Authors Narvaez (a past professor of psychology at Notre Dame) and Bradshaw (who holds one PhD in psychology and another in ecology) believe humanity has lost is way. Around 10,000 years ago, they say, human cultures in several regions of the world shifted, maybe because of population pressures or changes in climate. Some societies broke from the “gift economy” of Nature [authors’ capitalization] and began to “enslave” Plants and Animals [authors’ capitalization again]. The other living things on the planet were no longer thought of as kin but as commodities over which humans had dominion. Increasingly divorced from their evolutionary ways, Homo sapiens eventually pushed the world into the “Capitalocene” era, characterized by pollution, climate disasters, the destruction of the natural world, and the erasure of indigenous cultures living in the greatest harmony with it. The dominant (Western) culture adopted a trauma-inducing lifestyle, which it continues to foist on others. The effect on humans overall? Stress, disconnection, and alienation. Gabor Mate wrote the introduction for The Evolved Nest and mentioned Narvaez’s ideas a few times in his recently published The Myth of Normal, a work I wasn’t overly keen on.
In their impassioned and very serious book, Narvaez and Bradshaw call for a future that’s “informed and reinvigorated by what the past and everlasting Nature can teach us.” As the title indicates, central to the text is the idea of “evolved nests”—the “developmental systems tailored to nurture psychological, social, physical, and neurobiological needs in a species-unique manner.” Each chapter begins with a short lyrical passage about a social animal species—its name always capitalized, like a tribe’s, to show respect and acknowledge the animal’s significance. This is followed by an encyclopedia-like entry of facts about the species, with a focus on something of critical importance in the animal’s early upbringing that may also pertain to the core developmental needs of human infants or at least serve as a springboard to the discussion of a particular psychological requirement of very young children. The authors write that the first years of life “lay down fundamental trajectories of who and how the child will be in the future.” What happens in early childhood largely determines both physical and mental health. Narvaez and Bradshaw then go on to present, sometimes in fairly dry technical terms, what they see as the scientific evidence for their thinking. I sometimes found this information limited, vague, or unconvincing. For example, they indicate that sleep training of human infants leads to poor mental health later.
The first animal Narvaez and Bradshaw consider is the brown bear, which, like humans, is an “altricial” species: it depends on intense postnatal care. This leads the authors to a discussion of attuned, synchronous human parenting, epigenetics (the influence of the environment on the expression of genes), and the development of three sensory systems (proprioception/interoception; exteroception; and alteroceptivity). I mention these terms, so you get a sense of the kind of language you’re in for should you choose to read this book, but I’ll leave it to you to seek clarification if so interested. The authors do a pretty good job of explaining, but I’ll admit I found their discussions rather hard going and academic at times. I would’ve liked the occasional illustrative example.
Which brings me to my next point: who is the intended audience? Academics? Parents? Pediatricians? Family doctors? Those interested in ethology? Developmental psychology enthusiasts? As mentioned, there’s a lot of jargon here, and the book fairly overwhelms the reader with facts and footnotes. It’s also deadly serious, not a breath of humour.
Yes, I learned some things. I was sceptical of others. At times, I found the material thought-provoking. More often, though, I experienced the book as a grind. As far as page count goes, it’s not a long book, but it felt like it was. I don’t think further editorial winnowing would’ve hurt if the goal was to reach a general audience. In the end, I think those who liked Maté’s recent book will likely appreciate this book more than I did.
Narvaez and Bradshaw are evidently passionate about their subject matter. They evidently want to correct this life out of balance. I just wish their book, like Maté’s before it, wasn’t so dire and joyless to read—for me anyway.