of his good intentions, and offering the proverbial bottle of wine, but may become increasingly coercive as certain risk factors are multiplied in: the man is a psychopath (hence insensitive to the suffering of others), an outcast (hence immune to ostracism), a loser (with no other means to get sex), or a soldier or ethnic rioter who considers an enemy subhuman and thinks he can get away with it. Certainly most men in ordinary circumstances do not harbor a desire to rape. According to surveys, violent rape is unusual in pornography and sexual fantasies, and according to laboratory studies of men's sexual arousal, depictions of actual violence toward a woman or signs of her pain and humiliation are a turnoff.⁹⁵

What about the more basic question of whether the motives of rapists include sex? The gender-feminist argument that they do not points to the rapists who target older, infertile women, those who suffer from sexual dysfunction during the rape, those who coerce nonreproductive sexual acts, and those who use a condom. The argument is unconvincing for two reasons. First, these examples make up a minority of rapes, so the argument could be turned around to show that most rapes do have a sexual motive. And all these phenomena occur with consensual sex, too, so the argument leads to the absurdity that sex itself has nothing to do with sex. And date rape is a particularly problematic case for the not-sex theory. Most people agree that women have the right to say no at any point during sexual activity, and that if the man persists he is a rapist — but should we also believe that his motive has instantaneously changed from wanting sex to oppressing women?

On the other side there is an impressive body of evidence (reviewed more thoroughly by the legal scholar Owen Jones than by Thornhill and Palmer) that the motives for rape overlap with the motives for sex:⁹⁶

• Coerced copulation is widespread among species in the animal kingdom, suggesting that it is not selected against and may sometimes be selected for. It is found in many species of insects, birds, and mammals, including our relatives the orangutans, gorillas, and chimpanzees.

• Rape is found in all human societies.

• Rapists generally apply as much force as is needed to coerce the victim into sex. They rarely inflict a serious or fatal injury, which would preclude  {368}  conception and birth. Only 4 percent of rape victims sustain serious injuries, and fewer than one in five hundred is murdered.

• Victims of rape are mostly in the peak reproductive years for women, between thirteen and thirty-five, with a mean in most data sets of twenty-four. Though many rape victims are classified as children (under the age of sixteen), most of these are adolescents, with a median age of fourteen. The age distribution is very different from that of victims of other violent crimes, and is the opposite of what would happen if rape victims were picked for their physical vulnerability or by their likelihood of holding positions of power.

• Victims of rape are more traumatized when the rape can result in a conception. It is most psychologically painful for women in their fertile years, and for victims of forced intercourse as opposed to other forms of rape.

• Rapists are not demographically representative of the male gender. They are overwhelmingly young men, the age of the most intense sexual competitiveness. The young males who allegedly have been “socialized” to rape mysteriously lose that socialization as they get older.

• Though most rapes do not result in conception, many do. About 5 percent of rape victims of reproductive age become pregnant, resulting in more than 32,000 rape-related pregnancies in the United States each year. (That is why abortion in the case of rape is a significant issue.) The proportion would have been even higher in prehistory, when women did not use long-term contraception.⁹⁷ Brownmiller wrote that biological theories of rape are “fanciful” because “in terms of reproductive strategy, the hit or miss ejaculations of a single-strike rapist are a form of Russian roulette compared to ongoing consensual mating.”⁹⁸ But ongoing consensual mating is not an option for every male, and dispositions that resulted in hit-or-miss sex could be evolutionarily more successful than dispositions that resulted in no sex at all. Natural selection can operate effectively with small reproductive advantages, as little as 1 percent.

~

The payoff for a reality-based understanding of rape is the hope of reducing or eliminating it. Given the theories on the table, the possible sites for levers of influence include violence, sexist attitudes, and sexual desire.

Everyone agrees that rape is a crime of violence. Probably the biggest amplifier of rape is lawlessness. The rape and abduction of women is often a goal of raiding in non-state societies, and rape is common in wars between states and riots between ethnic groups. In peacetime, the rates of rape tend to track rates of other violent crime. In the United States, for example, the rate of forcible rape went up in the 1960s and down in the 1990s, together with the rates of other violent crimes.⁹⁹ Gender feminists blame violence against women on civilization and social institutions, but this is exactly backwards.  {369}  Violence against women flourishes in societies that are outside the reach of civilization, and erupts whenever civilization breaks down.

Though I know of no quantitative studies, the targeting of sexist attitudes does not seem to be a particularly promising avenue for reducing rape, though of course it is desirable for other reasons. Countries with far more rigid gender roles than the United States, such as Japan, have far lower rates of rape, and within the United States the sexist 1950s were far safer for women than the more liberated 1970s and 1980s. If anything, the correlation might go in the opposite direction. As women gain greater freedom of movement because they are independent of men, they will more often find themselves in dangerous situations.

What about measures that focus on the sexual components of rape? Thornhill and Palmer suggested that teenage boys be forced to take a rape-prevention course as a condition for obtaining a driver's license, and that women should be reminded that dressing in a sexually attractive way may increase their risk of being raped. These untested prescriptions are an excellent illustration of why scientists should stay out of the policy business, but they don't deserve the outrage that followed. Mary Koss, described as an authority on rape, said, “The thinking is absolutely unacceptable in a democratic society.” (Note the psychology of taboo — not only is their suggestion wrong, but merely thinking it is “absolutely unacceptable.”) Koss continues, “Because rape is a gendered crime, such recommendations harm equality. They infringe more on women's liberties than men's.”¹⁰⁰

One can understand the repugnance at any suggestion that an attractively dressed woman excites an irresistible impulse to rape, or that culpability in any crime should be shifted from the perpetrator to the victim. But Thornhill and Palmer said neither of those things. They were offering a recommendation based on prudence, not an assignment of blame based on justice. Of course women have a right to dress in any way they please, but the issue is not what women have the right to do in a perfect world but how they can maximize their safety in this world. The suggestion that women in dangerous situations be mindful of reactions they may be eliciting or signals they may inadvertently be sending is just common sense, and it's hard to believe any grownup would think otherwise — unless she has been indoctrinated by the standard rape-prevention programs that tell women that “sexual assault is not an act of sexual gratification” and that “appearance and attractiveness are not relevant.”¹⁰¹ Equity feminists have called attention to the irresponsibility of such advice, in terms far harsher than anything by Thornhill and Palmer. Paglia, for example, wrote:

For a decade, feminists have drilled their disciples to say, “Rape is a crime of violence but not sex.” This sugar-coated Shirley Temple  {370}  nonsense has exposed young women to disaster. Misled by feminism, they do not expect rape from the nice boys from good homes who sit next to them in class....

These girls say, “Well, I should be able to get drunk at a fraternity party and go upstairs to a guy's room without anything happening.” And I say, “Oh, really? And when you drive your car to New York City, do you leave your keys on the hood?” My point is that if your car is stolen after you do something like that, yes, the police should pursue the thief and he should be punished. But at the same time, the police — and I — have the right to say to you, “You stupid idiot, what the hell were you thinking?”¹⁰²

Similarly, McElroy points out the illogic of arguments like Koss's that women should not be given practical advice that “infringes more on women's liberties than men's":

The fact that women are vulnerable to attack means we cannot have it all. We cannot walk at night across an unlit campus or down a back alley, without incurring real danger. These are things every woman should be able to do, but “shoulds” belong in a Utopian world. They belong in a world where you drop your wallet in a crowd and have it returned, complete with credit cards and cash. A world in which unlocked Porsches are parked in the inner city. And children can be left unattended in the park. This is not the reality that confronts and confines us.¹⁰³

The flight from reality of the rape-is-not-sex doctrine warps not just advice to women but policies for deterring rapists. Some prison systems put sex offenders in group therapy and psychodrama sessions designed to uproot experiences of childhood abuse. The goal is to convince the offenders that aggression against women is a way of acting out anger at their mothers, fathers, and society. (A sympathetic story in the Boston Globe concedes that “there is no way to know what the success rate of [the] therapy is.”)¹⁰⁴ Another program reeducates batterers and rapists with “pro-feminist therapy” consisting of lectures on patriarchy, heterosexism, and the connections between domestic violence and racial oppression. In an article entitled “The Patriarchy Made Me Do It,” the psychiatrist Sally Satel comments, “While it's tempting to conclude that perhaps pro-feminist ‘therapy’ is just what a violent man deserves, the tragic fact is that truly victimized women are put in even more danger when their husbands undergo a worthless treatment.”¹⁰⁵ Savvy offenders who learn to mouth the right psychobabble or feminist slogans can be seen as successfully treated, which can win them earlier release and the opportunity to prey on women anew.  {371} 

In his thoughtful review, Jones explores how the legal issues surrounding rape can be clarified by a more sophisticated understanding that does not rule the sexual component out of bounds. One example is “chemical castration,” voluntary injections of the drug Depo-Provera, which inhibits the release of androgens and reduces the offender's sex drive. It is sometimes given to offenders who are morbidly obsessed with sex and compulsively commit crimes such as rape, indecent exposure, and child abuse. Chemical castration can cut recidivism rates dramatically — in one study, from 46 percent to 3 percent. Use of the drug certainly raises serious constitutional issues about privacy and punishment, which biology alone cannot decide. But the issues become cloudier, not clearer, when commentators declare a priori that “castration will not work because rape is not a crime about sex, but rather a crime about power and violence.”

Jones is not advocating chemical castration (and neither am I). He is asking people to look at all the options for reducing rape and to evaluate them carefully and with an open mind. Anyone who is incensed by the very idea of mentioning rape and sex in the same breath should read the numbers again. If a policy is rejected out of hand that can reduce rape by a factor of fifteen, then many women will be raped who otherwise might not have been. People may have to decide which they value more, an ideology that claims to advance the interests of the female gender or what actually happens in the world to real women.

~

Despite all the steam coming out of people's ears in the modern debate on the sexes, there are wide expanses of common ground. No one wants to accept sex discrimination or rape. No one wants to turn back the clock and empty the universities and professions of women, even if that were possible. No reasonable person can deny that the advances in the freedom of women during the past century are an incalculable enrichment of the human condition.

All the more reason not to get sidetracked by emotionally charged but morally irrelevant red herrings. The sciences of human nature can strengthen the interests of women by separating those herrings from the truly important goals. Feminism as a movement for political and social equity is important, but feminism as an academic clique committed to eccentric doctrines about human nature is not. Eliminating discrimination against women is important, but believing that women and men are born with indistinguishable minds is not. Freedom of choice is important, but ensuring that women make up exactly 50 percent of all professions is not. And eliminating sexual assaults is important, but advancing the theory that rapists are doing their part in a vast male conspiracy is not.

Chapter 19

Children

“The nature-nurture debate is over.” So begins a recent article with a title — “Three Laws of Behavior Genetics and What They Mean” — as audacious as its opening sentence.¹ The nature-nurture debate is, of course, far from over when it comes to identifying the endowment shared by all human beings and understanding how it allows us to learn, which is the main topic of the preceding chapters. But when it comes to the question of what makes people within the mainstream of a society different from one another — whether they are smarter or duller, nicer or nastier, bolder or shyer — the nature-nurture debate, as it has been played out for millennia, really is over, or ought to be.

In announcing that the nature-nurture debate is over, the psychologist Eric Turkheimer was not just using the traditional mule-trainer's technique of getting his subjects’ attention, namely whacking them over the head with a two-by-four. He was summarizing a body of empirical results that are unusually robust by the standards of psychology. They have been replicated in many studies, several countries, and over four decades. As the samples grew (often to many thousands), the tools were improved, and the objections were addressed, the results, like the Star-Spangled Banner, were still there.

The three laws of behavioral genetics may be the most important discoveries in the history of psychology. Yet most psychologists have not come to grips with them, and most intellectuals do not understand them, even when they have been explained in the cover stories of newsmagazines. It is not because the laws are abstruse: each can be stated in a sentence, without mathematical paraphernalia. Rather, it is because the laws run roughshod over the Blank Slate, and the Blank Slate is so entrenched that many intellectuals cannot comprehend an alternative to it, let alone argue about whether it is right or wrong.

Here are the three laws:  {373} 

• The First Law: All human behavioral traits are heritable.

• The Second Law: The effect of being raised in the same family is smaller than the effect of the genes.

• The Third Law: A substantial portion of the variation in complex human behavioral traits is not accounted for by the effects of genes or families.

The laws are about what make us what we are (compared with our compatriots) and thus they are about the forces that impinge on us in childhood, the stage of life in which it is thought that our intellects and personalities are formed. “Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined,” wrote Alexander Pope. “The child is father of the man,” wrote Wordsworth, echoing Milton's “The childhood shows the man as morning shows the day.” The Jesuits used to say, “Give me the child for the first seven years, and I'll give you the man,” and the motto was used as the tag line of the documentary film series by Michael Apted that follows a cohort of British children every seven years (Seven Up, Fourteen Up, and so on). In this chapter I will walk you through the laws and explore what they mean for nature, nurture, and none of the above.

~

The First Law: All human behavioral traits are heritable. Let's begin at the beginning. What is a “behavioral trait”? In many studies it is a stable property of a person that can be measured by standardized psychological tests. Intelligence tests ask people to recite a string of digits backwards, define words like reluctant and remorse, identify what an egg and a seed have in common, assemble four triangles into a square, and extrapolate sequences of geometric patterns. Personality tests ask people to agree or disagree with statements like “Often I cross the street in order not to meet someone I know,” “I do not blame a person for taking advantage of someone who lays himself open to it,” “Before I do something I try to consider how my friends will react to it,” and “People say insulting and vulgar things about me.” It sounds dodgy, but the tests have been amply validated: they give pretty much the same result each time a person is tested, and they statistically predict what they ought to predict reasonably well. IQ tests predict performance in school and on the job, and personality profiles correlate with other people's judgments of the person and with life outcomes such as psychiatric diagnoses, marriage stability, and brushes with the law.²

In other studies behavior is recorded more directly. Graduate students hang out in a schoolyard with a stopwatch and clipboard observing what the children do. Pupils are rated for aggressiveness by several teachers, and the ratings are averaged. People report how much television they watch or how many cigarettes they smoke. Researchers tally cut-and-dried outcomes such as high school graduation rates, criminal convictions, or divorces.

Once the measurements are made, the variance of the sample may be  {374}  calculated: the average squared deviation of each person's score from the group mean. The variance is a number that captures the degree to which the members of a group differ from one another. For example, the variance in weight in a sample of Labrador retrievers will be smaller than the variance in weight in a sample that contains dogs of different breeds. Variance can be carved into pieces. It is mathematically meaningful to say that a certain percentage of the variance in a group overlaps with one factor (perhaps, though not necessarily, its cause), another percentage overlaps with a second factor, and so on, the percentages adding up to 100. The degree of overlap may be measured as a correlation coefficient, a number between –1 and +1 that captures the degree to which people who are high on one measurement are also high on another measurement. It is used in behavioral genetic research as an estimate of the proportion of variance accounted for by some factor.³

Heritability is the proportion of variance in a trait that correlates with genetic differences. It can be measured in several ways.⁴ The simplest is to take the correlation between identical twins who were separated at birth and reared apart. They share all their genes and none of their environment (relative to the variation among environments in the sample), so any correlation between them must be an effect of their genes. Alternatively, one can compare identical twins reared together, who share all their genes and most of their environment, with fraternal twins reared together, who share half their genes and most of their environment (to be exact, they share half of the genes that vary among the people within the sample — obviously they share all the genes that are universal across the human species). If the correlation is higher for pairs of identical twins, it presumably reflects an effect of the extra genes they have in common. The bigger the difference between the two correlations, the higher the heritability estimate. Yet another technique is to compare biological siblings, who share half their genes and most of their environment, with adoptive siblings, who share none of their genes (among those that vary) and most of their environment.

The results come out roughly the same no matter what is measured or how it is measured. Identical twins reared apart are highly similar; identical twins reared together are more similar than fraternal twins reared together; biological siblings are far more similar than adoptive siblings.⁵ All this translates into substantial heritability values, generally between .25 and .75. A conventional summary is that about half of the variation in intelligence, personality, and life outcomes is heritable — a correlate or an indirect product of the genes. It's hard to be much more precise than that, because heritability values vary within this range for a number of reasons.⁶ One is whether measurement error (random noise) is included in the total variance to be explained or is estimated and pulled out of the equation. Another is whether all the effects of the genes are being estimated or only the additive effects: the ones that exert the same  {375}  influence regardless of the person's other genes (in other words, the genes for traits that breed true). A third is how much variation there was in the sample to begin with: samples with homogeneous environments give large heritability estimates, those with varied environments give smaller ones. A fourth is when in the person's lifetime a trait is measured. The heritability of intelligence, for example, increases over the lifespan, and can be as high as .8 late in life.⁷ Forget “As the twig is bent”; think “Omigod, I'm turning into my parents!”

“All traits are heritable” is a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much.⁸ Concrete behavioral traits that patently depend on content provided by the home or culture are, of course, not heritable at all: which language you speak, which religion you worship in, which political party you belong to. But behavioral traits that reflect the underlying talents and temperaments are heritable: how proficient with language you are, how religious, how liberal or conservative. General intelligence is heritable, and so are the five major ways in which personality can vary (summarized by the acronym OCEAN): openness to experience, conscientiousness, extroversion-introversion, antagonism-agreeableness, and neuroticism. And traits that are surprisingly specific turn out to be heritable, too, such as dependence on nicotine or alcohol, number of hours of television watched, and likelihood of divorcing. Finally there are the Mallifert brothers in Chas Addams's patent office and their real-world counterparts: the identical twins separated at birth who both grew up to be captains of their volunteer fire departments, who both twirled their necklaces when answering questions, or who both told the researcher picking them up at the airport (separately) that a wheel bearing in his car needed to be replaced.

I once watched an interview in which Marlon Brando was asked about the childhood influences that made him an actor. He replied that identical twins separated at birth may both use the same hair tonic, smoke the same brand of cigarettes, vacation on the same beach, and so on. The interviewer, Connie Chung, pretended to snore as if she were sitting through a boring lecture, not realizing that he was answering her question — or, more accurately, explaining why he couldn't answer it. As long as the heritability of talents and tastes is not zero, none of us has any way of knowing whether a trait has been influenced by our genes, our childhood experiences, both, or neither. Chung is not alone in her failure to understand this point. The First Law implies that any study that measures something in parents and something in their biological children and then draws conclusions about the effects of parenting is worthless, because the correlations may simply reflect their shared genes (aggressive parents may breed aggressive children, talkative parents talkative children). But these expensive studies continue to be done and continue to be translated into parenting advice as if the heritability of all traits were zero. Perhaps Brando should be asked to serve on grant review panels.

Behavioral genetics does have its critics, who have tried to find alternative  {376}  interpretations for the First Law. Perhaps children separated at birth are deliberately placed in similar adoptive families. Perhaps they have contact with each other during their separation. Perhaps parents expect identical twins to be more alike and so treat them more alike. Twins share a womb, not just their genes, and identical twins sometimes share a chorion (the membrane surrounding the fetus) and a placenta as well. Perhaps it is their shared prenatal experience, not their shared genes, that makes them more alike.

These possibilities have been tested, and though in some cases they may knock down a heritability estimate by a few points, they cannot reduce it by much.⁹ The properties of adoptive parents and homes have been measured (their education, socioeconomic status, personalities, and so on), and they are not homogeneous enough to force identical twins into the same personalities and temperaments.¹⁰ Identical twins are not earmarked for homes that both encourage twirling necklaces or sneezing in elevators. More important, the homes of identical twins who were separated at birth are no more similar than the homes of fraternal twins who were separated at birth, yet the identical twins are far more similar.¹¹ And most important of all, differences in home environments do not produce differences in grown children's intelligence and personality anyway (as we shall see in examining the Second Law), so the argument is moot.

As for contact between separated twins, it is unlikely that an occasional encounter between two people could revamp their personality and intelligence, but in any case the amount of contact turns out to have no correlation with the twins’ degree of similarity.¹² What about the expectations of parents, friends, and peers? A neat test is provided by identical twins who are mistakenly thought to be fraternal until a genetic test shows otherwise. If it is expectations that make identical twins alike, these twins should not be alike; if it is the genes, they should be. In fact the twins are as alike as when the parents know they are identical.¹³ And direct measures of how similarly twins are treated by their parents do not correlate with measures of how similar they are in intelligence or personality.¹⁴ Finally, sharing a placenta can make identical twins more different, not just more similar (since one twin can crowd out the other), which is why studies have shown little or no consistent effect of sharing a placenta.¹⁵ But even if it were to make them more similar, the inflation of heritability would be modest. As the behavioral geneticist Matt McGue noted of a recent mathematical model that tried to use prenatal effects to push down heritability estimates as much as possible, “That the IQ debate now centers on whether IQ is 50% or 70% heritable is a remarkable indication of how the nature-nurture debate has shifted over the past two decades.”¹⁶ In any case, studies comparing adoptees with biological siblings don't look at twins at all, and they come to the same conclusions as the twin studies, so no peculiarity of twinhood is likely to overturn the First Law.  {377} 

Behavioral genetic methods do have three built-in limitations. First, studies of twins, siblings, and adoptees can help explain what makes people different, but they cannot explain what people have in common, that is, universal human nature. To say that the heritability of intelligence is .5, for example, does not imply that half of a person's intelligence is inherited (whatever that would mean); it implies only that half of the variation among people is inherited. Behavioral genetic studies of pathological conditions, such as those discussed in Chapters 3 and 4, can shed light on universal human nature, but they are not relevant to the topics of this chapter.

Second, behavioral genetic methods address variation within the group of people being examined, not variation between groups of people. If the twins or adoptees in a sample are all middle-class American whites, a heritability estimate can tell us about why middle-class American whites differ from other-middle-class American whites, but not why the middle class differs from the lower or upper class, why Americans differ from non-Americans, or why whites differ from Asians or blacks.

Third, behavioral genetic methods can show only that traits correlate with genes, not that they are directly caused by them. The methods cannot distinguish traits that are relatively direct products of the genes — the result of genes that affect the wiring or metabolism of the brain — from traits that are highly indirect products, say, the result of having genes for a certain physical appearance. We know that tall men on average are promoted in their jobs more rapidly than short men, and that attractive people on average are more assertive than unattractive ones.¹⁷ (In one experiment, subjects undergoing a fake interview had to cool their heels when the interviewer was called out of the room by a staged interruption. The plain-looking subjects waited nine minutes before complaining; the attractive ones waited three minutes and twenty seconds.)¹⁸ Presumably people defer to tall and good-looking people, and that makes them more successful and entitled. Height and looks are obviously heritable, so if we didn't know about the effects of looks, we might think that these people's success comes directly from genes for ambition and assertiveness instead of coming indirectly from genes for long legs or a cute nose. The moral is that heritability always has to be interpreted in the light of all the evidence; it does not wear its meaning on its sleeve. That having been said, we know that the heritability of personality cannot, in fact, be reduced to genes for appearance. The effects of looks on personality are small and limited; blond jokes notwithstanding, not all attractive women are vain and entitled. The heritability of personality traits, in contrast, is large and pervasive, too large to be explained away as a by-product of looks.¹⁹ And as we saw in Chapter 3, personality traits can in some cases be tied to actual genes with products in the nervous system. With the completion of the Human Genome Project, it is likely that geneticists soon will be discovering more of those linkages.  {378} 

The First Law is a pain in the neck for radical scientists, who have tried unsuccessfully to discredit it. In 1974, Leon Kamin wrote that “there exist no data which should lead a prudent man to accept the hypothesis that IQ test scores are in any degree heritable,” a conclusion he reiterated with Lewontin and Rose a decade later.²⁰ Even in the 1970s the argument was tortuous, but by the 1980s it was desperate and today it is a historical curiosity.²¹ As usual, the attacks have not always come in dispassionate scholarly analyses. Thomas Bouchard, who directed the first large-scale study of twins reared apart, is one of the pioneers of the study of the genetics of personality. Campus activists at the University of Minnesota distributed handouts calling him a racist and linking him to “German fascism,” spray-painted slogans calling him a Nazi, and demanded that he be fired. The psychologist Barry Mehler accused him of “rehabilitating” the work of Josef Mengele, the doctor who tormented twins in the Nazi death camps under the guise of research. As usual, the charges were unfair not just intellectually but personally: far from being a fascist, Bouchard was a participant in the Berkeley Free Speech Movement of the 1960s, was briefly jailed for his activism, and says he would do it again today.²²

These attacks are transparently political and easy to discount. More pernicious is the way that the First Law is commonly interpreted: “So you're saying it's all in the genes,” or, more angrily, “Genetic determinism!” I have already commented on this odd reflex in modern intellectual life: when it comes to genes, people suddenly lose their ability to distinguish 50 percent from 100 percent, “some” from “all,” “affects” from “determines.” The diagnosis for this intellectual crippling is clear: if the effects of the genes must, on theological grounds, be zero, then all nonzero values are equivalently heretical.

But the worst fallout from the Blank Slate is not that people misunderstand the effects of the genes. It is that they misunderstand the effects of the environment.

~

The Second Law: The effect of being raised in the same family is smaller than the effect of the genes. By now you appreciate that our genes play a role in making us different from our neighbors, and that our environments play an equally important role. At this point everyone draws the same conclusion. We are shaped both by our genes and by our family upbringing: how our parents treated us and what kind of home we grew up in.

Not so fast. Behavioral genetics allows us to distinguish two very different ways in which our environments might affect us.²³ The shared environment is what impinges on us and our siblings alike: our parents, our home life, and our neighborhood (as compared with other parents and neighborhoods in the sample). The nonshared or unique environment is everything else: anything that impinges on one sibling but not another, including parental favoritism (Mom always liked you best), the presence of the other siblings, unique  {379}  experiences like falling off a bicycle or being infected by a virus, and for that matter anything that happens to us over the course of our lives that does not necessarily happen to our siblings.

The effects of the shared environment can be measured in twin studies by subtracting the heritabihty value from the correlation between the identical twins. The rationale is that identical twins are alike (measured by the correlation) because of their shared genes (measured by the heritabihty) and their shared environment, so the effects of the shared environment can be estimated by subtracting the heritabihty from the correlation. Alternatively, the effects can be estimated in adoption studies simply by looking at the correlation between two adoptive siblings: they do not share genes, so any similarities (relative to the sample) must come from the experiences they shared growing up in the same home. A third technique is to compare the correlation between siblings reared together (who share genes and a home environment) with the correlation between siblings reared apart (who share only genes).

The effects of the unique environment can be measured by subtracting the correlation between identical twins (who share genes and an environment) from 1 (which is the sum of the effects of the genes, the shared environment, and the unique environment). By the same reasoning, it can be measured in adoption studies by subtracting the heritabihty estimate and the shared-environment estimate from 1. In practice all these calculations are more complicated, because they may try to account for nonadditive effects, where the whole is not the sum of the parts, and for noise in the measurements. But you now have the basic logic behind them.

So what do we find? The effects of shared environment are small (less than 10 percent of the variance), often not statistically significant, often not replicated in other studies, and often a big fat zero.²⁴ Turkheimer was cautious in saying that the effects are smaller than those of the genes. Many behavioral geneticists go farther and say that they are negligible, particularly in adulthood. (IQ is affected by the shared environment in childhood, but over the years the effect peters out to nothing.)

Where do these conclusions come from? The actual findings are easy to understand. First, adult siblings are equally similar whether they grew up together or apart. Second, adoptive siblings are no more similar than two people plucked off the street at random. And third, identical twins are no more similar than one would expect from the effects of their shared genes. As with the First Law, the sheer consistency of the outcome across three completely different methods (comparisons of identical with fraternal twins, of siblings raised together with siblings raised apart, of adoptive siblings with biological siblings) emboldens one to conclude that the pattern is real. Whatever experiences siblings share by growing up in the same home makes little or no difference in the kind of people they turn out to be.  {380} 

An important proviso: Differences among homes don't matter within the samples of homes netted by these studies, which tend to be more middle-class than the population as a whole. But differences between those samples and other kinds of homes could matter. The studies exclude cases of criminal neglect, physical and sexual abuse, and abandonment in a bleak orphanage, so they do not show that extreme cases fail to leave scars. Nor can they say anything about the differences between cultures — about what makes a child a middle-class American as opposed to a Yanomamö warrior or a Tibetan monk or even a member of an urban street gang. In general, if a sample comes from a restricted range of homes, it may underestimate effects of homes across a wider range.²⁵

Despite these caveats, the Second Law is by no means trivial. The “middle class” (which includes most adoptive parents) can embrace a wide range of lifestyles, from fundamentalist Christians in the rural Midwest to Jewish doctors in Manhattan, with very different home environments and childrearing philosophies. Behavioral geneticists have found that their samples of parents in fact span a full range of personality types. And even if adoptive parents are unrepresentative in some other way, the Second Law would survive because it emerges from large studies of twins as well.²⁶ Though samples of adoptive parents span a narrower (and higher) range of IQs than the population at large, that cannot explain why the IQs of their adult children are uncorrelated, because they were correlated when the children were young.²⁷ Before exploring the revolutionary implications of these discoveries, let's turn to the Third Law.

The Third Law: A substantial portion of the variation in complex human behavioral traits is not accounted for by the effects of genes or families. This follows directly from the First Law, assuming that heritabilities are less than one, and the Second Law. If we carve up the variation among people into the effects of the genes, the shared environment, and the unique environment, and if the effects of the genes are greater than zero and less than one, and if the effects of the shared environment hover around zero, then the effects of the unique environment must be greater than zero. In fact, they are around 50 percent, depending as always on what is being measured and exactly how it is estimated. Concretely, this means that identical twins reared together (who share both their genes and a family environment) are far from identical in their intellects and personalities. There must be causes that are neither genetic nor common to the family that make identical twins different and, more generally, make people what they are.²⁸ As with Bob Dylan's Mister Jones, something is happening here but we don't know what it is.

A handy summary of the three laws is this: Genes 50 percent, Shared Environment 0 percent, Unique Environment 50 percent (or if you want to be charitable, Genes 40–50 percent, Shared Environment 0–10 percent, Unique  {381}  Environment 50 percent). A simple way of remembering what we are trying to explain is this: identical twins are 50 percent similar whether they grow up together or apart. Keep this in mind and watch what happens to your favorite ideas about the effects of upbringing in childhood.

~

Though behavioral geneticists have known about the heritability of mental traits (First Law) for decades, it took a while for the absence of effects of the shared environment (Second Law) and the magnitude of the effects of the unique environment (Third Law) to sink in. Robert Plomin and Denise Daniels first sounded the alarm in a 1987 article called “Why Are Children in the Same Family So Different from One Another?” The enigma was noted by other behavioral geneticists such as Thomas Bouchard, Sandra Scarr, and David Lykken and spotlighted again by David Rowe in his 1994 book The Limits of Family Influence. It was also the springboard for the historian Frank Sulloway's widely discussed 1996 book on birth order and revolutionary temperament, Born to Rebel. Still, few people outside behavioral genetics really appreciated the importance of the Second and Third Laws.

It all hit the fan in 1998 when Judith Rich Harris, an unaffiliated scholar (whom the press quickly dubbed “a grandmother from New Jersey”), published The Nurture Assumption. A Newsweek cover story summed up the topic: “Do Parents Matter? A Heated Debate About How Kids Develop.” Harris brought the three laws out of the journals and tried to get people to recognize their implications: that the conventional wisdom about childrearing among experts and laypeople alike is wrong.

It was Rousseau who made parents and children the main actors in the human drama.²⁹ Children are noble savages, and their upbringing and education can either allow their essential nature to blossom or can saddle them with the corrupt baggage of civilization. Twentieth-century versions of the Noble Savage and the Blank Slate kept parents and children at center stage. The behaviorists claimed that children are shaped by contingencies of reinforcement, and advised parents not to respond to their children's distress because it would only reward them for crying and increase the frequency of crying behavior. Freudians theorized that we are shaped by our degree of success in weaning, toilet training, and identification with the parent of the same sex, and advised parents not to bring infants into their beds because it would arouse damaging sexual desires. Everyone theorized that psychological disorders could be blamed on mothers: autism on their coldness, schizophrenia on their “double binds,” anorexia on their pressure on girls to be perfect. Low self-esteem was attributed to “toxic parents” and every other problem to “dysfunctional families.” Patients in many forms of psychotherapy while away their fifty minutes reliving childhood conflicts, and most biographies scavenge through the subject's childhood for the roots of the grownup's tragedies and triumphs.  {382} 

By now most well-educated parents believe that their children's fates are in their hands. They want their children to be popular and self-confident, to get good grades and stay in school, to avoid drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes, to avoid getting pregnant or fathering a child while a teenager, to stay on the right side of the law, and to become happily married and professionally successful. A parade of parenting experts has furnished them with advice, ever changing in content, never changing in certitude, on how to attain that outcome. The current recipe runs something like this. Parents should stimulate their babies with colorful toys and varied experiences. (“Take them outside. Let them feel tree bark,” advised a pediatrician who shared a couch with me on a morning television show.) They should read and talk to their babies as much as possible to foster their language development. They should interact and communicate with their children at all ages, and no amount of time is too much. (“Quality time,” the idea that working parents could spend an intense interlude with their children between dinner and bedtime to make up for their absence during the day, quickly became a national joke; it was seen as a rationalization by mothers who would not admit that their careers were compromising their children's welfare.) Parents should set firm but reasonable limits, neither bossing their children around nor giving them complete license. Physical punishment of any kind is out, because that perpetuates a cycle of violence. Nor should parents belittle their children or say that they are bad, because that will damage their self-esteem. On the contrary, they should shower them with hugs and unconditional affirmations of love and approval. And parents should communicate intensively with their adolescent children and take an interest in every aspect of their lives.

A few parents have begun to question the imperative to become round-the-clock parenting machines. A recent cover story in Newsweek entitled “The Parent Trap” reported on the frazzled mothers and fathers who devote every nonworking minute to entertaining and chauffeuring their children for fear that they will otherwise turn into ne'er-do-wells or cafeteria snipers. A similar story in the Boston Globe Magazine with the ironic title “How to Raise a Perfect Child ...” elaborates:

“I'm overwhelmed with parenting advice,” says Alice Kelly of Newton. “I read all about how I'm supposed to be providing my children with enriching play experiences. I'm supposed to do lots of physical activity with them so I can instill in them a physical fitness habit so they'll grow up to be healthy, fit adults. And I'm supposed to do all kinds of intellectual play so they'll grow up smart. Also, there are all kinds of play, and I'm supposed to do each — clay for finger dexterity, word games for reading success, large-motor play, small-motor play. I feel like I could devote my life to figuring out what to play with my kids.” ...  {383} 

Elizabeth Ward, a Stoneham dietician, has been puzzling over why parents are so “willing to be short-order cooks, preparing two or three meals at a time” in order to please the kids.... [One reason] is a belief that forcing a kid to choose between eating what's presented or skipping a meal will lead to eating disorders — a thought that probably never occurred to parents in earlier decades.³⁰

The humorist Dave Barry comments on the experts’ advice to parents of adolescents:

In addition to watching for warning signs, you must “keep the lines of communication open” between yourself and your child. Make a point of taking an interest in the things your child is interested in so that you can develop a rapport, as we see in this dialogue:

father: What's that music you're listening to, son? son: It's a band called “Limp Bizkit,” Dad. father: They suck.

... You should strive for this kind of closeness in your relationship with your child. And remember: If worse comes to worst, there is no parenting tool more powerful than a good hug. If you sense that your child is getting into trouble, you must give that child a great big fat hug in a public place with other young people around, while saying, in a loud, piercing voice, “You are MY LITTLE BABY and I love you NO MATTER WHAT!” That will embarrass your child so much that he or she may immediately run off and join a strict religious order whose entire diet consists of gravel. If one hug doesn't work, threaten to give your child another.³¹

Backlash aside, is it possible that the experts’ advice might be sound? Perhaps the parent trap is the mixed blessing of scientists’ knowing more and more about the effects of parenting. Parents can be forgiven for carving out some time for themselves, but if the experts are right they must realize that every such decision is a compromise.

So what do we really know about the long-term effects of parenting? Natural variation among parents, the raw material of behavioral genetics, offers one way of finding out. In any large sample of families, parents vary in how well they adhere to the ideals of parenting (if some didn't stray from the ideal, there would be no point in offering advice). Some mothers stay at home, others are workaholics. Some parents lose their tempers, others are infinitely patient. Some are garrulous, others taciturn; some unreserved in their affection, others more guarded. (As one academic said to me after pulling out a picture of her toddler, “We virtually adore her.”) Some homes are filled with books, others with blaring  {384}  TV sets; some couples are lovey-dovey, others fight like Maggie and Jiggs. Some mothers are like June Cleaver, others are depressed or histrionic or disorganized. According to the conventional wisdom, these differences should make a difference. At a bare minimum, two children growing up in one of these homes — with the same mother, father, books, TVs, and everything else — should turn out more similar, on average, than two children growing up in different homes. Seeing whether they do is a remarkably direct and powerful test. It does not depend on any hypothesis about what parents have to do to change their children or how their children will respond. It does not depend on how well we measure the home environments. If anything that parents do affects their children in any systematic way, then children growing up with the same parents will turn out more similar than children growing up with different parents.

But they don't. Remember the discoveries behind the Second Law. Siblings reared together end up no more similar than siblings separated at birth. Adopted siblings are no more similar than strangers. And the similarities between siblings can be completely accounted for by their shared genes. All those differences among parents and homes have no predictable long-term effects on the personalities of their children. Not to put too fine a point on it, but much of the advice from the parenting experts is flapdoodle.

But surely the advice is grounded in research on children's development? Yes, from the many useless studies that show a correlation between the behavior of parents and the behavior of their biological children and conclude that the parenting shaped the child, as if there were no such thing as heredity. And in fact the studies are even worse than that. Even if there were no such thing as heredity, a correlation between parents and children would not imply that parenting practices shape children. It could imply that children shape parenting practices.³² As any parent of more than one child knows, children are not indistinguishable lumps of raw material waiting to be shaped. They are little people, born with personalities. And people react to the personalities of other people, even if one is a parent and the other a child. The parents of an affectionate child may return that affection and thereby act differently from the parents of a child who squirms and wipes off his parents’ kisses. The parents of a quiet, spacey child might feel they are talking to a wall and jabber at him less. The parents of a docile child can get away with setting firm but reasonable limits; the parents of a hellion might find themselves at their wits’ end and either lay down the law or give up. In other words, correlation does not imply causation. A correlation between parents and children does not mean that parents affect children; it could mean that children affect parents, that genes affect both parents and children, or both.

It gets worse. In many studies, the same parties (in some studies the parents, in others the children) supply the data on both the parents’ behavior and the child's. Parents tell the experimenter how they treat their children and  {385}  what their children are like, or adolescents tell the experimenter what they are like and how their parents treat them. Those studies — suspiciously — show much stronger correlations than ones in which a third party assesses the parents and the child.³³ The problem is not just that people tend to look at themselves and at their families through the same rose-colored or jaundiced lenses, but also that the relationship between parents and adolescents is a two-way street. Harris sums up the problems when commenting on a widely publicized 1997 study. The authors claimed, solely on the basis of teenagers’ responses to a questionnaire about themselves and their families, that “parent-family connectedness” — close bonds, high expectations, lots of affection — is “protective” against adolescent ills such as drugs, cigarettes, and unsafe sex. Harris notes:

A happy person tends to check off upbeat answers to all the questions: Yes, my parents are good to me; yes, I'm doing fine. A person who cares about presenting a socially acceptable face to the world checks off socially acceptable responses: Yes, my parents are good to me; no, I haven't been in any fights or smoked anything illegal. A person who is angry or depressed checks off angry or depressed responses: My parents are jerks and I flunked the algebra test and to hell with your questionnaire....

... Perhaps what misled those eighteen federal agencies into thinking they were getting their 25 million dollars worth was the positive way the researchers phrased their findings: good relationships with parents exert a protective effect. Expressed in a different (but equally accurate) way, the results sound less interesting: adolescents who don't get along well with their parents are more likely to use drugs or engage in risky sex. The results sound still less interesting expressed this way: adolescents who use drugs or engage in risky sex don't get along well with their parents.³⁴

Yet another problem crops up when researchers direct all their questions to the parents rather than to the offspring. People behave differently in different settings. That includes children, who tend to behave differently inside and outside the home. So even if parents’ behavior does affect how their children behave with them, it may not affect how their children behave with other people. When parents describe their children's behavior, they describe the behavior they see in the home. To show that parents shape their children, then, a study would have to control for genes (by testing twins or adoptees), distinguish between parents affecting children and children affecting parents, measure the parents and the children independently, look at how children behave outside the home rather than inside, and test older children and young adults to see whether any effects are transient or permanent. No study that has claimed to show effects of parenting has met these standards.³⁵

If behavioral genetic studies show no lasting effects of the home, and  {386}  studies of parenting practices are uninformative, what about studies that compare radically different childhood milieus? The results, again, are bracing. Decades of studies have shown that, all things being equal, children turn out pretty much the same way whether their mothers work or stay at home, whether they are placed in daycare or not, whether they have siblings or are only children, whether their parents have a conventional or an open marriage, whether they grow up in an Ozzie-and-Harriet home or a hippie commune, whether their conceptions were planned, were accidental, or took place in a test tube, and whether they have two parents of the same sex or one of each.³⁶

Even growing up without a father in the house, which does correlate with troubles such as dropping out of school, remaining idle, and having babies while a teenager, may not cause the troubles directly.³⁷ Children with experiences that should make up for the missing father, such as having a stepfather, a live-in grandmother, or frequent contact with the birth father, are no better off. The number of years that the father was in the house before leaving makes no difference. And children whose fathers died do not have the poor outcomes of children whose fathers walked out or were never there. The absence of a father may not be a cause of adolescent problems but a correlate of the true causes, which may include poverty, neighborhoods with lots of unattached men (who live in de facto polygyny and hence compete violently for status), frequent moves (which force children to start from the bottom of the pecking order in new peer groups), and genes that make both fathers and children more impulsive and quarrelsome.

The 1990s was the Decade of the Brain and the decade in which parents were told they were in charge of their babies’ brains. The first three years of life was described as a critical window of opportunity in which the child's brain had to be constantly stimulated to keep it growing properly. Parents of late-talking children were blamed for not blanketing them in enough verbiage; the ills of the inner city were blamed on children's having to stare at empty walls. Bill and Hillary Clinton convened a conference at the White House to learn about the research, at which Mrs. Clinton said that the experiences of the first three years “can determine whether children will grow up to be peaceful or violent citizens, focused or undisciplined workers, attentive or detached parents themselves.”³⁸ The governors of Georgia and Missouri asked their legislators for millions of dollars to issue every new mother with a Mozart CD. (They had confused experiments on infant brain development with experiments — since discredited — alleging that adults benefit from listening to a few minutes of Mozart.)³⁹ The pediatrician and childcare guru T. Berry Brazelton had the most hopeful suggestion of all: that nurturance during the first three years will protect children from the lure of tobacco when they become adolescents.⁴⁰

In his book The Myth of the First Three Years, the cognitive neuroscience expert Jon Bruer showed that there was no science behind these astonishing  {387}  claims.⁴¹ No psychologist has ever documented a critical period for cognitive or language development that ends at three. And though depriving an animal of stimulation (by sewing an eye shut or keeping it in a barren cage) may hurt its brain growth, there is no evidence that providing extra stimulation (beyond what the organism would encounter in its normal habitat) enhances its brain growth.

So nothing in the research on family environments contradicts the behavioral geneticists’ Second Law, which says that growing up in a particular family has little or no systematic effect on one's intellect and personality. And this leaves us with a maddening puzzle. No, it's not all in the genes; around half the variation in personality, intelligence, and behavior comes from something in the environment. But whatever that something is, it cannot be shared by two children growing up in the same home with the same parents. And that rules out all the obvious somethings. What is the elusive Mister Jones factor?

~

Refusing to give up on parents, some developmental psychologists have trained their sights on the only remaining possibility that gives parents a starring role. The impotence of the shared environment says only that what parents do to all their children is powerless to shape them. But obviously parents don't treat their children alike. Perhaps the individualized parenting that mothers and fathers adapt to each child does have the power to shape them. It is the interaction between parents and children that affects them, not a one-size-fits-all parenting philosophy.⁴²

At first this looks reasonable. But when you think it through, it does not restore a shaping role for parents, or for parenting advice, after all.⁴³

What would individualized parenting look like? Presumably parents would tailor their parenting to the needs and talents of each child. A headstrong child would elicit firmer discipline than a compliant one; a fearful child would elicit more protectiveness than a bold one. The problem, as we saw in an earlier section, is that the differences in parenting cannot be separated from the preexisting differences in the children. If the fearful child turns into a fearful adult, we don't know whether it was an effect of the overprotective parent or a continuation of the fearfulness the child was born with.

And surprisingly, if children do elicit systematic differences in parenting it would show up as an effect of the genes: it would go into the heritability term, not the unique-environment term. The reason is that heritability is a measure of correlation and cannot distinguish direct effects of the genes (proteins that help wire the brain or trigger hormones) from indirect effects that operate many links away. Earlier I mentioned that attractive people are more assertive, presumably because they get accustomed to other people's kissing up to them. That is a highly indirect effect of the genes and would make assertiveness heritable even if there were no genes for assertive brains, just genes for violet eyes  {388}  to die for. Similarly, if children with certain innate traits make their parents more patient, or encouraging, or strict, then parental patience, encouragement, and strictness would also count as “heritable.” Now, if such individualized parenting does affect the way children turn out, a critic could legitimately say that the direct effects of the genes had been overestimated, because some of them would really be indirect effects of the children's genes on traits of the children that affect their parents’ behavior, which in turn affects the children. (The hypothesis is baroque, and I will soon show why it is unlikely to be true, but let's assume it is true for argument's sake.) But at best, the effects of parenting would be fighting with other genetic effects (direct and indirect) for some portion of the 40 to 50 percent of the variation attributed to the genes. The 50 percent attributable to the unique environment would still be up for grabs.

Here is what would have to happen if the effects of the unique environment are to be explained by an interaction between parents and children (using the statistician's technical sense of the word “interaction,” which is the one relevant to our puzzle). A given practice would have to affect some children one way, and other children another way, and the two effects would have to cancel out. For example, sparing the rod would have to spoil some children (making them more violent) and teach others that violence is not a solution (making them less violent). Displays of affection would have to make some children more affectionate (because they identify with their parents) and others less affectionate (because they react against their parents). The reason the effects have to go in opposite directions is that if a parenting practice had a consistent effect, on average, across all children, it would turn up as an effect of the shared environment. Adopted siblings would be similar, sibs growing up together would be more similar than sibs growing up apart — neither of which happens. And if it was applied successfully to some kinds of children and was avoided, or was ineffective, with other kinds, that would turn up as an effect of the genes.

The problems with the parent-child interaction idea now become obvious. It is implausible that any parenting process would have such radically different effects on different children that the sum of the effects (the shared environment) would add up to zero. If hugging merely makes some children more confident and has no effect on others, then the huggers should still have more confident children on average (some becoming more confident, others showing no change) than the cold fish. But, holding genes constant, they don't. (To put it in technical terms familiar to psychologists: it is rare to find a perfect crossover interaction, that is, an interaction with no main effects.) This is also, by the way, one of the reasons that heritability itself almost certainly cannot be reduced to child-specific parenting. Unless parents’ behavior is completely determined by their child's inborn traits, some parents will behave somewhat differently from others across the board, and that would turn up in effects of the shared environment — which in fact are negligible.  {389} 

But let's say that these parent-child interactions (in the technical sense) really do exist, and really do shape the child. The moral would be that across-the-board parenting advice is useless. Anything that parents do to make some children better will make an equal number of children worse.

In any case, the parent-child interaction theory can be tested directly. Psychologists can measure how parents treat the different children within a family, and see if the treatments correlate with how the children turn out, holding genes constant. The answer is that in almost every case they don't. Virtually all the differences in parenting within a family can be explained as reactions to genetic differences that the children were born with. And parental behavior that does differ among children for nongenetic reasons, such as marital conflict triggered by some siblings but not by others, or more parenting effort directed at one sibling than at another, has no effect.⁴⁴ The leader of a recent heroic study, who had hoped to prove that differences in parenting do affect how children turn out, confessed that he was “shocked” by his own results.⁴⁵

There is another way that a home environment could differ among children in the same family for reasons having nothing to do with their genes: birth order. A firstborn usually has several years of undivided parental attention with no annoying siblings around. Laterborns have to compete with their siblings for parental attention and other family resources, and have to figure out how to hold their own against stronger and more entrenched competitors.

In Born to Rebel, Sulloway predicted that firstborns should parlay their advantages into a more assertive personality.⁴⁶ And because they identify with their parents, and by extension with the status quo, they should grow up to be more conservative and conscientious. Laterborns, in contrast, should be more conciliatory and open to new ideas and experiences. Though family therapists and laypeople have had these impressions for a long time, Sulloway tried to explain them in terms of Trivers's theory of parent-offspring conflict and its corollary, sibling rivalry. He found some support for these ideas in a meta-analysis (a quantitative literature review) of studies of birth order and personality.⁴⁷

Sulloway's theory, however, also requires that children use the same strategies outside the home — with their peers and colleagues — as the ones that served them well inside the home. That does not follow from Trivers's theory; indeed, it contradicts the larger theory from evolutionary psychology that relationships with blood relatives should be very different from relationships with nonrelatives. Tactics that work on a sibling or parent may not work so well on a colleague or stranger. And in fact subsequent analyses have shown that any effects of birth order on personality turn up in the studies that ask siblings or parents to rate one another, or to rate themselves with respect to a sibling, which of course can assess only their family relationships. When personality is measured by neutral parties outside the family, birth-order  {390}  effects diminish or disappear.⁴⁸ Any differences in the parenting of firstborns and laterborns — novice or experienced parents, divided or undivided attention, pressure to carry on the family legacy or indulgent babying — seem to have little or no effect on personality outside the home.

Similarities within a home don't shape children; differences within a home don't shape children. Perhaps, Harris says, we should look outside the home.

~

If you grew up in a different part of the world from where your parents grew up, consider this question: Do you sound like your parents, or like the people you grew up with? What about the way you dress, or the music you listen to, or the way you spend your free time? Consider the same question about your children if they grew up in a different part of the world from where you grew up — or for that matter, even if they didn't. In almost every case, people model themselves after their peers, not their parents.

This is Harris's explanation of the elusive environmental shaper of personality, which she calls Group Socialization theory. It's not all in the genes, but what isn't in the genes isn't from the parents either. Socialization — acquiring the norms and skills necessary to function in society — takes place in the peer group. Children have cultures, too, which absorb parts of the adult culture and also develop values and norms of their own. Children do not spend their waking hours trying to become better and better approximations of adults. They strive to be better and better children, ones that function well in their own society. It is in this crucible that our personalities are formed.

Multidecade, child-obsessed parenting, Harris points out, is an evolutionarily recent practice. In foraging societies, mothers carry their children on their hips or backs and nurse them on demand until the next child arrives two to four years later.⁴⁹ The child is then dumped into a play group with his older siblings and cousins, switching from being the beneficiary of almost all of the mother's attention to almost none of it. Children sink or swim in the milieu of other children.

Children are not just attracted to the norms of their peers; to some degree they are immune to the expectations of their parents. The theory of parent-offspring conflict predicts that parents do not always socialize a child in the child's best interests. So even if children acquiesce to their parents’ rewards, punishments, examples, and naggings for the time being — because they are smaller and have no choice — they should not, according to the theory, allow their personalities to be shaped by these tactics. Children must learn what it takes to gain status among their peers, because status at one age gives them a leg up in the struggle for status at the next, including the young-adult stages in which they first compete for the attention of the opposite sex.⁵⁰

What first attracted me to Harris's theory was its ability to explain a  {391}  half-dozen puzzling facts in the part of psychology I work in the most, language.⁵¹ Psycholinguists argue a lot about heredity and environment, but they all equate “the environment” with “parents.” But many phenomena of children's language development just don't fit that equation. In traditional cultures, mothers don't say much to their children until they are old enough to hold up their end of the conversation; the children pick up language from other children. People's accents almost always resemble the accents of their childhood peers, not the accents of their parents. Children of immigrants acquire the language of their adopted homeland perfectly, without a foreign accent, as long as they have access to native speaking peers. They then try to force their parents to switch to the new language, and if they succeed, they may forget the mother tongue entirely. The same is true of hearing children of deaf parents, who learn the spoken language of their community without a hitch. Children thrown together without a common language from the grownups will quickly invent \ one; that is how creole languages, and the signed languages of the deaf, came into being. Now, a particular language like English or Japanese (as opposed to the instinct for language in general) is an example of learned social behavior par excellence. If children cultivate a fine ear for the nuances of their peers’ speech, and if they cast their lot with their peers’ language over their parents', it suggests that their social antennae are aimed peerward.

Children of immigrants soak up not just the language of their adopted homeland but the culture as well. For their entire lives, my shtetl-born grandparents were strangers in a strange land. Cars, banks, doctors, schools, and the urban concept of time left them baffled, and if the term “dysfunctional family” had been around in the 1930s and 1940s it would surely have applied to them. Nevertheless, my father, growing up in a community of immigrants who had arrived in different decades, gravitated to other children and families who knew the ropes, and ended up happy and successful. Such stories are common in chronicles of the immigrant experience.⁵² So why do we insist that children's parents are the key to how they turn out?

Studies also confirm what every parent knows but what no one bothers to reconcile with theories of child development: that whether adolescents smoke, get into scrapes with the law, or commit serious crimes depends far more on what their peers do than on what their parents do.⁵³ Harris comments on a popular theory that children become delinquents to achieve “mature status,” that is, adult power and privilege: “If teenagers wanted to be like adults they wouldn't be shoplifting nailpolish from drugstores or hanging off overpasses to spray I love you lisa on the arch. If they really aspired to ‘mature status’ they would be doing boring adult things like sorting the laundry and figuring out their income taxes.”⁵⁴

Even the rare finding of an effect of the shared environment, and the equally elusive finding of an interaction between genes and the environment,  {392}  emerge only when we substitute peers for parents in the “environment” part of the equation. Children who grow up in the same home tend to resemble each other in their vulnerability to delinquency, regardless of how closely related they are. But that similarity only holds if they are close in age and spend time together outside the home — which suggests they belong to the same peer group.⁵⁵ And in a large Danish adoption study, the biological children of convicts were somewhat more likely to get into trouble than the biological children of law-abiding citizens, which suggests a small across-the-board effect of the genes. But the susceptibility to crime was multiplied if they were adopted by parents who were criminals themselves and who lived in a large city, which suggests that the genetically at-risk children grew up in a high-crime neighborhood.⁵⁶

It's not that parents “don't matter.” In many ways parents matter a great deal. For most of human existence, the most important thing parents did for their children was keep them alive. Parents can certainly harm their children by abusing or neglecting them. Children appear to need some kind of nurturing figure in their early years, though it needn't be a parent, and possibly not even an adult: young orphans and refugees often turn out relatively well if they had the comfort of other children, even if they had no parents or other adults around them.⁵⁷ (This does not mean that the children were happy, but contrary to popular belief, unhappy children do not necessarily turn into dysfunctional adults.) Parents select an environment for their children and thereby select a peer group. They provide their children with skills and knowledge, such as reading and playing a musical instrument. And they certainly may affect their children's behavior in the home, just as any powerful people can affect behavior within their fiefdom. But parents’ behavior does not seem to shape their children's intelligence or personality over the long term. Upon hearing this, many people ask, “So you're saying it doesn't matter how I treat my child?” It is a revealing question, and I will consider it at the end of the chapter. But first, the public reaction to Harris's theory, and my own assessment.

~

The Nurture Assumption was, by any standard, a major contribution to modern intellectual life. Though the main idea is at first counterintuitive, the book has the ring of truth, with real children running through it, not compliant little theoretical constructs that no one ever meets in real life. Harris backed up her hypothesis with voluminous data from many fields, interpreted with a keen analytical eye, and with a rarity in the social sciences: proposals for new empirical tests that might falsify it. The book also contains original policy suggestions on tough problems for which we sorely need new ideas, such as failing schools, teenage smoking, and juvenile delinquency. Even if major parts turn out to be wrong, the book forces one to think about childhood, and therefore what makes us what we are, in a fresh and insightful way.  {393} 

So what was the public reaction? The first popular presentation of the theory was in a few pages of my book How the Mind Works, in which I presented the research behind the three laws of behavioral genetics and Harris's 1995 paper explaining them. Many reviews singled out those pages for discussion, such as the following analysis by Margaret Wertheim:

Never in my fifteen years as a science writer have I seen the subject I love so dearly abused so greatly.... What is so appalling here — quite aside from the laughable grasp of family dynamics — is the misrepresentation of science. Science can never prove what percentage of personality is caused by upbringing.... By suggesting that it can and does, he invites us to see scientists as at best naïve and at worst fascistic. It is precisely this kind of claim that, in my opinion, is giving science a bad name and is helping to fuel a significant backlash against it.⁵⁸

Wertheim, of course, confused “the percentage of personality that is caused by upbringing,” which is indeed meaningless, with the percentage of variance in personality that is caused by variation in upbringing, which behavioral geneticists study all the time. And scientists can show, and have shown, that siblings are as similar when reared apart as when reared together and that adoptive siblings are not similar at all, which means that the conventional wisdom about “family dynamics” is simply wrong.

Wertheim is sympathetic to radical science and social constructionism. Her reaction is a sign of how behavioral genetics — and Harris's theory, which aims to explain its findings — touches a nerve on the political left, with its traditional emphasis on the malleability of children. The psychologist Oliver James wrote, “Harris's book can be safely ignored as yet another application of Friedmanite economics to the social realm” (an allusion to the economist who, according to James, stands for the idea that individuals should assume responsibility for their own lives). He suggested that Harris was downplaying research on parenting because it “would indirectly pose a real challenge to the theories of advanced consumer capitalism: if what parents do is critical, it calls into question the low priority given to it, compared with the pursuit of profit.”⁵⁹ Actually, this fanciful diagnosis has it backwards. The most vehement propagandists for the importance of parents are the beer and tobacco companies, which sponsor ad campaigns such as “Family Talk About Drinking” and “Parents Should Talk to Kids About Not Smoking.” (A sample ad: “Daughter speaks to the camera, as if it were her mother, reassuring her that her words about not smoking are with her, even when her mother is not with her.”)⁶⁰ By putting the onus on parents to keep teens sober and smoke-free, these advanced consumer capitalists can divert attention from their own massive influence on adolescent peer culture.  {394} 

In any case, Harris drew even more venom from the political right. The columnist John Leo called her theory “stupid,” ridiculed her lack of a Ph.D. and a university affiliation, and compared her to deniers of the Holocaust. He ended his column, “It's not time to celebrate a foolish book that justifies self-absorption and makes non-parenting a respectable, mainstream activity.”⁶¹

Why do conservatives hate the theory too? An axiom of the contemporary American right is that the traditional family is under assault from feminists, a licentious popular culture, and left-wing social analysts. The root of social ills, conservatives believe, is the failure of parents to teach their children discipline and values, a failure that can be traced to working mothers, absent fathers, easy divorce, and a welfare system that rewards young women for having babies out of wedlock. When the unmarried sitcom character Murphy Brown had a child, Vice President Dan Quayle denounced her for setting a bad example for American women (a headline of the time: “Murphy Has a Baby; Quayle Has a Cow”). Harris's review showing that Murphy's baby would probably have turned out fine was not welcome. (To be fair, concerns about fatherlessness may not be ill founded, but the problem may be the absence of fathers from all the families in a neighborhood rather than the absence of a father from an individual family. These fatherless children lack access to other families in which an adult male is present, and worse, they have access to packs of single men, whose values trickle down to their own peer groups.) Also, the Great Satan, Hillary Clinton, had written a book on childhood called It Takes a Village, based on the African saying “It takes a village to raise a child.” Conservatives despised it because they thought the whole idea was a pretext for social engineers to take childrearing out of the hands of parents and give it to the government. But Harris quoted the saying too, and her theory implies there is some truth to it.

And then there were the experts. Brazelton called the thesis “absurd.”⁶² Jerome Kagan, one of the deans of scholarly research on children, said, “I'm embarrassed for psychology.”⁶³ Another developmental psychologist, Frank Farley, told Newsweek:

She's all wrong. She's taking an extreme position based on a limited set of data. Her thesis is absurd on its face, but consider what might happen if parents believe this stuff! Will it free some to mistreat their kids, since “it doesn't matter”? Will it tell parents who are tired after a long day that they needn't bother even paying any attention to their kid since “it doesn't matter”?⁶⁴

Kagan and other developmentalists told reporters about the “many, many good studies that show parents can affect how children turn out.”

What were these “many, many good studies”? In the Boston Globe, Kagan  {395}  laid out what he called the “ample evidence.”⁶⁵ He mentioned the usual see-no-genetics studies showing that smart parents have smart children, verbal parents have verbal children, and so on. He observed that “a 6-year-old raised in New England will be very different from a 6-year-old raised in Malaysia, Uganda, or the southern tip of Argentina. The reason is that they experience different child-rearing practices by their parents.” But of course a child growing up in Malaysia has both Malaysian parents and Malaysian peers. If Kagan had considered what would happen to a six-year-old child of Malaysian parents who grew up in a New England town, he might have thought twice before using the example to illustrate the power of parenting. The other “evidence” was that when authors write their memoirs, they credit their parents, never their childhood friends, with making them what they are. An irony in these feeble arguments is that Kagan himself, in the course of a distinguished career, often chided his fellow psychologists for overlooking genetics and for accepting their culture's folk theories on childhood instead of holding them up to scientific scrutiny. I can only imagine that on this occasion he felt compelled to defenc his field against an expose by a grandmother from New Jersey. In any case, the other “good studies” produced by defensive psychologists were no more informative.⁶⁶

~

So has Harris solved the mystery of the Third Law, the unique environment that comes neither from the genes nor from the family? Not exactly. I am convinced that children are socialized — that they acquire the values and skills of the culture — in their peer groups, not their families. But I am not convinced, at least not yet, that peer groups explain how children develop their personalities: why they turn out shy or bold, anxious or confident, open-minded or old-school. Socialization and the development of personality are not the same thing, and peers may explain the first without necessarily explaining the second.

One way that peers could explain personality is that children in the same family may join different peer groups — the jocks, the brains, the preppies, the punks, the Goths — and assimilate their values. But then how do children get sorted into peer groups? If it is by their inborn traits — smart kids join the brains, aggressive kids join the punks, and so on — then effects of the peer group would show up as indirect effects of the genes, not as effects of the unique environment. If it is their parents’ choice of neighborhoods, it would turn up as effects of the shared environment, because siblings growing up together share a neighborhood as well as a set of parents. In some cases, as with delinquency and smoking, the missing variance might be explained as an interaction between genes and peers: violence-prone adolescents become violent only in dangerous neighborhoods, addiction-prone children become smokers only in the company of peers who think smoking is cool. But those  {396}  interactions are unlikely to explain most of the differences among children. Let's return to our touchstone: identical twins growing up together. They share their genes, they share their family environments, and they share their peer groups, at least on average. But the correlations between them are only around 50 percent. Ergo, neither genes nor families nor peer groups can explain what makes them different.

Harris is forthcoming about this limitation, and suggests that children differentiate themselves within a peer group, not by their choice of a peer group. Within each group, some become leaders, others foot soldiers, still others jesters, loose cannons, punching bags, or peacemakers, depending on what niche is available, how suited a child is to filling it, and chance. Once a child acquires a role, it is hard to shake it off, both because other children force the child to stay in the niche and because the child specializes in the skills necessary to prosper in it. This part of the theory, Harris notes, is untested, and difficult to test, because the crucial first step — which child fills which niche in which group — is so capricious.

The filling of niches in peer groups, then, is largely a matter of chance. But once we allow Lady Luck into the picture, she can act at other stages in life. When reminiscing on how we got to where we are, we all can think of forks in the road where we could have gone on very different life paths. If I hadn't gone to that party, I wouldn't have met my spouse. If I hadn't picked up that brochure, I wouldn't have known about the field that would become my life's calling. If I hadn't answered the phone, if I hadn't missed that flight, if only I had caught that ball. Life is a pinball game in which we bounce and graze through a gantlet of chutes and bumpers. Perhaps our history of collisions and near misses explains what made us what we are. One twin was once beaten up by a bully, the other was home sick that day. One inhaled a virus, the other didn't. One twin got the top bunk bed, the other got the bottom bunk bed.

We still don't know whether these unique experiences leave their fingerprints on our intellects and personalities. But an even earlier pinball game certainly could do so, the one that wires up our brain in the womb and early childhood. As I have mentioned, the human genome cannot possibly specify every last connection among neurons. But the “environment,” in the sense of information encoded by the sense organs, isn't the only other option. Chance is another. One twin lies one way in the womb and stakes out her share of the placenta, the other has to squeeze around her. A cosmic ray mutates a stretch of DNA, a neurotransmitter zigs instead of zags, the growth cone of an axon goes left instead of right, and one identical twin's brain might gel into a slightly different configuration from the other's.⁶⁷

We know this happens in the development of other organisms. Even genetically homogeneous strains of flies, mice, and worms, raised in monotonously controlled laboratories, can differ from one another. A fruit fly may  {397}  have more or fewer bristles under one wing than its bottlemates. One mouse may have three times as many oocytes (cells destined to become eggs) as her genetically identical sister reared in the same lab. One roundworm may live three times as long as its virtual clone in the next dish. The biologist Steven Austad commented on the roundworms’ lifespans: “Astonishingly, the degree of variability they exhibit in longevity is not much less than that of a genetically mixed population of humans, who eat a variety of diets, attend to or abuse their health, and are subject to all the vagaries of circumstance — car crashes, tainted beef, enraged postal workers — of modern industrialized life.”⁶⁸ And a roundworm is composed of only 959 cells! A human brain, with its hundred billion neurons, has even more opportunities to be buffeted by the outcomes of molecular coin flips.

If chance in development is to explain the less-than-perfect similarity of identical twins, it says something interesting about development in general. One can imagine a developmental process in which millions of small chance events cancel one another out, leaving no difference in the end product. One can imagine a different process in which a chance event could derail development entirely, or send it on a chaotic developmental path resulting in a freak or a monster. Neither of these happens to identical twins. They are distinct enough that our crude instruments can pick up the differences, yet both are healthy instances of that staggeringly improbable, exquisitely engineered system we call a human being. The development of organisms must use complex feedback loops rather than prespecified blueprints. Random events can divert the trajectory of growth, but the trajectories are confined within an envelope of functioning designs for the species. Biologists refer to such developmental dynamics as robustness, buffering, or canalization.⁶⁹

If the nongenetic component of personality is the outcome of neurodevelopmental roulette, it would present us with two surprises. One is that just as the “genetic” term in the behavioral geneticist's equation is not necessarily genetic, the “environmental” term is not necessarily environmental. If the unexplained variance is a product of chance events in brain assembly, yet another chunk of our personalities would be “biologically determined” (though not genetic) and beyond the scope of the best-laid plans of parents and society.

The other surprise is that we may have to make room for a pre-scientific explanatory concept in our view of human nature — not free will, as many people have suggested to me, but fate. It is not free will because among the traits that may differ between identical twins reared together are ones that are stubbornly involuntary. No one chooses to become schizophrenic, homosexual, musically gifted, or, for that matter, anxious or self-confident or open to experience. But the old idea of fate — in the sense of uncontrollable fortune, not strict predestination — can be reconciled with modern biology once we remember the many openings for chance to operate in development. Harris,  {398}  noting how recent and parochial is the belief that we can shape our children, quotes a woman living in a remote village of India in the 1950s. When asked what kind of man she hoped her child would grow into, she shrugged and replied, “It is in his fate, no matter what I want.”⁷⁰

~

Not everyone is so accepting of fate, or of the other forces beyond a parent's control, like genes and peers. “I hope to God this isn't true,” one mother said to the Chicago Tribune. “The thought that all this love that I'm pouring into him counts for nothing is too terrible to contemplate.”⁷¹ As with other discoveries about human nature, people hope to God it isn't true. But the truth doesn't care about our hopes, and sometimes it can force us to revisit those hopes in a liberating way.

Yes, it is disappointing that there is no algorithm for growing a happy and successful child. But would we really want to specify the traits of our children in advance, and never be delighted by the unpredictable gifts and quirks that every child brings into the world? People are appalled by human cloning and its dubious promise that parents can design their children by genetic engineering. But how different is that from the fantasy that parents can design their children by how they bring them up? Realistic parents would be less anxious parents. They could enjoy their time with their children rather than constantly trying to stimulate them, socialize them, and improve their characters. They could read stories to their children for the pleasure of it, not because it's good for their neurons.

Many critics accuse Harris of trying to absolve parents of responsibility for their children's lives: if the kids turn out badly, parents can say it's not their fault. But by the same token she is assigning adults responsibility for their own lives: if your life is not going well, stop moaning that it's all your parents’ fault. She is rescuing mothers from fatuous theories that blame them for every misfortune that befalls their children, and from the censorious know-it-alls who make them feel like ogres if they slip out of the house to work or skip a reading of Goodnight Moon. And the theory assigns us all a collective responsibility for the health of the neighborhoods and culture in which peer groups are embedded.

Finally: “So you're saying it doesn't matter how I treat my children?” What a question! Yes, of course it matters. Harris reminds her readers of the reasons.

First, parents wield enormous power over their children, and their actions can make a big difference to their happiness. Childrearing is above all an ethical responsibility. It is not OK for parents to beat, humiliate, deprive, or neglect their children, because those are awful things for a big strong person to do to a small helpless one. As Harris writes, “We may not hold their tomorrows in our hands but we surely hold their todays, and we have the power to make their todays very miserable.”⁷².  {399} 

Second, a parent and a child have a human relationship. No one ever asks, “So you're saying it doesn't matter how I treat my husband or wife?” even though no one but a newlywed believes that one can change the personality of one's spouse. Husbands and wives are nice to each other (or should be) not to pound the other's personality into a desired shape but to build a deep and satisfying relationship. Imagine being told that one cannot revamp the personality of a husband or wife and replying, “The thought that all this love I'm pouring into him (or her) counts for nothing is too terrible to contemplate.” So it is with parents and children: one person's behavior toward another has consequences for the quality of the relationship between them. Over the course of a lifetime the balance of power shifts, and children, complete with memories of how they were treated, have a growing say in their dealings with their parents. As Harris puts it, “If you don't think the moral imperative is a good enough reason to be nice to your kid, try this one: Be nice to your kid when he's young so that he will be nice to you when you're old.”⁷³ There are well-functioning adults who still shake with rage when recounting the cruelties their parents inflicted on them as children. There are others who moisten up in private moments when recalling a kindness or sacrifice made for their happiness, perhaps one that the mother or father has long forgotten. If for no other reason, parents should treat their children well to allow them to grow up with such memories.

I have found that when people hear these explanations they lower their eyes and say, somewhat embarrassedly, “Yes. I knew that.” The fact that people can forget these simple truths when intellectualizing about children shows how far modern doctrines have taken us. They make it easy to think of children as lumps of putty to be shaped instead of partners in a human relationship. Even the theory that children adapt to their peer group becomes less surprising when we think of them as human beings like ourselves. “Peer group” is a patronizing term we use in connection with children for what we call “friends and colleagues and associates” when we talk about ourselves. We groan when children obsess over wearing the right kind of cargo pants, but we would be just as mortified if a very large person forced us to wear pink overalls to a corporate board meeting or a polyester disco suit to an academic conference. “Being socialized by a peer group” is another way of saying “living successfully within a society,” which for a social organism means “living.” It is children, above all, who are alleged to be blank slates, and that can make us forget they are people.

Chapter 20

The Arts

The arts are in trouble. I didn't say it; they did: the critics, scholars, and (as we now say) content providers who make their living in the arts and humanities. According to the theater director and critic Robert Brustein:

The possibility of sustaining high culture in our time is becoming increasingly problematical. Serious book stores are losing their franchise; small publishing houses are closing shop; little magazines are going out of business; nonprofit theaters are surviving primarily by commercializing their repertory; symphony orchestras are diluting their programs; public television is increasing its dependence on reruns of British sitcoms; classical radio stations are dwindling; museums are resorting to blockbuster shows; dance is dying.¹

In recent years the higher-brow magazines and presses have been filled with similar laments. Here is a sample of titles:

The Death of Literature² • The Decline and Fall of Literature³ • The Decline of High Culture⁴ • Have the Humanities Disciplines Collapsed?⁵ • The Humanities — At Twilight?⁶ • Humanities in the Age of Money⁷ • The Humanities’ Plight⁸ • Literature: An Embattled Profession⁹ • Literature Lost¹⁰ • Music's Dying Fall¹¹ • The Rise and Fall of English¹² • What's Happened to the Humanities?¹³ • Who Killed Culture?¹⁴

If we are to believe the pessimists, the decline has been going on for some time. In 1948 T. S. Eliot wrote, “We can assert with some confidence that our own period is one of decline; that the standards of culture are lower than they were fifty years ago; and that the evidences of this decline are visible in every department of human activity.”¹⁵  {401} 

Some of the vital signs of the arts and humanities are indeed poor. In 1997 the U.S. House of Representatives voted to kill the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Senate was able to save it only by cutting its budget nearly in half. Universities have disinvested in the humanities: since 1960, the proportion of faculty in liberal arts has fallen by half, salaries and working conditions have stagnated, and more and more teaching is done by graduate students and part-time faculty.¹⁶ New Ph.D.s are often unemployed or resigned to a life of one-year appointments. In many liberal arts colleges, humanities departments have been downsized, merged, or eliminated altogether.

One cause of the decline in academia is competition from the efflorescence of science and engineering. Another may be a surfeit of Ph.D.s pumped out by graduate programs that failed to practice academic birth control. But the problem is as much a reduction in the demand by students as an increase in the supply of professors. While the total number of bachelor's degrees rose by almost 40 percent between 1970 and 1994, the number of degrees in English declined by 40 percent. It may get worse: only 9 percent of high school students today indicate an interest in majoring in the humanities.¹⁷ One university was so desperate to restore enrollment in its College of Arts and Sciences that it hired an advertising firm to come up with a “Think for a Living” campaign. Here are some of the slogans they came up with:

Do what you want when you graduate or wait 20 years for your mid-life crisis.

Insurance for when the robots take over all the boring jobs.

Okay then. Follow your dreams in your next life.

Yeah, like your parents are so happy.

Careerism may explain the disenchantment some students feel with liberal arts, but not all of it. The economy is in better shape today than it was in periods in which the humanities were more popular, and many young people still do not shoot themselves from cannons into their careers but use their college years to enrich themselves in various ways. There is no good reason that the arts and humanities should not be able to compete for students’ attention during this interlude. A knowledge of culture, history, and ideas is still an asset in most professions, as it is in everyday life. But students stay away from the humanities anyway.

In this chapter I will diagnose the malaise of the arts and humanities and offer some suggestions for revitalizing them. They didn't ask me, but by their own accounts they need all the help they can get, and I believe that part of the answer lies within the theme of this book. I will begin by circumscribing the problem.  {402} 

~

As a matter of fact, the arts and humanities are not in trouble. According to recent assessments based on data from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Statistical Abstract of the United States, they have never been in better shape.¹⁸ In the past two decades, symphony orchestras, booksellers, libraries, and new independent films have all increased in number. Attendance is up, in some cases at record levels, at classical music concerts, live theater, opera performances, and art museums, as we see in blockbuster shows with long lines and scarce tickets. The number of books in print (including books of art, poetry, and drama) has exploded, as have book sales. Nor have people become passive consumers of art. The year 1997 broke records for the proportion of adults drawing, taking art photographs, buying art, and doing creative writing.

Advances in technology have made art more accessible than ever before. A couple of hours of minimum-wage income can buy any of tens of thousands of audiophile-quality musical recordings, including many versions of any classical work performed by the world's great orchestras. Video stores allow people in the boondocks to arrange cheap private screenings of the great classics of cinema. Instead of the three television networks with their sitcoms, variety shows, and soaps, most Americans can now choose from a menu of fifty to a hundred stations, including ones that specialize in history, science, politics, and the arts. Inexpensive video equipment and streaming video on the World Wide Web are allowing independent filmmaking to flourish. Virtually any book in print is available within days to anyone with a credit card and a modem. On the Web one can find the text of all the major novels, poems, plays, and works of philosophy and scholarship that have fallen out of copyright, as well as virtual tours of the world's great art museums. New intellectual e-zines and web sites have proliferated, and back issues are instantly available.

We are swimming in culture, drowning in it. So why all the lamentations about its plight, decline, fall, collapse, twilight, and death?

One response from the doomsayers is that the current frenzy of consumption involves past classics and current mediocrities but that few new works of quality are coming into the world. That is doubtful.¹⁹ As historians of the arts repeatedly tell us, all the supposed sins of contemporary culture — mass appeal, the profit motive, themes of sex and violence, and adaptations to popular formats (such as serialization in newspapers) — may be found in the great artists of past centuries. Even in recent decades, many artists were seen in their time as commercial hacks and only later attained artistic respectability. Examples include the Marx Brothers, Alfred Hitchcock, the Beatles, and, if we are to judge by recent museum shows and critical appreciations, even Norman Rockwell. There are dozens of excellent novelists from countries all over the world, and though most television and cinema is dreadful, the best can be very good  {403}  indeed: Carla on Cheers was wittier than Dorothy Parker, and the plot of Tootsie is cleverer than the plots of any of Shakespeare's cross-dressing comedies.

As for music, though it may be hard for anyone to compete against the best composers from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the past century has been anything but barren. Jazz, Broadway, country, blues, folk, rock, soul, samba, reggae, world music, and contemporary composition have blossomed. Each has produced gifted artists and has introduced new complexities of rhythm, instrumentation, vocal style, and studio production into our total musical experience. Then there are genres that are flourishing as never before, such as animation and industrial design, and still others that have only recently come into existence but have already achieved moments of high accomplishment, such as computer graphics and rock videos (for instance, Peter Gabriel's Sledgehammer).

In every era for thousands of years critics have bemoaned the decline of culture, and the economist Tyler Cowen suggests they are the victims of a cognitive illusion. The best works of art are more likely to appear in a past decade than in the present decade for the same reason that another line in the supermarket always moves faster than the one you are in: there are more of them. We get to enjoy the greatest hits winnowed from all those decades, listening to the Mozarts and forgetting the Salieris. Also, genres of art (opera, Impressionist painting, Broadway musicals, film noir) usually blossom and fade in a finite span of time. It's hard to recognize nascent art forms when they are on the rise, and by the time they are widely appreciated their best days are behind them. Cowen also notes, citing Hobbes, that putting down the present is a backhanded way of putting down one's rivals: “Competition of praise inclineth to a reverence of antiquity. For men contend with the living, not with the dead.”²⁰

But in three circumscribed areas the arts really do have something to be depressed about. One is the traditions of elite art that descended from prestigious European genres, such as the music performed by symphony orchestras, the art shown in major galleries and museums, and the ballet performed by major companies. Here there really may be a drought of compelling new material. For example, 90 percent of “classical music” was composed before 1900, and the most influential composers in the twentieth century were active before 1940.²¹

The second is the guild of critics and cultural gatekeepers, who have seen their influence dwindle. The 1939 comedy The Man Who Came to Dinner is about a literary critic who achieved such celebrity that we can believe that the burghers of a small Ohio town would coo and fawn over him. It is hard to think of a contemporary critic who could plausibly inspire such a character.

And the third, of course, is the groves of academe, where the foibles of the humanities departments have been fodder for satirical novels and the subject of endless fretting and analyzing.

After nineteen chapters, you can probably guess where I will seek a  {404}  diagnosis for these three ailing endeavors. The giveaway lies in a statement (attributed to Virginia Woolf) that can be found in countless English course outlines: “On or about December, 1910, human nature changed.” She was referring to the new philosophy of modernism that would dominate the elite arts and criticism for much of the twentieth century, and whose denial of human nature was carried over with a vengeance to postmodernism, which seized control in its later decades. The point of this chapter is that the elite arts, criticism, and scholarship are in trouble because the statement is wrong. Human nature did not change in 1910, or in any year thereafter.²²

~

Art is in our nature — in the blood and in the bone, as people used to say; in the brain and in the genes, as we might say today. In all societies people dance, sing, decorate surfaces, and tell and act out stories. Children begin to take part in these activities in their twos and threes, and the arts may even be reflected in the organization of the adult brain: neurological damage may leave a person able to hear and see but unable to appreciate music or visual beauty.²³ Paintings, jewelry, sculpture, and musical instruments go back at least 35,000 years in Europe, and probably far longer in other parts of the world where the archaeological record is scanty. The Australian aborigines have been painting on rocks for 50,000 years, and red ochre has been used as body makeup for at least twice that long.²⁴

Though the exact forms of art vary widely across cultures, the activities of making and appreciating art are recognizable everywhere. The philosopher Denis Dutton has identified seven universal signatures:²⁵

1. Expertise or virtuosity. Technical artistic skills are cultivated, recognized, and admired.

2. Nonutilitarian pleasure. People enjoy art for art's sake, and don't demand that it keep them warm or put food on the table.

3. Style. Artistic objects and performances satisfy rules of composition that place them in a recognizable style.

4. Criticism. People make a point of judging, appreciating, and interpreting works of art.

5. Imitation. With a few important exceptions like music and abstract painting, works of art simulate experiences of the world.

6. Special focus. Art is set aside from ordinary life and made a dramatic focus of experience.

7. Imagination. Artists and their audiences entertain hypothetical worlds in the theater of the imagination.

The psychological roots of these activities have become a topic of recent research and debate. Some researchers, such as the scholar Ellen Dissanayake,  {405}  believe that art is an evolutionary adaptation like the emotion of fear or the ability to see in depth.²⁶ Others, such as myself, believe that art (other than narrative) is a by-product of three other adaptations: the hunger for status, the aesthetic pleasure of experiencing adaptive objects and environments, and the ability to design artifacts to achieve desired ends.²⁷ On this view art is a pleasure technology, like drugs, erotica, or fine cuisine — a way to purify and concentrate pleasurable stimuli and deliver them to our senses. For the discussion in this chapter it does not matter which view is correct. Whether art is an adaptation or a by-product or a mixture of the two, it is deeply rooted in our mental faculties. Here are some of those roots.

Organisms get pleasure from things that promoted the fitness of their ancestors, such as the taste of food, the experience of sex, the presence of children, and the attainment of know-how. Some forms of visual pleasure in natural environments may promote fitness, too. As people explore an environment, they seek patterns that help them negotiate it and take advantage of its contents. The patterns include well-delineated regions, improbable but informative features like parallel and perpendicular lines, and axes of symmetry and elongation. All are used by the brain to carve the visual field into surfaces, group the surfaces into objects, and organize the objects so people can recognize them the next time they see them. Vision researchers such as David Marr, Roger Shepard, and V. S. Ramachandran have suggested that the pleasing visual motifs used in art and decoration exaggerate these patterns, which tell the brain that the visual system is functioning properly and analyzing the world accurately.²⁸ By the same logic, tonal and rhythmic patterns in music may tap into mechanisms used by the auditory system to organize the world of sound.²⁹

As the visual system converts raw colors and forms to interpretable objects and scenes, the aesthetic coloring of its products gets even richer. Surveys of art, photography, and landscape design, together with experiments on people's visual tastes, have found recurring motifs in the sights that give people pleasure.³⁰ Some of the motifs may belong to a search image for the optimal human habitat, a savanna: open grassland dotted with trees and bodies of water and inhabited by animals and flowering and fruiting plants. The enjoyment of the forms of living things has been dubbed biophilia by E. O. Wilson, and it appears to be a human universal.³¹ Other patterns in a landscape may be pleasing because they are signals of safety, such as protected but panoramic views. Still others may be compelling because they are geographic features that make a terrain easy to explore and remember, such as landmarks, boundaries, and paths. The study of evolutionary aesthetics is also documenting the features that make a face or body beautiful.³² The prized lineaments are those that signal health, vigor, and fertility.

People are imaginative animals who constantly recombine events in their mind's eye. That ability is one of the engines of human intelligence, allowing  {406}  us to envision new technologies (such as snaring an animal or purifying a plant extract) and new social skills (such as exchanging promises or finding common enemies).³³ Narrative fiction engages this ability to explore hypothetical worlds, whether for edification — expanding the number of scenarios whose outcomes can be predicted — or for pleasure — vicariously experiencing love, adulation, exploration, or victory.³⁴ Hence Horace's definition of the purpose of literature: to instruct and to delight.

In good works of art, these aesthetic elements are layered so that the whole is more than the sum of its parts.³⁵ A good landscape painting or photograph will simultaneously evoke an inviting environment and be composed of geometric shapes with pleasing balance and contrast. A compelling story may simulate juicy gossip about desirable or powerful people, put us in an exciting time or place, tickle our language instincts with well-chosen words, and teach us something new about the entanglements of families, politics, or love. Many kinds of art are contrived to induce a buildup and release of psychological tension, mimicking other forms of pleasure. And a work of art is often embedded in a social happening in which the emotions are evoked in many members of a community at the same time, which can multiply the pleasure and grant a sense of solidarity. Dissanayake emphasizes this spiritual part of the art experience, which she calls “making special.”³⁶

A final bit of psychology engaged by the arts is the drive for status. One of the items on Dutton's list of the universal signatures of art is impracticality. But useless things, paradoxically, can be highly useful for a certain purpose: appraising the assets of the bearer. Thorstein Veblen first made the point in his theory of social status.³⁷ Since we cannot easily peer into the bank books or Palm Pilots of our neighbors, a good way to size up their means is to see whether they can afford to waste them on luxuries and leisure. Veblen wrote that the psychology of taste is driven by three “pecuniary canons”: conspicuous consumption, conspicuous leisure, and conspicuous waste. They explain why status symbols are typically objects made by arduous and specialized labor out of rare materials, or else signs that the person is not bound to a life of manual toil, such as delicate and restrictive clothing or expensive and time-consuming hobbies. In a beautiful convergence, the biologist Amotz Zahavi used the same principle to explain the evolution of outlandish ornamentation in animals, such as the tail of the peacock.³⁸ Only the healthiest peacocks can afford to divert nutrients to expensive and cumbersome plumage. The peahen sizes up mates by the splendor of their tails, and evolution selects for males who muster the best ones.

Though most aficionados are aghast at the suggestion, art — especially elite art — is a textbook example of conspicuous consumption. Almost by definition, art has no practical function, and as Dutton points out in his list, it universally entails virtuosity (a sign of genetic quality, the free time to hone skills, or both) and criticism (which sizes up the worth of the art and the  {407}  artist). Through most of European history, fine art and sumptuosity went hand in hand, as in the ostentatious decorations of opera and theater halls, the ornate frames around paintings, the formal dress of musicians, and the covers and bindings of old books. Art and artists were under the patronage of aristocrats or of the nouveau riche seeking instant respectability. Today, paintings, sculptures, and manuscripts continue to be sold at exorbitant and much-discussed prices (such as the $82.5 million paid for van Gogh's Portrait of Dr. Gachet in 1990).

In The Mating Mind, the psychologist Geoffrey Miller argues that the impulse to create art is a mating tactic: a way to impress prospective sexual and marriage partners with the quality of one's brain and thus, indirectly, one's genes. Artistic virtuosity, he notes, is unevenly distributed, neurally demanding, hard to fake, and widely prized. Artists, in other words, are sexy. Nature even gives us a precedent, the bowerbirds of Australia and New Guinea. The males construct elaborate nests and fastidiously decorate them with colorful objects such as orchids, snail shells, berries, and bark. Some of them literally paint their bowers with regurgitated fruit residue using leaves or bark as a brush. The females appraise the bowers and mate with the creators of the most symmetrical and well-ornamented ones. Miller argues that the analogy is exact:

If you could interview a male Satin Bowerbird for Artforum magazine, he might say something like “I find this implacable urge for self-expression, for playing with color and form for their own sake, quite inexplicable. I cannot remember when I first developed this raging thirst to present richly saturated color-fields within a monumental yet minimalist stage-set, but I feel connected to something beyond myself when I indulge these passions. When I see a beautiful orchid high in a tree, I simply must have it for my own. When I see a single shell out of place in my creation, I must put it right.... It is a happy coincidence that females sometimes come to my gallery openings and appreciate my work, but it would be an insult to suggest that I create in order to procreate.” Fortunately, bowerbirds cannot talk, so we are free to use sexual selection to explain their work, without them begging to differ.³⁹

I am partial to a weaker version of the theory, in which one of the functions (not the only function) of creating and owning art is to impress other people (not just prospective mates) with one's social status (not just one's genetic quality). The idea goes back to Veblen and has been amplified by the art historian Quentin Bell and by Tom Wolfe in his fiction and nonfiction.⁴⁰ Perhaps its greatest champion today is the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, who argues that connoisseurship of difficult and inaccessible works of culture serves as a membership badge in society's upper strata.⁴¹ Remember that in all  {408}  these theories, proximate and ultimate causes may be different. As with Miller's bowerbird, status and fitness need not enter the minds of people who create or appreciate art; they may simply explain how an urge for self-expression and an eye for beauty and skill evolved.

Regardless of what lies behind our instincts for art, those instincts bestow it with a transcendence of time, place, and culture. Hume noted that “the general principles of taste are uniform in human nature.... the same Homer who pleased at Athens and Rome two thousand years ago, is still admired at Paris and London.”⁴² Though people can argue about whether the glass is half full or half empty, a universal human aesthetic really can be discerned beneath the variation across cultures. Dutton comments:

It is important to note how remarkably well the arts travel outside their home cultures: Beethoven and Shakespeare are beloved in Japan, Japanese prints are adored by Brazilians, Greek tragedy is performed worldwide, while, much to the regret of many local movie industries, Hollywood films have wide cross-cultural appeal.... Even Indian music ..., while it sounds initially strange to the Western ear, can be shown to rely on rhythmic pulse and acceleration, repetition, variation and surprise, as well as modulation and divinely sweet melody: in fact, all the same devices found in Western music.⁴³

One can extend the range of the human aesthetic even further. The Lascaux cave paintings, crafted in the late old Stone Age, continue to dazzle viewers in the age of the Internet. The faces of Nefertiti and Botticelli's Venus could appear on the cover of a twenty-first-century fashion magazine. The plot of the hero myth found in countless traditional cultures was transplanted effectively into the Star Wars saga. Western museum collectors plundered the prehistoric treasures of Africa, Asia, and the Americas not to add to the ethnographic record but because their patrons found the works beautiful to gaze at.

A wry demonstration of the universality of basic visual tastes came from a 1993 stunt by two artists, Vitaly Komar and Alexander Melamid, who used marketing research polls to assess Americans’ taste in art.⁴⁴ They asked respondents about their preferences in color, subject matter, composition, and style, and found considerable uniformity. People said they liked realistic, smoothly painted landscapes in green and blue containing animals, women, children, and heroic figures. To satisfy this consumer demand, Komar and Melamid painted a composite of the responses: a lakeside landscape in a nineteenth-century realist style featuring children, deer, and George Washington. That's mildly amusing, but no one was prepared for what came next. When the painters replicated the polling in nine other countries, including Ukraine, Turkey, China, and Kenya, they found pretty much the same  {409}  preferences: an idealized landscape, like the ones on calendars, and only minor substitutions from the American standard (hippos instead of deer, for example). What is even more interesting is that these McPaintings exemplify the kind of landscape that had been characterized as optimal for our species by researchers in evolutionary aesthetics.⁴⁵

The art critic Arthur Danto had a different explanation: Western calendars are marketed all over the world, just like the rest of Western culture and art.⁴⁶ To many intellectuals, the globalization of Western styles is proof that tastes in art are arbitrary. People show similar aesthetic preferences, they claim, only because Western ideals have been exported to the world by imperialism, global business, and electronic media. There may be some truth to this, and for many people it is the morally correct position because it implies that there is nothing superior about Western culture or inferior about the indigenous ones it is replacing.

But there is another side to the story. Western societies are good at providing things that people want: clean water, effective medicine, varied and abundant food, rapid transportation and communication. They perfect these goods and services not from benevolence but from self-interest, namely the profits to be made in selling them. Perhaps the aesthetics industry also perfected ways of giving people what they like — in this case, art forms that appeal to basic human tastes, such as calendar landscapes, popular songs, and Hollywood romances and adventures. So even if an art form matured in the West, it may be not an arbitrary practice spread by a powerful navy but a successful product that engages a universal human aesthetic. This all sounds very parochial and Eurocentric, and I wouldn't push it too far, but it must have an element of truth: if there is a profit to be made in appealing to global human tastes, it would be surprising if entrepreneurs hadn't taken advantage of it. And it isn't as Eurocentric as one might think. Western culture, like Western technology and Western cuisine, is voraciously eclectic, appropriating any trick that pleases people from any culture it encounters. An example is one of America's most important culture exports, popular music. Ragtime, jazz, rock, blues, soul, and rap grew out of African American musical forms, which originally incorporated African rhythms and vocal styles.

~

So what happened in 1910 that supposedly changed human nature? The event that stood out in Virginia Woolf's recollection was a London exhibition of the paintings of the post-Impressionists, including Cezanne, Gauguin, Picasso, and van Gogh. It was an unveiling of the movement called modernism, and when Woolf wrote her declaration in the 1920s, the movement was taking over the arts.

Modernism certainly proceeded as if human nature had changed. All the tricks that artists had used for millennia to please the human palate were cast  {410}  aside. In painting, realistic depiction gave way to freakish distortions of shape and color and then to abstract grids, shapes, dribbles, splashes, and, in the $200,000 painting featured in the recent comedy Art, a blank white canvas. In literature, omniscient narration, structured plots, the orderly introduction of characters, and general readability were replaced by a stream of consciousness, events presented out of order, baffling characters and causal sequences, subjective and disjointed narration, and difficult prose. In poetry, the use of rhyme, meter, verse structure, and clarity were frequently abandoned. In music, conventional rhythm and melody were set aside in favor of atonal, serial, dissonant, and twelve-tone compositions. In architecture, ornamentation, human scale, garden space, and traditional craftsmanship went out the window (or would have if the windows could have been opened), and buildings were “machines for living” made of industrial materials in boxy shapes. Modernist architecture culminated both in the glass-and-steel towers of multinational corporations and in the dreary high-rises of American housing projects, postwar British council flats, and Soviet apartment blocks.

Why did the artistic elite spearhead a movement that called for such masochism? In part it was touted as a reaction to the complacency of the Victorian era and to the naïve bourgeois belief in certain knowledge, inevitable progress, and the justice of the social order. Weird and disturbing art was supposed to remind people that the world was a weird and disturbing place. And science, supposedly, was offering the same message. According to the version that trickled into the humanities, Freud showed that behavior springs from unconscious and irrational impulses, Einstein showed that time and space can be defined only relative to an observer, and Heisenberg showed that the position and momentum of an object were inherently uncertain because they were affected by the act of observation. Much later, this embroidery of physics inspired the famous hoax in which the physicist Alan Sokal successfully published a paper filled with gibberish in the journal Social Text.⁴⁷

But modernism wanted to do more than just afflict the comfortable. Its glorification of pure form and its disdain for easy beauty and bourgeois pleasure had an explicit rationale and a political and spiritual agenda. In a review of a book defending the mission of modernism, the critic Frederick Turner explains them:

The great project of modern art was to diagnose, and cure, the sickness unto death of modern humankind.... [Its artistic mission] is to identify and strip away the false sense of routine experience and interpretive framing provided by conformist mass commercial society, and to make us experience nakedly and anew the immediacy of reality through our peeled and rejuvenated senses. This therapeutic work is also a spiritual  {411}  mission, in that a community of such transformed human beings would, in theory, be able to construct a better kind of society. The enemies of the process are cooptation, commercial exploitation and reproduction, and kitsch.... Fresh, raw experience — to which artists have an unmediated and childlike access — is routinized, compartmentalized, and dulled into insensibility by society.⁴⁸

Beginning in the 1970s, the mission of modernism was extended by the set of styles and philosophies called postmodernism. Postmodernism was even more aggressively relativistic, insisting that there are many perspectives on the world, none of them privileged. It denied even more vehemently the possibility of meaning, knowledge, progress, and shared cultural values. It was more Marxist and far more paranoid, asserting that claims to truth and progress

were tactics of political domination which privileged the interests of straight white males. According to the doctrine, mass-produced commodities and media-disseminated images and stories were designed to make authentic experience impossible.

The goal of postmodernist art is to help us break out of this prison. The artists try to preempt cultural motifs and representational techniques by taking capitalist icons (such as ads, package designs, and pinup photos) and defacing them, exaggerating them, or presenting them in odd contexts. The earliest examples were Andy Warhol's paintings of soup can labels and his repetitive false-color images of Marilyn Monroe. More recent ones include the Whitney Museum's “Black Male” exhibit described in Chapter 12 and Cindy Sherman's photographs of grotesquely assembled bi-gendered mannequins. (I saw them as part of an MIT exhibit that explored “the female body as a site of conflicting desires, and femininity as a taut web of social expectations, historical assumptions, and ideological constructions.”) In postmodernist literature, authors comment on what they are writing while they are writing it. In postmodernist architecture, materials and details from different kinds of buildings and historical periods are thrown together in incongruous ways, such as an awning made of chain-link fencing in a fancy shopping mall or Corinthian columns holding up nothing on the top of a sleek skyscraper. Postmodernist films contain sly references to the filmmaking process or to earlier films. In all these forms, irony, self-referential allusions, and the pretense of not taking the work seriously are meant to draw attention to the representations themselves, which (according to the doctrine) we are ordinarily in danger of mistaking for reality.

~

Once we recognize what modernism and postmodernism have done to the elite arts and humanities, the reasons for their decline and fall become all  {412}  too obvious. The movements are based on a false theory of human psychology, the Blank Slate. They fail to apply their most vaunted ability — stripping away pretense — to themselves. And they take all the fun out of art!

Modernism and postmodernism cling to a theory of perception that was rejected long ago: that the sense organs present the brain with a tableau of raw colors and sounds and that everything else in perceptual experience is a learned social construction. As we saw in preceding chapters, the visual system of the brain comprises some fifty regions that take raw pixels and effortlessly organize them into surfaces, colors, motions, and three-dimensional objects. We can no more turn the system off and get immediate access to pure sensory experience than we can override our stomachs and tell them when to release their digestive enzymes. The visual system, moreover, does not drug us into a hallucinatory fantasy disconnected from the real world. It evolved to feed us information about the consequential things out there, like rocks, cliffs, animals, and other people and their intentions.

Nor does innate organization stop at apprehending the physical structure of the world. It also colors our visual experience with universal emotions and aesthetic pleasures. Young children prefer calendar landscapes to pictures of deserts and forests, and babies as young as three months old gaze longer at a pretty face than at a plain one.⁴⁹ Babies prefer consonant musical intervals over dissonant ones, and two-year-olds embark on a lifetime of composing and appreciating narrative fiction when they engage in pretend play.⁵⁰

When we perceive the products of other people's behavior, we evaluate them through our intuitive psychology, our theory of mind. We do not take a stretch of language or an artifact like a product or work of art at face value, but try to guess why the producers came out with them and what effect they hope to have on us (as we saw in Chapter 12). Of course, people can be taken in by a clever liar, but they are not trapped in a false world of words and images and in need of rescue by postmodernist artists.

Modernist and postmodernist artists and critics fail to acknowledge another feature of human nature that drives the arts: the hunger for status, especially their own hunger for status. As we saw, the psychology of art is entangled with the psychology of esteem, with its appreciation of the rare, the sumptuous, the virtuosic, and the dazzling. The problem is that whenever people seek rare things, entrepreneurs make them less rare, and whenever a dazzling performance is imitated, it can become commonplace. The result is the perennial turnover of styles in the arts. The psychologist Colin Martindale has documented that every art form increases in complexity, ornamentation, and emotional charge until the evocative potential of the style is fully exploited.⁵¹ Attention then turns to the style itself, at which point the style gives way to a new one. Martindale attributes this cycle to habituation on the part of the audience, but it also comes from the desire for attention on the part of the artists.  {413} 

In twentieth-century art, the search for the new new thing became desperate because of the economies of mass production and the affluence of the middle class. As cameras, art reproductions, radios, records, magazines, movies, and paperbacks became affordable, ordinary people could buy art by the carload. It is hard to distinguish oneself as a good artist or discerning connoisseur if people are up to their ears in the stuff, much of it of reasonable artistic merit. The problem for artists is not that popular culture is so bad but that it is so good, at least some of the time. Art could no longer confer prestige by the rarity or excellence of the works themselves, so it had to confer it by the rarity of the powers of appreciation. As Bourdieu points out, only a special elite of initiates could get the point of the new works of art. And with beautiful things spewing out of printing presses and record plants, distinctive works need not be beautiful. Indeed, they had better not be, because now any schmo could have beautiful things.

One result is that modernist art stopped trying to appeal to the senses. On the contrary, it disdained beauty as saccharine and lightweight.⁵² In his 1913 book Art, the critic Clive Bell (Virginia Woolf's brother-in-law and Quentin's father) argued that beauty had no place in good art because it was rooted in crass experiences.⁵³ People use beautiful in phrases like “beautiful huntin’ and shootin',” he wrote, or worse, to refer to beautiful women. Bell assimilated the behaviorist psychology of his day and argued that ordinary people come to enjoy art by a process of Pavlovian conditioning. They appreciate a painting only if it depicts a beautiful woman, music only if it evokes “emotions similar to those provoked by young ladies in musical farces,” and poetry only if it arouses feelings like the ones once felt for the vicar's daughter. Thirty-five years later, the abstract painter Barnett Newman approvingly declared that the impulse of modern art was “the desire to destroy beauty.”⁵⁴ Postmodernists were even more dismissive. Beauty, they said, consists of arbitrary standards dictated by an elite. It enslaves women by forcing them to conform to unrealistic ideals, and it panders to market-oriented art collectors.⁵⁵

To be fair, modernism comprises many styles and artists, and not all of them rejected beauty and other human sensibilities. At its best, modernist design perfected a visual elegance and an aesthetic of form-following-function that were welcome alternatives to Victorian bric-a-brac and ostentatious displays of wealth. The art movements opened up new stylistic possibilities, including motifs from Africa and Oceania. The fiction and poetry offered invigorating intellectual workouts, and countered a sentimental romanticism that saw art as a spontaneous overflow of the artist's personality and emotion. The problem with modernism was that its philosophy did not acknowledge the ways in which it was appealing to human pleasure. As its denial of beauty became an orthodoxy, and as its aesthetic successes were appropriated into  {414}  commercial culture (such as minimalism in graphic design), modernism left nowhere for artists to go.

Quentin Bell suggested that when the variations within a genre are exhausted, people avail themselves of a different canon of status, which he added to Veblen's list. In “conspicuous outrage,” bad boys (and girls) flaunt their ability to get away with shocking the bourgeoisie.⁵⁶ The never-ending campaign by postmodernist artists to attract the attention of a jaded public progressed from puzzling audiences to doing everything they could to offend them. Everyone has heard of the notorious cases: Robert Mapplethorpe's photographs of sadomasochistic acts, Andres Serrano's Piss Christ (a photo of a crucifix in a jar of the artist's urine), Chris Ofili's painting of the Virgin Mary smeared in elephant dung, and the nine-hour performance piece “Flag Fuck (w/Beef) #17B,” in which Ivan Hubiak danced on stage wearing an American flag as a diaper while draping himself with raw meat. Actually, this last one never happened; it was invented by writers for the satirical newspaper The Onion in an article entitled “Performance Artist Shocks U.S. Out of Apathetic Slumber.”⁵⁷ But I bet I had you fooled.

Another result is that elite art could no longer be appreciated without a support team of critics and theoreticians. They did not simply evaluate and interpret art, like movie critics or book reviewers, but supplied the art with its rationale. Tom Wolfe wrote The Painted Word after reading an art review in the New York Times that criticized realist painting because it lacked “something crucial,” namely, “a persuasive theory.” Wolfe explains:

Then and there I experienced a flash known as the Aha! phenomenon, and the buried life of contemporary art was revealed to me for the first time.... All these years I, like so many others, had stood in front of a thousand, two thousand, God-knows-how-many thousand Pollocks, de Koonings, Newmans, Nolands, Rothkos, Rauschenbergs, Judds, Johnses, Olitskis, Louises, Stills, Franz Klines, Frankenthalers, Kellys, and Frank Stellas, now squinting, now popping the eye sockets open, now drawing back, now moving closer — waiting, waiting, forever waiting for... it... for it to come into focus, namely, the visual reward (for so much effort) which must be there, which everyone (tout le monde) knew to be there — waiting for something to radiate directly from the paintings on these invariably pure white walls, in this room, in this moment, into my own optic chiasma. All these years, in short, I had assumed that in art, if nowhere else, seeing is believing. Well — how very shortsighted! Now, at last, on April 28, 1974, I could see. I had gotten it backward all along. Not “seeing is believing,” you ninny, but “believing is seeing,” for Modern Art has become completely literary: the paintings and other works exist only to illustrate the text.⁵⁸  {415} 

Once again, postmodernism took this extreme to an even greater extreme in which the theory upstaged the subject matter and became a genre of performance art in itself. Postmodernist scholars, taking off from the critical theorists Theodor Adorno and Michel Foucault, distrust the demand for “linguistic transparency” because it hobbles the ability “to think the world more radically” and puts a text in danger of being turned into a mass-market commodity.⁵⁹ This attitude has made them regular winners of the annual Bad Writing Contest, which “celebrates the most stylistically lamentable passages found in scholarly books and articles.”⁶⁰ In 1998, first prize went to the lauded professor of rhetoric at Berkeley, Judith Butler, for the following sentence:

The move from a structuralist account in which capital is understood to structure social relations in relatively homologous ways to a view of hegemony in which power relations are subject to repetition, convergence, and rearticulation brought the question of temporality into the thinking of structure, and marked a shift from a form of Althusserian theory that takes structural totalities as theoretical objects to one in which the insights into the contingent possibility of structure inaugurate a renewed conception of hegemony as bound up with the contingent sites and strategies of the rearticulation of power.

Dutton, whose journal Philosophy and Literature sponsors the contest, assures us that this is not a satire. The rules of the contest forbid it: “Deliberate parody cannot be allowed in a field where unintended self-parody is so widespread.”

A final blind spot to human nature is the failure of contemporary artists and theorists to deconstruct their own moral pretensions. Artists and critics have long believed that an appreciation of elite art is ennobling and have spoken of cultural philistines in tones ordinarily reserved for child molesters (as we see in the two meanings of the word barbarian). The affectation of social reform that surrounds modernism and postmodernism is part of this tradition.

Though moral sophistication requires an appreciation of history and cultural diversity, there is no reason to think that the elite arts are a particularly good way to instill it compared with middlebrow realistic fiction or traditional education. The plain fact is that there are no obvious moral consequences to how people entertain themselves in their leisure time. The conviction that artists and connoisseurs are morally advanced is a cognitive illusion, arising from the fact that our circuitry for morality is cross-wired with our circuitry for status (see Chapter 15). As the critic George Steiner has pointed out, “We know that a man can read Goethe or Rilke in the evening, that he can play Bach and Schubert, and go to his day's work at Auschwitz in the morning.”⁶¹ Conversely there must be many unlettered people who give blood, risk their  {416}  lives as volunteer firefighters, or adopt handicapped children, but whose opinion of modern art is “My four-year-old daughter could have done that.”

The moral and political track record of modernist artists is nothing to be proud of. Some were despicable in the conduct of their personal lives, and many embraced fascism or Stalinism. The modernist composer Karlheinz Stockhausen described the September 11,2001, terrorist attacks as “the greatest work of art imaginable for the whole cosmos” and added, enviously, that “artists, too, sometimes go beyond the limits of what is feasible and conceivable, so that we wake up, so that we open ourselves to another world.”⁶² Nor is the theory of postmodernism especially progressive. A denial of objective reality is no friend to moral progress, because it prevents one from saying, for example, that slavery or the Holocaust really took place. And as Adam Gopnik has pointed out, the political messages of most postmodernist pieces are utterly banal, like “racism is bad.” But they are stated so obliquely that viewers are made to feel morally superior for being able to figure them out.

As for sneering at the bourgeoisie, it is a sophomoric grab at status with no claim to moral or political virtue. The fact is that the values of the middle class — personal responsibility, devotion to family and neighborhood, avoidance of macho violence, respect for liberal democracy — are good things, not bad things. Most of the world wants to join the bourgeoisie, and most artists are members in good standing who adopted a few bohemian affectations. Given the history of the twentieth century, the reluctance of the bourgeoisie to join mass Utopian uprisings can hardly be held against them. And if they want to hang a painting of a red barn or a weeping clown above their couch, it's none of our damn business.

The dominant theories of elite art and criticism in the twentieth century grew out of a militant denial of human nature. One legacy is ugly, baffling, and insulting art. The other is pretentious and unintelligible scholarship. And they're surprised that people are staying away in droves?

~

A revolt has begun. Museum-goers have become bored with the umpteenth exhibit on the female body featuring dismembered torsos or hundreds of pounds of lard chewed up and spat out by the artist.⁶³ Graduate students in the humanities are grumbling in emails and conference hallways about being locked out of the job market unless they write in gibberish while randomly dropping the names of authorities like Foucault and Butler. Maverick scholars are doffing the blinders that prevented them from looking at exciting developments in the sciences of human nature. And younger artists are wondering how the art world got itself into the bizarre place in which beauty is a dirty word.

These currents of discontent are coming together in a new philosophy of the arts, one that is consilient with the sciences and respectful of the minds  {417}  and senses of human beings. It is taking shape both in the community of artists and in the community of critics and scholars.

In the year 2000, the composer Stefania de Kenessey puckishly announced a new “movement” in the arts, Derriere Guard, which celebrates beauty, technique, and narrative.⁶⁴ If that sounds too innocuous to count as a movement, consider the response of the director of the Whitney, the shrine of the dismembered-torso establishment, who called the members of the movement “a bunch of crypto-Nazi conservative bullshitters.”⁶⁵ Ideas similar to Derriere Guard's have sprung up in movements called the Radical Center, Natural Classicism, the New Formalism, the New Narrativism, Stuckism, the Return of Beauty, and No Mo Po Mo.⁶⁶ The movements combine high and low culture and are opposed equally to the postmodernist left, with its disdain for beauty and artistry, and to the cultural right, with its narrow canons of “great works” and fire-and-brimstone sermons on the decline of civilization. It includes classically trained musicians who mix classical and popular compositions, realist painters and sculptors, verse poets, journalistic novelists, and dance directors and performance artists who use rhythm and melody in their work.

Within the academy, a growing number of mavericks are looking to evolutionary psychology and cognitive science in an effort to reestablish human nature at the center of any understanding of the arts. They include Brian Boyd, Joseph Carroll, Denis Dutton, Nancy Easterlin, David Evans, Jonathan Gottschall, Paul Hernadi, Patrick Hogan, Elaine Scarry, Wendy Steiner, Robert Storey, Frederick Turner, and Mark Turner.⁶⁷ A good grasp of how the mind works is indispensable to the arts and humanities for at least two reasons.

One is that the real medium of artists, whatever their genre, is human mental representations. Oil paint, moving limbs, and printed words cannot penetrate the brain directly. They trigger a cascade of neural events that begin with the sense organs and culminate in thoughts, emotions, and memories. Cognitive science and cognitive neuroscience, which map out the cascade, offer a wealth of information to anyone who wants to understand how artists achieve their effects. Vision research can illuminate painting and sculpture.⁶⁸ Psycho-acoustics and linguistics can enrich the study of music.⁶⁹ Linguistics can give insight on poetry, metaphor, and literary style.⁷⁰ Mental imagery research helps to explain the techniques of narrative prose.⁷¹ The theory of mind (intuitive psychology) can shed light on our ability to entertain fictional worlds.⁷² The study of visual attention and short-term memory can help explain the experience of cinema.⁷³ And evolutionary aesthetics can help explain the feelings of beauty and pleasure that can accompany all of these acts of perception.⁷⁴

Ironically, the early modernist painters were avid consumers of perception research. It may have been introduced to them by Gertrude Stein, who studied psychology with William James at Harvard and conducted research on  {418}  visual attention under his supervision.⁷⁵ The Bauhaus designers and artists, too, were appreciators of perceptual psychology, particularly the contemporary Gestalt school.⁷⁶ But the consilience was lost as the two cultures drifted apart, and only recently have they begun to come back together. I predict that the application of cognitive science and evolutionary psychology to the arts will become a growth area in criticism and scholarship.

The other point of contact may be more important still. Ultimately what draws us to a work of art is not just the sensory experience of the medium but its emotional content and insight into the human condition. And these tap into the timeless tragedies of our biological predicament: our mortality, our finite knowledge and wisdom, the differences among us, and our conflicts of interest with friends, neighbors, relatives, and lovers. All are topics of the sciences of human nature.

The idea that art should reflect the perennial and universal qualities of the human species is not new. Samuel Johnson, in the preface to his edition of Shakespeare's plays, comments on the lasting appeal of that great intuitive psychologist:

Nothing can please many, and please long, but just representations of general nature. Particular manners can be known to few, and therefore few only can judge how nearly they are copied. The irregular combinations of fanciful invention may delight a-while, by that novelty of which the common satiety of life sends us all in quest; but the pleasures of sudden wonder are soon exhausted, and the mind can only repose on the stability of truth.

Today we may be seeing a new convergence of explorations of the human condition by artists and scientists — not because scientists are trying to take over the humanities, but because artists and humanists are beginning to look to the sciences, or at least to the scientific mindset that sees us as a species with a complex psychological endowment. In explaining this connection I cannot hope to compete with the words of the artists themselves, and I will conclude with the overtures of three fine novelists.

Iris Murdoch, haunted by the origins of the moral sense, comments on its endurance in fiction:

We make, in many respects though not in all, the same kinds of moral judgments as the Greeks did, and we recognize good or decent people in times and literatures remote from our own. Patroclus, Antigone, Cordelia, Mr. Knightley, Alyosha. Patroclus’ invariable kindness. Cordelia's truthfulness. Alyosha telling his father not to be afraid of hell. It is just as important that Patroclus should be kind to the captive  {419}  women as that Emma should be kind to Miss Bates, and we feel this importance in an immediate and natural way in both cases in spite of the fact that nearly three thousand years divide the writers. And this, when one reflects on it, is a remarkable testimony to the existence of a single durable human nature.⁷⁷

A. S. Byatt, asked by the editors of the New York Times Magazine for the best narrative of the millennium, picked the story of Scheherazade:

The stories in “The Thousand and One Nights” ... are stories about storytelling without ever ceasing to be stories about love and life and death and money and food and other human necessities. Narration is as much a part of human nature as breath and the circulation of the blood. Modernist literature tried to do away with storytelling, which it thought vulgar, replacing it with flashbacks, epiphanies, streams of consciousness. But storytelling is intrinsic to biological time, which we cannot escape. Life, Pascal said, is like living in a prison from which every day fellow prisoners are taken away to be executed. We are all, like Scheherazade, under sentences of death, and we all think of our lives as narratives, with beginnings, middles, and ends.⁷⁸

John Updike, also asked for reflections at the turn of the millennium, commented on the future of his own profession. “A writer of fiction, a professional liar, is paradoxically obsessed with what is true,” he wrote, and “the unit of truth, at least for a fiction writer, is the human animal, belonging to the species Homo sapiens, unchanged for at least 100,000 years.”

Evolution moves more slowly than history, and much slower than the technology of recent centuries; surely sociobiology, surprisingly maligned in some scientific quarters, performs a useful service in investigating what traits are innate and which are acquired. What kind of cultural software can our evolved hard-wiring support? Fiction, in its groping way, is drawn to those moments of discomfort when society asks more than its individual members can, or wish to, provide. Ordinary people experiencing friction on the page is what warms our hands and hearts as we write....

To be human is to be in the tense condition of a death-foreseeing, consciously libidinous animal. No other earthly creature suffers such a capacity for thought, such a complexity of envisioned but frustrated possibilities, such a troubling ability to question the tribal and biological imperatives.

So conflicted and ingenious a creature makes an endlessly interesting  {420}  focus for the meditations of fiction. It seems to me true that Homo sapiens will never settle into any Utopia so complacently as to relax all its conflicts and erase all its perversity-breeding neediness.⁷⁹

Literature has three voices, wrote the scholar Robert Storey: those of the author, the audience, and the species.⁸⁰ These novelists are reminding us of the voice of the species, an essential constituent of all the arts, and a fitting theme with which to wrap up my own story.

THE VOICE OF THE SPECIES

The Blank Slate was an attractive vision. It promised to make racism, sexism, and class prejudice factually untenable. It appeared to be a bulwark against the kind of thinking that led to ethnic genocide. It aimed to prevent people from slipping into a premature fatalism about preventable social ills. It put a spotlight on the treatment of children, indigenous peoples, and the underclass. The Blank Slate thus became part of a secular faith and appeared to constitute the common decency of our age.

But the Blank Slate had, and has, a dark side. The vacuum that it posited in human nature was eagerly filled by totalitarian regimes, and it did nothing to prevent their genocides. It perverts education, childrearing, and the arts into forms of social engineering. It torments mothers who work outside the home and parents whose children did not turn out as they would have liked. It threatens to outlaw biomedical research that could alleviate human suffering. Its corollary, the Noble Savage, invites contempt for the principles of democracy and of “a government of laws and not of men.” It blinds us to our cognitive and moral shortcomings. And in matters of policy it has elevated sappy dogmas above the search for workable solutions.

The Blank Slate is not some ideal that we should all hope and pray is true. No, it is an anti-life, anti-human theoretical abstraction that denies our common humanity, our inherent interests, and our individual preferences. Though it has pretensions of celebrating our potential, it does the opposite, because our potential comes from the combinatorial interplay of wonderfully complex faculties, not from the passive blankness of an empty tablet.

Regardless of its good and bad effects, the Blank Slate is an empirical hypothesis about the functioning of the brain and must be evaluated in terms of whether or not it is true. The modern sciences of mind, brain, genes, and evolution are increasingly showing that it is not true. The result is a rearguard effort to salvage the Blank Slate by disfiguring science and intellectual life:  {422}  denying the possibility of objectivity and truth, dumbing down issues into dichotomies, replacing facts and logic with political posturing.

The Blank Slate became so entrenched in intellectual life that the prospect of doing without it can be deeply unsettling. In topics from childrearing to sexuality, from natural foods to violence, ideas that seemed immoral even to question turn out to be not just questionable but probably wrong. Even people with no ideological ax to grind can feel a sense of vertigo when they learn of such taboos being broken: “O brave new world that has such people in it!” Is science leading to a place where prejudice is all right, where children may be neglected, where Machiavellianism is accepted, where inequality and violence are met with resignation, where people are treated like machines?

Not at all! By unhandcuffing widely shared values from moribund factual dogmas, the rationale for those values can only become clearer. We understand why we condemn prejudice, cruelty to children, and violence against women, and can focus our efforts on how to implement the goals we value most. We thereby protect those goals against the upheavals of factual understanding that science perennially delivers.

Abandoning the Blank Slate, in any case, is not as radical as it might first appear. True, it is a revolution in many sectors of modern intellectual life. But except for a few intellectuals who have let their theories get the better of them, it is not a revolution in the world views of most people. I suspect that few people really believe, deep down, that boys and girls are interchangeable, that all differences in intelligence come from the environment, that parents can micromanage the personalities of their children, that humans are born free of selfish tendencies, or that appealing stories, melodies, and faces are arbitrary social constructions. Margaret Mead, an icon of twentieth-century egalitarianism, told her daughter that she credited her own intellectual talent to her genes, and I can confirm that such split personalities are common among academics.¹ Scholars who publicly deny that intelligence is a meaningful concept treat it as anything but meaningless in their professional lives. Those who argue that gender differences are a reversible social construction do not treat them that way in their advice to their daughters, their dealings with the opposite sex, and their unguarded gossip, humor, and reflections on their lives.

Acknowledging human nature does not mean overturning our personal world views, and I would have nothing to suggest as a replacement if it did. It means only taking intellectual life out of its parallel universe and reuniting it with science and, when it is borne out by science, with common sense. The alternative is to make intellectual life increasingly irrelevant to human affairs, to turn intellectuals into hypocrites, and to turn everyone else into anti-intellectuals.

Scientists and public intellectuals are not the only people who have pondered how the mind works. We are all psychologists, and some people, without  {423}  the benefit of credentials, are great psychologists. Among them are poets and novelists, whose business, as we saw in the preceding chapter, is to create “just representations of general nature.” Paradoxically, in today's intellectual climate novelists may have a clearer mandate than scientists to speak the truth about human nature. Sophisticated people sneer at feel-good comedies and saccharine romances in which all loose ends are tied and everyone lives happily ever after. Life is nothing like that, we note, and we look to the arts for edification about the painful dilemmas of the human condition.

Yet when it comes to the science of human beings, this same audience says: Give us schmaltz! “Pessimism” is considered a legitimate criticism of observations of human nature, and people expect theories to be a source of sentimental uplift. “Shakespeare had no conscience; neither do I,” said George Bernard Shaw. This was not a confession of psychopathy but an affirmation of a good playwright's obligation to take every character's point of view seriously. Scientists of human behavior have the same obligation, and it does not require them to turn off their consciences in the spheres in which they must be exercised.

Poets and novelists have made many of the points of this book with greater wit and power than any academic scribbler could hope to do. They allow me to conclude the book by revisiting some of its main themes without merely repeating them. What follows are five vignettes from literature that capture, for me, some of the morals of the sciences of human nature. They underscore that the discoveries of those sciences should be faced not with fear and loathing but with the balance and discernment we use when we reflect on human nature in the rest of our lives.

~

The first two verses of Emily Dickinson's “The Brain Is Wider Than the Sky” express the grandeur in the view of the mind as consisting in the activity of the brain.² Here and in her other poems, Dickinson refers to “the brain,” not  {424}  “the soul” or even “the mind,” as if to remind her readers that the seat of our thought and experience is a hunk of matter. Yes, science is, in a sense, “reducing” us to the physiological processes of a not-very-attractive three-pound organ. But what an organ! In its staggering complexity, its explosive combinatorial computation, and its limitless ability to imagine real and hypothetical worlds, the brain, truly, is wider than the sky. The poem itself proves it. Simply to understand the comparison in each verse, the brain of the reader must contain the sky and absorb the sea and visualize each one at the same scale as the brain itself.

The enigmatic final verse, with its startling image of God and the brain being hefted like cabbages, has puzzled readers since the poem was published. Some read it as creationism (God made the brain), others as atheism (the brain thought up God). The simile with phonology — sound is a seamless continuum, a syllable is a demarcated unit of it — suggests a kind of pantheism: God is everywhere and nowhere, and every brain incarnates a finite measure of divinity. The loophole “if they do” suggests mysticism — the brain and God may somehow be the same thing — and, of course, agnosticism. The ambiguity is surely intentional, and I doubt that anyone could defend a single interpretation as the correct one.

I like to read the verse as suggesting that the mind, in contemplating its place in the cosmos, at some point reaches its own limitations and runs into puzzles that seem to belong in a separate, divine realm. Free will and subjective experience, for example, are alien to our concept of causation and feel like a divine spark inside us. Morality and meaning seem to inhere in a reality that exists independent of our judgments. But that separateness may be the illusion of a brain that makes it impossible for us not to think they are separate from us. Ultimately we have no way of knowing, because we are our brains and have no way of stepping outside them to check. But if we are thereby trapped, it is a trap that we can hardly bemoan, for it is wider than the sky, deeper than the sea, and perhaps as weighty as God.

~

Kurt Vonnegut's story “Harrison Bergeron” is as transparent as Dickinson's poem is cryptic. Here is how it begins:

The year was 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren't only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else. All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and to the unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General.³  {425} 

The Handicapper General enforces equality by neutralizing any inherited (hence undeserved) asset. Intelligent people have to wear radios in their ears tuned to a government transmitter that sends out a sharp noise every twenty seconds (such as the sound of a milk bottle struck with a ball-peen hammer) to prevent them from taking unfair advantage of their brains. Ballerinas are laden with bags of birdshot and their faces are hidden by masks so that no one can feel bad at seeing someone prettier or more graceful than they. Newscasters are selected for their speech impediments. The hero of the story is a multiply gifted teenager forced to wear headphones, thick wavy glasses, three hundred pounds of scrap iron, and black caps on half his teeth. The story is about his ill-fated rebellion.

Subtle it is not, but “Harrison Bergeron” is a witty reductio of an all too common fallacy. The ideal of political equality is not a guarantee that people are innately indistinguishable. It is a policy to treat people in certain spheres (justice, education, politics) on the basis of their individual merits rather than the statistics of any group they belong to. And it is a policy to recognize inalienable rights in all people by virtue of the fact that they are sentient human beings. Policies that insist that people be identical in their outcomes must impose costs on humans who, like all living things, vary in their biological endowment. Since talents by definition are rare, and can be fully realized only in rare circumstances, it is easier to achieve forced equality by lowering the top (and thereby depriving everyone of the fruits of people's talents) than by raising the bottom. In Vonnegut's America of 2081 the desire for equality of outcome is played out as a farce, but in the twentieth century it frequently led to real crimes against humanity, and in our own society the entire issue is often a taboo.

Vonnegut is a beloved author who has never been called a racist, sexist, elitist, or Social Darwinist. Imagine the reaction if he had stated his message in declarative sentences rather than in a satirical story. Every generation has its designated jokers, from Shakespearean fools to Lenny Bruce, who give voice to truths that are unmentionable in polite society. Today part-time humorists like Vonnegut, and full-time ones like Richard Pryor, Dave Barry, and the writers of The Onion, are continuing that tradition.

~

Vonnegut's dystopian fantasy was played out as a story-length farce, but the most famous of such fantasies was played out as a novel-length nightmare. George Orwell's 1984 is a vivid depiction of what life would look like if the repressive strands of society and government were extrapolated into the future. In the half-century since the novel was published, many developments have been condemned because of their associations to Orwell's world: government euphemism, national identity cards, surveillance cameras, personal data on the Internet, and even, in the first television commercial for the  {426}  Macintosh computer, the IBM PC. No other work of fiction has had such an impact on people's opinions of real-world issues.

Nineteen Eighty-four was unforgettable literature, not just a political screed, because of the way Orwell thought through the details of how his society would work. Every component of the nightmare interlocked with the others to form a rich and credible whole: the omnipresent government, the eternal war with shifting enemies, the totalitarian control of the media and private life, the Newspeak language, the constant threat of personal betrayal.

Less widely known is that the regime had a well-articulated philosophy. It is explained to Winston Smith in the harrowing sequence in which he is strapped to a table and alternately tortured and lectured by the government agent O'Brien. The philosophy of the regime is thoroughly postmodernist, O'Brien explains (without, of course, using the word). When Winston objects that the Party cannot realize its slogan, “Who controls the past controls the future; who controls the present controls the past,” O'Brien replies:

You believe that reality is something objective, external, existing in its own right. You also believe that the nature of reality is self-evident. When you delude yourself into thinking that you see something, you assume that everyone else sees the same thing as you. But I tell you, Winston, that reality is not external. Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else. Not in the individual mind, which can make mistakes, and in any case soon perishes; only in the mind of the Party, which is collective and immortal.⁴

O'Brien admits that for certain purposes, such as navigating the ocean, it is useful to assume that the Earth goes around the sun and that there are stars in distant galaxies. But, he continues, the Party could also use alternative astronomies in which the sun goes around the Earth and the stars are bits of fire a few kilometers away. And though O'Brien does not explain it in this scene, Newspeak is the ultimate “prisonhouse of language,” a “language that thinks man and his ‘world.'”

O'Brien's lecture should give pause to the advocates of postmodernism. It is ironic that a philosophy that prides itself on deconstructing the accoutrements of power should embrace a relativism that makes challenges to power impossible, because it denies that there are objective benchmarks against which the deceptions of the powerful can be evaluated. For the same reason, the passages should give pause to radical scientists who insist that other scientists’ aspirations to theories with objective reality (including theories about human nature) are really weapons to preserve the interests of the dominant class, gender, and race.⁵ Without a notion of objective truth,  {427}  intellectual life degenerates into a struggle of who can best exercise the raw force to “control the past.”

A second precept of the Party's philosophy is the doctrine of the super-organism:

Can you not understand, Winston, that the individual is only a cell? The weariness of the cell is the vigor of the organism. Do you die when you cut your fingernails?⁶

The doctrine that a collectivity (a culture, a society, a class, a gender) is a living thing with its own interests and belief system lies behind Marxist political philosophies and the social science tradition begun by Durkheim. Orwell is showing its dark side: the dismissal of the individual — the only entity that literally feels pleasure and pain — as a mere component that exists to further the interests of the whole. The sedition of Winston and his lover Julia began in the pursuit of simple human pleasures — sugar and coffee, white writing paper, private conversation, affectionate lovemaking. O'Brien makes it clear that such individualism will not be tolerated: “There will be no loyalty, except loyalty to the Party. There will be no love, except the love of Big Brother.”⁷

The Party also believes that emotional ties to family and friends are “habits” that get in the way of a smoothly functioning society:

Already we are breaking down the habits of thought that have survived from before the Revolution. We have cut the links between child and parent, and between man and man, and between man and woman. No one dares trust a wife or a child or a friend any longer. But in the future there will be no wives and no friends. Children will be taken from their mothers at birth, as one takes eggs from a hen. The sex instinct will be eradicated.... There will be no distinction between beauty and ugliness.⁸

It is hard to read the passage and not think of the current enthusiasm for proposals in which enlightened mandarins would reengineer childrearing, the arts, and the relationship between the sexes in an effort to build a better society.

Dystopian novels, of course, work by grotesque exaggeration. Any idea can be made to look terrifying in caricature, even if it is reasonable in moderation. I do not mean to imply that a concern with the interests of society or in improving human relationships is a step toward totalitarianism. But satire can show how popular ideologies may have forgotten downsides — in this case, how the notion that language, thought, and emotions are social conventions  {428}  creates an opening for social engineers to try to reform them. Once we become aware of the downsides, we no longer have to treat the ideologies as sacred cows to which factual discoveries must be subordinated.

And finally we get to the core of the Party's philosophy. O'Brien has refuted every one of Winston's arguments, dashed every one of his hopes. He has informed him, “If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face — forever.” Toward the end of this dialogue, O'Brien reveals the proposition that makes the whole nightmare possible (and whose falsehood, we may surmise, will make it impossible).

As usual, the voice had battered Winston into helplessness. Moreover he was in dread that if he persisted in his disagreement O'Brien would twist the dial again. And yet he could not keep silent. Feebly, without arguments, with nothing to support him except his inarticulate horror of what O'Brien had said, he returned to the attack.

“I don't know — I don't care. Somehow you will fail. Something will defeat you. Life will defeat you.”

“We control life, Winston, at all its levels. You are imagining that there is something called human nature which will be outraged by what we do and will turn against us. But we create human nature. Men are infinitely malleable.”⁹

~

The three works I have discussed are didactic and unanchored in any existing time and place. The remaining two are different. Both are rooted in a culture, a locale, and an era. Both savor their characters’ language, milieu, and philosophies of life. And both authors warned their readers not to generalize from the stories. Yet both authors are famous for their insight into human nature, and I believe I am doing them no injustice by presenting episodes from their works in that light.

Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is an especially perilous source for lessons because it begins with the following order of the author: “Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.” That has not deterred a century of critics from noting its dual power. Huckleberry Finn shows us both the foibles of the antebellum South and the foibles of human nature, as seen through the eyes of two noble savages who sample them as they float down the Mississippi River.

Huckleberry Finn revels in many human imperfections, but perhaps the most tragicomic is the origin of violence in a culture of honor. The culture of honor is really a psychology of honor: a package of emotions that includes a loyalty to kin, a hunger for revenge, and a drive to maintain a reputation for toughness and valor. When sparked by other human sins — envy, lust, self-deception  {429}  — they can fuel a vicious cycle of violence, as each side finds itself unable to abjure revenge against the other. The cycle can become amplified in certain places, among them the American South.

Huck met up with the culture of honor on two occasions in quick succession. The first was when he stowed away on a barge manned by a “rough-looking lot” of hard-drinking men. After one of them was about to belt out the fifteenth verse of a raunchy song, an altercation of relatively trivial origin broke out, and two men squared off to fight.

[Bob, the biggest man on the boat] jumped up in the air and cracked his heels together again and shouted out: “Whoo-oop! I'm the original iron-jawed, brass-mounted, copper-bellied corpse-maker from the wilds of Arkansaw! Look at me! I'm the man they call Sudden Death and General Desolation! Sired by a hurricane, dam'd by an earthquake, half-brother to the cholera, nearly related to the smallpox on the mother's side! Look at me! I take nineteen alligators and a bar'l of whisky for breakfast when I'm in robust health, and a bushel of rattlesnakes and a dead body when I'm ailing. I split the everlasting rocks with my glance, and I squench the thunder when I speak! Whoo-oop! Stand back and give me room according to my strength! Blood's my natural drink and the wails of the dying is music to my ear. Cast your eye on me, gentlemen! and lay low and hold your breath, for I'm ‘bout to turn myself loose!"...

Then the man that had started the row... jumped up and cracked his heels together three times before he lit again ..., and he began to shout like this: “Whoo-oop! bow your neck and spread, for the kingdom of sorrow's a coming! Hold me down to the earth, for I feel my powers a-working!... I put my hand on the sun's face and make it night in the earth; I bite a piece out of the moon and hurry the seasons; I shake myself and crumble the mountains! Contemplate me through leather — don't use the naked eye! I'm the man with a petrified heart and biler-iron bowels! The massacre of isolated communities is the pastime of my idle moments, the destruction of nationalities the serious business of my life! The boundless vastness of the great American desert is my inclosed property, and I bury the dead on my own premises! ... Whoo-oop! bow your neck and spread, for the Pet Child of Calamity's a'coming!”¹⁰

They circled and flailed at each other and knocked each other's hats off, until Bob said, as Huck describes it,

... never mind, this warn't going to be the last of this thing, because he was a man that never forgot and never forgive, and so The Child better  {429}  look out for there was a time a-coming, just as sure as he was a living man, that he would have to answer to him with the best blood in his body. The Child said no man was willinger than he for that time to come, and he would give Bob fair warning, now, never to cross his path again, for he could never rest till he had waded in his blood, for such was his nature, though he was sparing him now on account of his family, if he had one.¹¹

And then a “little black-whiskered chap” sent them both sprawling. With black eyes and red noses, they shook hands, said they had always respected each other, and agreed to let bygones be bygones.

Later in the chapter Huck swims ashore and stumbles onto the cabin of a family called the Grangerfords. Huck is frozen in his tracks by menacing dogs, until a voice from the window beckons him to enter the cabin slowly. He opens the door and finds himself staring down the barrels of three shotguns. When the Grangerfords see that Huck is not a Shepherdson, the family with whom they are feuding, they welcome him to live with them. Huck is captivated by their genteel life: their lovely furnishings, their elegant dress, and their refined manners, especially the patriarch, Col. Grangerford. “He was a gentleman all over, and so was his family. He was well born, as the saying is, and that's worth as much in a man as it is in a horse.”

Three of the six Grangerford sons had been killed in the feud, and the youngest survivor, Buck, has befriended Huck. When the two boys go for a walk and Buck shoots at a Shepherdson boy, Huck asks why he wants to kill someone who has done nothing to hurt him. Buck explains the concept of a feud:

“Well,” says Buck, “a feud is this way: A man has a quarrel with another man, and kills him; then that other man's brother kills him; then the other brothers on both sides goes for one another; then the cousins chip in — and by and by everybody's killed off and there ain't no more feud. But it's kind of slow and takes a long time.”

“Has this one been going on long, Buck?”

“Well, I should reckon! It started thirty years ago, or som'ers along there. There was trouble ‘bout something and then a lawsuit to settle it, and the suit went agin one of the men and so he up and shot the man that won the suit — which he would naturally do, of course. Anybody would.”

“What was the trouble about, Buck? — land?”

“I reckon maybe — I don't know.”

“Well, who done the shooting? Was it a Grangerford or a Shepherdson?”  {431} 

“Laws, how do I know? It was so long ago.” “Don't anybody know?”

“Oh, yes, pa knows, I reckon, and some of the other old people; but they don't know now what the row was about in the first place.”¹²

Buck adds that the feud is carried along by the two families’ sense of honor: “There ain't a coward amongst them Shepherdsons — not a one. And there ain't no cowards amongst the Grangerfords either.”¹³ The reader anticipates trouble, and it comes soon enough. A Grangerford girl runs off with a Shepherdson boy, the Grangerfords head off in hot pursuit, and all the Grangerford males are killed in an ambush. “I ain't a'going to tell all that happened,” says Huck; “it would make me sick again if I was to do that. I wished I hadn't ever come ashore that night to see such things.”¹⁴

In the course of the chapter Huck has met up with two instances of the Southern culture of honor. Among the low-lifes it amounted to hollow bluster and was played for laughs; among the aristocrats it led to the devastation of two families and played out as tragedy. I think Twain was commenting on the twisted logic of violence and how it cuts across our stereotypes of refined and coarse classes of people. Indeed, the moral reckoning does not just cut across the classes but inverts them: the riffraff resolve their pointless dispute with face-saving verbiage; the gentlemen pursue their equally pointless one to a dreadful conclusion.

Though thoroughly Southern, the perverse psychology of the Grangerford-Shepherdson feud is familiar from the history and ethnography of just about any region of the world. (In particular, Huck's introduction to the Grangerfords was hilariously replayed in Napoleon Chagnon's famous account of his baptism into anthropological fieldwork, in which he stumbled into a feuding Yanomamö village and found himself trapped by dogs and staring down the shafts of poison arrows.) And it is familiar in the cycles of violence that continue to be played out by gangs, militias, ethnic groups, and respectable nation-states. Twain's depiction of the origins of endemic violence in an entrapping psychology of honor has a timelessness that will, I predict, make it outlast fashionable theories of the causes and cures of violence.

~

The final theme I wish to reprise is that the human tragedy lies in the partial conflicts of interest that are inherent to all human relationships. I suppose I could illustrate it with just about any great work of fiction. An immortal literary text expresses “all the principal constants of conflict in the condition of man,” wrote George Steiner about Antigone; “Ordinary people experiencing friction on the page is what warms our hands and hearts as we write,” observed John Updike. But one novel caught my eye by flaunting the idea in its title: Isaac Bashevis Singer's Enemies, A Love Story.¹⁵  {432} 

Singer, like Twain, protests too much against the possibility that his readers might draw morals from the slice of life he presents. “Although I did not have the privilege of going through the Hitler holocaust, I have lived for years in New York with refugees from this ordeal. I therefore hasten to say that this novel is by no means the story of the typical refugee, his life, and struggle.... The characters are not only Nazi victims but victims of their own personalities and fates.” In literature the exception is the rule, Singer writes, but only after noting that the exception is rooted in the rule. Singer has been praised as a keen observer of human nature, not least because he imagines what happens when fate puts ordinary characters in extraordinary dilemmas. This is the conceit behind his book and the superb 1989 film adaptation, directed by Paul Mazursky and featuring Anjelica Huston and Ron Silver.

Herman Broder lives in Brooklyn in 1949 with his second wife, Yadwiga, a peasant girl who worked for his parents as a servant when they lived in Poland. A decade earlier his first wife, Tamara, had taken their two children to visit her parents, and while they were separated the Nazis invaded Poland. Tamara and the children were shot; Herman survived because Yadwiga hid him in her family's hayloft. At the end of the war he learned of his family's fate and married Yadwiga, and they found their way to New York.

While in the refugee camps, Herman had fallen in love with Masha, whom he meets again in New York and with whom he carries on a consuming affair (later in the book he will marry her, too). Yadwiga and Masha are, in part, male fantasies: the first pure but simple, the second ravishing but histrionic. Herman's conscience prevents him from leaving Yadwiga; his passion prevents him from leaving Masha. This brings much misery all around, but Singer does not let us hate Herman too much because we see how the capricious horror of the Holocaust has left him a fatalist with no confidence that his decisions can affect the course of his life. Moreover, Herman is amply punished for his duplicity by a life of high anxiety, which Singer portrays with comic, at times sadistic, relish.

The cruel joke continues when Herman learns that he has even more of too much of a good thing. It turns out that his first wife survived the Nazi bullet and escaped to Russia; she has moved to New York and is staying with her pious elderly uncle and aunt. Every Jew in the postwar period knows of emotional reunions of the survivors of Holocaust-ravaged families, but the reunion of a husband and a wife whom he had given up for dead is a scene of almost unimaginable poignancy. Herman enters the apartment of Reb Abraham:

Abraham: A miracle from heaven, Broder, a miracle ... Your wife has returned.

[Abraham leaves. Tamara enters.]

tamara: Hello, Herman.  {433} 

Herman: I didn't know that you were alive.

tamara: That's something you never knew.

Herman: It's as if you've risen from the dead.

tamara: We were dumped in an open pit. They thought we were all dead. But I crawled over some corpses and escaped at night. How is it my uncle didn't know where you were — we had to put an advertisement in the paper?

Herman: I don't have my own apartment. I live with someone else.

tamara: What do you do? Where do you live?

Herman: I didn't know you were alive and —

tamara [smiles]: Who is the lucky woman who has taken my place?

Herman [stunned; then replies]: She was our servant. You knew her ... Yadwiga.

tamara [about to laugh]: You married her? Forgive me, but wasn't she simple-minded? She didn't even know how to put on a pair of shoes. I remember your mother telling me how she tried to put the left shoe on the right foot. If she was given money to buy something, she would lose it.

Herman: She saved my life.

tamara: Was there no other way to repay her? Well, I'd better not ask. Do you have any children by her?

Herman: No.

tamara: It wouldn't shock me if you did. I assumed you crawled into bed with her even when you were with me.

Herman: That's nonsense. I never crawled into bed with her —

tamara: Oh, really. Well we never really did have a marriage. All we ever did was argue. You never had any respect for me, for my ideas —

Herman: That's not true. You know that —

Abraham [enters the room, addresses Herman]: You may stay with us until you find an apartment. Hospitality is an act of charity, and besides, you are relatives. As the Holy Book says, “And thou shalt not hide thyself from thine own flesh.”

tamara [interrupting]: Uncle, he has another wife.¹⁶

Yes, within seconds of the miraculous reunion they are bickering, picking up from where they left off when they were separated a decade before. What a wealth of psychology is folded into that scene! Men's inclination to polygamy and the frustrations it inevitably brings. Women's keener social intelligence and their preference for verbal over physical aggression against romantic rivals. The stability of personality over the lifespan. The way that social behavior is elicited by the specifics of a situation, especially the specifics of other  {434}  people, so that two people play out the same dynamic whenever they are together.

Though it is a scene of considerable sadness, it has a streak of sly humor, as we watch these pathetic souls forgo their chance to savor a moment of rare good fortune and slip instead into petty quarreling. And Singer's biggest joke is on us. Dramatic conventions, and a belief in cosmic justice, lead us to expect that suffering has ennobled these characters and that we are about to witness a scene of great drama and pathos. Instead we are shown what we ought to have expected all along: real human beings with all their follies. Nor is the episode a display of cynicism or misanthropy: we are not surprised when later in the story Herman and Tamara share moments of tenderness, or that a wise Tamara will offer him his only chance at redemption. It is a scene that has the voice of the species in it: that infuriating, endearing, mysterious, predictable, and eternally fascinating thing we call human nature.

APPENDIX

Donald E. Brown's List of Human Universals

This list, compiled in 1989 and published in 1991, consists primarily of “surface” universals of behavior and overt language noted by ethnographers. It does not list deeper universals of mental structure that are revealed by theory and experiments. It also omits near-universals (traits that most, but not all, cultures show) and conditional universals (“If a culture has trait A, it always has trait B”). A list of items added since 1989 is provided at the end. For discussion and references, see Brown's Human Universals (1991) and his entry for “Human Universals” in The MIT Encyclopedia of the Cognitive Sciences (Wilson & Keil, 1999).

abstraction in speech and thought

actions under self-control distinguished from those not under control

aesthetics

affection expressed and felt

age grades

age statuses

age terms

ambivalence

anthropomorphization

antonyms

baby talk

belief in supernatural religion

beliefs, false

beliefs about death

beliefs about disease

beliefs about fortune and misfortune

binary cognitive distinctions

biological mother and social mother normally the same person

black (color term)

body adornment

childbirth customs

childcare

childhood fears

childhood fear of loud noises

childhood fear of strangers

choice making (choosing alternatives)

classification

classification of age

classification of behavioral propensities

classification of body parts

classification of colors

classification of fauna

classification of flora

classification of inner states

classification of kin

classification of sex

classification of space

classification of tools

classification of weather

conditions coalitions

collective identities

conflict  {436} 

conflict, consultation to deal with

conflict, means of dealing with

conflict, mediation of

conjectural reasoning

containers

continua (ordering as cognitive pattern)

contrasting marked and nonmarked sememes (meaningful elements in language)

cooking

cooperation

cooperative labor

copulation normally conducted in privacy

corporate (perpetual) statuses

coyness display

crying

cultural variability

culture

culture/nature distinction

customary greetings

daily routines

dance

death rituals

decision making

decision making, collective

directions, giving of

discrepancies between speech, thought, and action

dispersed groups

distinguishing right and wrong

diurnality

divination

division of labor

division of labor by age

division of labor by sex

dreams

dream interpretation

economic inequalities

economic inequalities, consciousness of

emotions

empathy

entification (treating patterns and relations as things)

environment, adjustments to

envy

envy, symbolic means of coping with

ethnocentrism

etiquette

explanation

face (word for)

facial communication

facial expression of anger

facial expression of contempt

facial expression of disgust

facial expression of fear

facial expression of happiness

facial expression of sadness

facial expression of surprise

facial expressions, masking/modifying of

family (or household)

father and mother, separate kin terms for

fears

fears, ability to overcome some

feasting

females do more direct childcare

figurative speech

fire

folklore

food preferences

food sharing

future, attempts to predict

generosity admired

gestures

gift giving

good and bad distinguished

gossip

government

grammar

group living

groups that are not based on family

hairstyles

hand (word for)

healing the sick (or attempting to)

hospitality

hygienic care

identity, collective

incest between mother and son unthinkable or tabooed

incest, prevention or avoidance

in-group distinguished from out-group(s)

in-group, biases in favor of

inheritance rules

insulting

intention

interest in bioforms (living things or things that resemble them)

interpreting behavior

intertwining (e.g., weaving)

jokes

kin, close distinguished from distant

kin groups

kin terms translatable by basic relations of procreation

kinship statuses

language  {437} 

language employed to manipulate others

language employed to misinform or mislead

language is translatable

language not a simple reflection of reality

language, prestige from proficient use of

law (rights and obligations)

law (rules of membership)

leaders

lever

linguistic redundancy

logical notions

logical notion of “and”

logical notion of “equivalent”

logical notion of “general/particular”

logical notion of “not”

logical notion of “opposite”

logical notion of “part/whole”

logical notion of “same”

magic

magic to increase life

magic to sustain life

magic to win love

male and female and adult and child seen as having different natures

males dominate public/political realm

males more aggressive

males more prone to lethal violence

males more prone to theft

manipulate social relations

marking at phonemic, syntactic, and lexical levels

marriage

materialism

meal times

meaning, most units of are non-universal

measuring

medicine

melody

memory

metaphor

metonym

mood- or consciousness-altering techniques and/or substances

morphemes

mother normally has consort during child-rearing years

mourning

murder proscribed

music

music, children's

music related in part to dance

music related in part to religious activity

music seen as art (a creation)

music, vocal

music, vocal, includes speech forms

musical redundancy

musical repetition

musical variation

myths

narrative

nomenclature (perhaps the same as classification)

nonbodily decorative art

normal distinguished from abnormal states

nouns

numerals (counting)

Oedipus complex

oligarchy (de facto)

one (numeral)

onomatopoeia

overestimating objectivity of thought

pain

past/present/future

person, concept of

personal names

phonemes

phonemes defined by sets of minimally contrasting features

phonemes, merging of

phonemes, range from 10 to 70 in number

phonemic change, inevitability of

phonemic change, rules of

phonemic system

planning

planning for future

play

play to perfect skills

poetry/rhetoric

poetic line, uniform length range

poetic lines characterized by repetition and variation