What do you think?
Rate this book


468 pages, Hardcover
First published April 16, 2019
"Wolves don’t dispatch members of outside packs with the quick chomp to the neck they employ to take down elk. While visiting the wolf researchers based at Yellowstone, I learned that a pack had just killed an old female and her companion from another pack. Both died from abdomen and chest bites apparently inflicted over many hours.____________________
The viciousness of chimps and wolves toward foreign animals can exceed what they employ to bring down prey or kill rivals within their own community."
"Chimpanzees need to know everybody.
Ants need to know nobody.
Humans only need to know somebody."
"DYING FOR A FLAG: Humans follow a flag like an experimentally imprinted duckling, a ball,” says Irenäus Eibl-Eibesfeldt, a pioneer in studying human action through the lens of how animals behave.
Evidence suggests that learning markers and using them to categorize people, places, and things is instinctive—organized in advance of experience.
Even though the inspiring stories we share like the raising of the American flag at Iwo Jima add to the meaningfulness and importance of markers, knowing those meanings isn’t imperative for us to be aroused by anything that acts as a potent marker. Nor does such a signal need to be connected with a person to set off an impassioned reaction: either its presence (a stirring anthem) or its absence (imagine a town where Americans shoot bald eagles) engages the limbic system, the brain’s emotional center. Those circuits can go off like a firestorm when a powerful marker is evoked—an act of violence becomes all the more horrendous when it also involves the destruction of a national monument.
Given the right onlooker and context, even the simplest object or word is enough for a strong emotional response. As an example, picture an equilateral cross with arms hooked at ninety-degree
angles. Seeing this apparently banal design can put a Holocaust survivor into a faint. Yet pausing to think about the symbolic implications of the swastika isn’t required for the horror it may cause. Once an anguished response is set by a kind of Pavlovian conditioning, casting it aside is no more possible than stopping our gag reflex at outlandish ethnic food: take a moment to visualize walking cheese, once popular in Corsica, wriggling under maggot-power. Even so, at the time they were in widespread use, swastikas made Nazi hearts swell with the same rapture we expect to experience when we stand before our national flag at the ball game.
People do love a flag. Today, even “mild-mannered Danes go nuts over their national colors,” says historian Arnaldo Testi. Indeed, he goes on, “in democratic, secular republics, the flag acquires an even greater, near-sacred, civic importance, if anything, in the absence of other public binding icons, like king or God.” This mania ties to our most essential groups: to fight or die for the flag is a personal pleasure and honor.
How a mere color pattern, shape, or sound can precipitate fervor or fear in the human brain is poorly understood.
The response emerges in childhood, and no wonder. In the United States, flags are displayed in classrooms, and the Pledge of Allegiance is often recited in preschools (though children can now opt out). By six years old, a child perceives flag burning as bad; pride in country comes soon after.
The omnipresence of signs of national identity accords everyone a similarity of experience that primes our feelings even when our minds are elsewhere.
Faced with adversity, symbols turn into beacons that galvanize us to action. A recording of the national anthem became a hit single in 1990 after the United States committed to the Gulf War; American flag sales exploded in 2001 the day after the 9/11 attacks."
"...By contrast, starting at the age of three, people see their society, and their race or ethnicity, as essential and inalterable features of identity, fixed permanently by an essence, the way species are.
More so than many betrothals, a national or ethnicity identity stays with us till death do us part. For us, they are, in a word, natural.
On this basis the single human species is splintered into many. Outsiders—the people of other societies, and nowadays other ethnicities and races—are treated as if they were distinct creatures. Their markers are passed on to their offspring as dependably as the traits distinguishing a swan from a duck, so that their memberships persist through time."
"Popular science fiction tales like The War of the Worlds depict all of humankind pulling together against a common enemy. Yet our societies will endure even this. Space aliens wouldn’t make nations irrelevant any more than Europeans arriving in Australia caused Aborigines to dispense with their tribes. That would be so regardless of how much the aliens shattered the beliefs people held about their own societies, whose beloved differences would now look trivial by comparison. Moreover, when societies of our species turn to one another, whether for commercial advantage or to defend against aliens, that reliance doesn’t diminish the weight they place on their differences. The notion of cosmopolitanism, the idea that the people of the world will come to feel a primary connection to the human race, is a pipe dream."
"...Here I distill these down to a few essential conclusions. The most fundamental of these is that societies are not solely a human invention. Most organisms lack the closed groups we call societies, but in the species that do have them, societies serve in diverse ways to provide for and protect the members. In all such animals, individuals must recognize each other as belonging to the same group. This membership can offer advantages regardless of whether or not those members cooperate or have any other social or biological relationship.
While societies are not unique to humans, they are necessary to the human condition, having existed since ancient prehumans diverged on the evolutionary tree from other apes. A million human societies may well have come and gone. Every one has been a group closed to outsiders, a group that its members were willing to fight for and that at times they died for. Each commanded intense commitments from its members extending from birth to death and through the generations. Until recent millennia, all of those societies were small communities of hunter-gatherers, but that didn’t mean their attachments to their societies were any weaker than ours today.
In the societies of our prehuman ancestors, as in those of most other mammals, the members had to recognize each other individually to function as a group. The resulting constraint on memory put an upper limit of roughly 200 on the size of societies in most animals. At some point in our evolution, probably before the origins of Homo sapiens, humans broke this glass ceiling by forming anonymous societies. Such societies, found in humans and a few other animals—notably ants and most other social insects—can potentially attain vast sizes because the members no longer must remember each other personally. Instead, they rely on identifying markers to accept both individuals they know and strangers who fit their expectations. Scents serve as markers in the insects, but humans go broader. For us, markers range from accents and gestures to styles of dress, rituals, and flags.
Markers are essential components in all societies of more than a few hundred individuals, whether mighty human or mere insect. At a certain point of growth, however, markers alone are insufficient to hold a society of humans together. Large human populations depend on an interplay between the markers and an acceptance of social control and leadership, along with increasing commitments to specializations, such as jobs and social groups. In early humans, new societies were born in a two-step process that has its parallels in other vertebrates. The process begins, usually very gradually, with the formation of subgroups within a society, brought on by divergences in identity. Years later, those identities diverge to such an extent that they become incompatible. The factions then separate to permanently form distinct societies.
The ability to accept strangers born in the same society as fellow members does not on its own account for the enormous growth of human societies. What made such vast expansions possible was the acquisition of people from other societies. Outsiders had to make accommodations to the expected identity to be accepted as part of the society. The addition of foreigners in numbers, initially by force through slavery and subjugation and more recently by immigration, generated the mixtures of ethnicities and races found within societies today. The relationships between these groups retain the imprint of differences in power and control that in some cases extend back to before recorded history.
The differentiation of identities among society members continues to be a source of disruption. However, rather than dividing in the manner of hunter-gatherer groups, today’s societies more often fragment along geographical fault lines that roughly reflect the claimed ancestral homelands of the ethnic groups that have come to live within them.
The need for societies, by its very ancientness, has shaped all aspects of human experience. Most notably, relationships between societies have profoundly influenced the evolution of the human mind, which would in turn affect the interactions among the ethnic and racial groups that emerged later in our history. While we may not be operating out of pure ignorance of outsiders the way early humans often did, automatic responses reflect our proneness to harbor stereotypes about different groups and about the superiority of our own group. The psychology underlying our identification with societies and ethnicities is registered in our every action. Our reaction to each person we see, how we vote, and whether we approve of our country’s decision to go to war have all been shaped by processes deeply embedded in our biology. The buzzing confusion of modernity may simply exacerbate our reactions.
Even as we face this deluge of social interactions as individuals, our nations grow ever more interdependent. Yet we are who we are, and so our societies still put inordinate effort into jockeying for territory, resources, and power, just as societies of animals have always done. We attack. We cajole. We blame. We abuse. We insulate ourselves from foreign powers we don’t trust by partnering with those we do. Such alliances, unique to humankind, may save us. Nevertheless, they can bring further uncertainty and destruction, angering or striking fear into those who have been left out."
My goal is to show that membership in a society is as essential for our well-being as finding a mate or loving a child....
The evidence presented in this book points to societies being a human universal. Human ancestors lived in fission-fusion groups that evolved, by simple steps, from individual recognition societies to societies set apart by markers. The ingroup-outgroup boundaries of society membership would have made it through this transition unaltered. That means that humans have always had societies. There was no original, "authentic" human society, no time when people and families lived in an open social network before deciding to set themselves apart into well-defined groups. Being in a society - indeed, multiple, contrasting societies - is more indispensable and ancient than faith or matrimony, having been the way of things from before we were human. (p. 13, 353)