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The Goodness Paradox: How Evolution Made Us Both More and Less Violent
'A fascinating new analysis of human violence, filled with fresh ideas and gripping evidence from our primate cousins, historical forebears, and contemporary neighbors' -- Steven Pinker
'A brilliant analysis of the role of aggression in our evolutionary history' -- Jane Goodall
It may not always seem so, but day-to-day interactions between individual humans are extraordinarily peaceful. That is not to say that we are perfect, just far less violent than most animals, especially our closest relatives, the chimpanzee and their legendarily docile cousins, the Bonobo. Perhaps surprisingly, we rape, maim, and kill many fewer of our neighbours than all other primates and almost all undomesticated animals. But there is one form of violence that humans exceed all other animals in by several degrees: organized proactive violence against other groups of humans. It seems, we are the only animal that goes to war.
In the Goodness Paradox, Richard Wrangham wrestles with this paradox at the heart of human behaviour. Drawing on new research by geneticists, neuroscientists, primatologists, and archaeologists, he shows that what domesticated our species was nothing less than the invention of capital punishment which eliminated the least cooperative and most aggressive among us. But that development is exactly what laid the groundwork for the worst of our atrocities.
401 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 17, 2019
315 people are currently reading
5261 people want to read
About the author
Richard W. Wrangham
14 books168 followersRichard Wrangham (born 1948, PhD, Cambridge University, 1975) is Ruth B. Moore Professor of Biological Anthropology at Harvard University and founded the Kibale Chimpanzee Project in 1987. He has conducted extensive research on primate ecology, nutrition, and social behaviour. He is best known for his work on the evolution of human warfare, described in the book Demonic Males, and on the role of cooking in human evolution, described in the book Catching Fire: How Cooking Made Us Human. Together with Elizabeth Ross, he co-founded the Kasiisi Project in 1997, and serves as a patron of the Great Apes Survival Partnership (GRASP).
Wrangham began his career as a researcher at Jane Goodall's long-term common chimpanzee field study in Gombe Stream National Park in Tanzania. He befriended fellow primatologist Dian Fossey and assisted her in setting up her nonprofit mountain gorilla conservation organization, the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund (originally the Digit Fund)
Wrangham's latest work focuses on the role cooking has played in human evolution. He has argued that cooking food is obligatory for humans as a result of biological adaptations and that cooking, in particular, the consumption of cooked tubers, might explain the increase in hominid brain sizes, smaller teeth and jaws, and the decrease in sexual dimorphism that occurred roughly 1.8 million years ago.
Wrangham began his career as a researcher at Jane Goodall's long-term common chimpanzee field study in Gombe Stream National Park in Tanzania. He befriended fellow primatologist Dian Fossey and assisted her in setting up her nonprofit mountain gorilla conservation organization, the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund (originally the Digit Fund)
Wrangham's latest work focuses on the role cooking has played in human evolution. He has argued that cooking food is obligatory for humans as a result of biological adaptations and that cooking, in particular, the consumption of cooked tubers, might explain the increase in hominid brain sizes, smaller teeth and jaws, and the decrease in sexual dimorphism that occurred roughly 1.8 million years ago.
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April 25, 2023
This book is worth 4 stars for being well-written and for setting out, in a logical fashion, what was to me a novel argument around the evolution of human behaviour. I’m sure though there are multiple other interpretations in the author’s field of study, and that the debate will never be concluded.
The distinction between reactive and proactive aggression is an important part of this book, the former being lashing out in anger, the latter being pre-planned. As we all know, chimpanzees and bonobos are the nearest biological relatives to humans and the author argues, persuasively, that humans have lower levels of reactive aggression than either species, (especially chimps) but conversely much higher levels of proactive aggression.
The book has a fascinating discussion about the human self-domestication hypothesis. I only first heard of this about 5 years ago when reading Alice Roberts’ book Tamed, but I am really interested in the idea. Domesticated species show a common set of physical and behavioural characteristics termed “the domestication syndrome”. One of these is reduced levels of reactive aggression. It seems to be quite widely accepted that humans display the characteristics of domestication, but no-one domesticated us, so how did this “self-domestication” come about?
In her book, Alice Roberts suggested that it was through sexual selection by females in favour of less aggressive men. Wrangham suggests an alternative he terms “the execution hypothesis”, under which excessively violent males were killed by a coalition of other males. He cites cases of where this was observed amongst hunter-gatherer peoples whose ancient lifestyles survived into the 19th/20th centuries. In evolutionary terms, the effect would have been to select against the genes of the hyper-aggressive males in favour of those from the more peaceable types who only resorted to violence when provoked by a rapist/murderer amongst them.
The killings of the hyper-aggressive, mentioned above as having been observed by visitors, were usually achieved through ambushes or ruses, and almost always involved more than one attacker. The task therefore required planning and co-ordination, in other words, proactive aggression. The development of complex language was vital, allowing humans to co-ordinate their actions far more than other animals. That ability to co-ordinate to enforce rules could of course, be adapted to other circumstances. It’s well-known that small-scale human societies tend to live by a strong enforcement of societal norms, sometimes referred to as “the tyranny of the cousins”. As the author puts it “the bullying of an alpha male was exchanged for the subtler tyranny of the previous underdogs.” In today’s world, we still see a near-universal human tendency to monitor the behaviour of others and to express moral outrage at those who refuse to conform to societal norms.
There are a range of animal species in which adults have been observed to engage in the proactive killing of infants of the same species, but which are not their own. This is to promote their own reproductive chances. The author argues this psychology can again be adapted and channelled towards the killing of adults outside of the individual’s own group. This has been observed in chimpanzees and in wolves, but of course humans take it to a different level.
Despite the length of this review, the above is a very basic summary of the author’s complex arguments. He does though make it clear that he is not a biological determinist. He is looking at the evolutionary basis for how certain behaviours may have developed amongst our ancient ancestors, but that does not mean modern humans have to act in accordance with them. We have consciousness and culture, and are not blindly obedient to our evolutionary urges. He also makes clear that postulating the “execution hypothesis” as a mechanism for past human evolution is in no way an endorsement of capital punishment today.
Some very interesting ideas are explored in this book, particularly around the self-domestication hypothesis. An excellent, thought-provoking read.
The distinction between reactive and proactive aggression is an important part of this book, the former being lashing out in anger, the latter being pre-planned. As we all know, chimpanzees and bonobos are the nearest biological relatives to humans and the author argues, persuasively, that humans have lower levels of reactive aggression than either species, (especially chimps) but conversely much higher levels of proactive aggression.
The book has a fascinating discussion about the human self-domestication hypothesis. I only first heard of this about 5 years ago when reading Alice Roberts’ book Tamed, but I am really interested in the idea. Domesticated species show a common set of physical and behavioural characteristics termed “the domestication syndrome”. One of these is reduced levels of reactive aggression. It seems to be quite widely accepted that humans display the characteristics of domestication, but no-one domesticated us, so how did this “self-domestication” come about?
In her book, Alice Roberts suggested that it was through sexual selection by females in favour of less aggressive men. Wrangham suggests an alternative he terms “the execution hypothesis”, under which excessively violent males were killed by a coalition of other males. He cites cases of where this was observed amongst hunter-gatherer peoples whose ancient lifestyles survived into the 19th/20th centuries. In evolutionary terms, the effect would have been to select against the genes of the hyper-aggressive males in favour of those from the more peaceable types who only resorted to violence when provoked by a rapist/murderer amongst them.
The killings of the hyper-aggressive, mentioned above as having been observed by visitors, were usually achieved through ambushes or ruses, and almost always involved more than one attacker. The task therefore required planning and co-ordination, in other words, proactive aggression. The development of complex language was vital, allowing humans to co-ordinate their actions far more than other animals. That ability to co-ordinate to enforce rules could of course, be adapted to other circumstances. It’s well-known that small-scale human societies tend to live by a strong enforcement of societal norms, sometimes referred to as “the tyranny of the cousins”. As the author puts it “the bullying of an alpha male was exchanged for the subtler tyranny of the previous underdogs.” In today’s world, we still see a near-universal human tendency to monitor the behaviour of others and to express moral outrage at those who refuse to conform to societal norms.
There are a range of animal species in which adults have been observed to engage in the proactive killing of infants of the same species, but which are not their own. This is to promote their own reproductive chances. The author argues this psychology can again be adapted and channelled towards the killing of adults outside of the individual’s own group. This has been observed in chimpanzees and in wolves, but of course humans take it to a different level.
Despite the length of this review, the above is a very basic summary of the author’s complex arguments. He does though make it clear that he is not a biological determinist. He is looking at the evolutionary basis for how certain behaviours may have developed amongst our ancient ancestors, but that does not mean modern humans have to act in accordance with them. We have consciousness and culture, and are not blindly obedient to our evolutionary urges. He also makes clear that postulating the “execution hypothesis” as a mechanism for past human evolution is in no way an endorsement of capital punishment today.
Some very interesting ideas are explored in this book, particularly around the self-domestication hypothesis. An excellent, thought-provoking read.
October 20, 2018
The premise of The Goodness Paradox takes some real effort to absorb, let alone accept. It is that Homo sapiens is actually mild mannered and non-violent, pointing to its self-domestication. That any species which can routinely slaughter its own in the millions while also routinely wiping out entire other species can be considered peaceful compared to wild animals requires some suspension of disbelief. That Richard Wrangham pulls it off so splendidly is a tribute to decades of research, a very well documented book, and a fairness exhibited in every chapter.
Wrangham does it by splitting violence into two types: proactive aggression and reactive aggression. Proactive aggressive coalitions are groups at the command of despots, from bullies to presidents-for-life. They kill individuals, families, clans and nations - when they assess that the action will be cost-free to them personally. Proactive aggression is planned and controlled, or at least purposely unleashed. Reactive aggression is a reaction, a self-defense mechanism, a fight or flight decision. It is a level of self-control that allows individuals and clans to back away from massacre, war, or fights. The tamer the species, the less reactive aggression it exhibits.
Some (Hobbesians) say Man is naturally violent, and needs Society to keep him under control. Others (Rousseauians) say Man is naturally peaceful, and Society has corrupted him into violence. Wrangham says both are right. And that’s the paradox. Then he proves both are right in no uncertain terms.
The difference between humans and animals is that you can set two unfamiliar two-year-old humans beside each other and they will not attack each other. We interact peacefully as the default option. We are helpful and altruistic without training. Chimpanzees – not so much. Chimpanzees fight every day. They will gang up on the alpha male and kill him, torture and kill females, and bite of the heads off infants. Chimps turn out to be so viciously brutal that Wrangham prefers to compare us to Neanderthals and previous editions of Homo, rather than our supposed nearest relatives.
The bulk of the book is based on the truly remarkable process of domestication. It’s not just cows and dogs and chickens that have been our charges for thousands of years. Wrangham tells the story of Dmitry Belyaev, who examined and fostered the process of domesticating wild silver foxes and minks in the USSR, even just in his own lifetime. He studied from generation to generation, while the foxes and minks changed physically as they became tamer.
More remarkably perhaps, domestication can be a self-administered process. There are examples in many species where branches have self-domesticated, with no input from Man. It happens all the time on islands, where predators and/or competition are no longer factors.
The Congo River separates chimpanzees to the north, from bonobos to the south. Bonobos self-domesticated in their more peaceful environment. Where chimps are vicious, bonobos are cuter, cuddlier, tamer, and far less violent. They both come from the same ancestor.
The physical difference between bonobos and chimps is dramatic, and Wrangham shows decisively that it comes from domestication. Skulls are smaller, canine teeth shrink, bodies become smaller and there is a dramatic shift to juvenility, called paedomorphism. They become cuter and infantilized. The physical differences between males and females reduce as well. In many species, white areas appear in the fur on the forehead or as “socks” marking the animal as domesticated. Temperamentally, domesticated animals show Increased social tolerance and reduction in reactive aggressiveness. Domesticated animals are therefore peaceful - as we have come to expect.
So the question arises: is Man self-domesticated? Wrangham shows it unquestionably. Earlier versions of Homo were bigger and stronger. Male faces protruded – they were not as flat as ours. Heads were larger, and so were bodies. A fascinating sidelight is that people are innately afraid of broad-faced men. Study after study shows it. Broad faces represent a much more fierce and threatening being that Man has not forgotten. Narrow-faced men are automatically more trustworthy.
Wrangham then pulls out a new key differentiator: language. It is because of language that people began to conform to rules. Reputations, rumors, accusations, trust and judgment all evolved in Man when language emerged. Language, he says, is the foundation of morality itself. Fear of sanction is the motivator. Morality is the polite cover. Language also allows Man to plan destruction.
Where we differ is that Wrangham thinks (like Steven Pinker et al) that violence has been on the wane, and that wars are on their way out. He is optimistic that Man’s domestication is leading toward a more peaceful race of humans, where a lack of threats means no need for war, and more tolerant attitudes will lead to forbearance rather than aggression.
There are at least two things wrong with this argument. First, the longer we go without war, the more romantic it becomes (as Wrangham himself points out). When World War I broke out, there was universal cheering, and thousands rushed to enlist, to fight the battle over – nothing. For the US Civil War, wives, mothers and children packed lunches to enjoy at the battles (at a safe distance, of course).
Second, although there has been a major reprieve since the unprecedented bloodletting of World War II, there is the ever more ominous and realistic scenario of new wars breaking out all over the world because of climate change. Those without water will have to move. So will those without land. And those whose crops no longer grow mean millions who are hungry will be on the march as well. Countries will close their borders to immigrants, unprecedented waves of them will cause chaos, and several opportunistic nations will feel obliged to grab what they can while they can. This sort of proactive aggression is Man’s specialty, not available in other species, again due to language. It’s not possible to pull together an armed force of chimps, despite their proclivity towards violence. But organizing supposedly peaceful men to kill is a well-worn path.
The Goodness Paradox is outside the box thinking writ large. It changes the perspective of where Man fits in the scheme of things. It explains a lot that has been inexplicable. And Wrangham offers all sides to every argument, so readers can see that the bases have been covered. It is at very least a revelation.
David Wineberg
Wrangham does it by splitting violence into two types: proactive aggression and reactive aggression. Proactive aggressive coalitions are groups at the command of despots, from bullies to presidents-for-life. They kill individuals, families, clans and nations - when they assess that the action will be cost-free to them personally. Proactive aggression is planned and controlled, or at least purposely unleashed. Reactive aggression is a reaction, a self-defense mechanism, a fight or flight decision. It is a level of self-control that allows individuals and clans to back away from massacre, war, or fights. The tamer the species, the less reactive aggression it exhibits.
Some (Hobbesians) say Man is naturally violent, and needs Society to keep him under control. Others (Rousseauians) say Man is naturally peaceful, and Society has corrupted him into violence. Wrangham says both are right. And that’s the paradox. Then he proves both are right in no uncertain terms.
The difference between humans and animals is that you can set two unfamiliar two-year-old humans beside each other and they will not attack each other. We interact peacefully as the default option. We are helpful and altruistic without training. Chimpanzees – not so much. Chimpanzees fight every day. They will gang up on the alpha male and kill him, torture and kill females, and bite of the heads off infants. Chimps turn out to be so viciously brutal that Wrangham prefers to compare us to Neanderthals and previous editions of Homo, rather than our supposed nearest relatives.
The bulk of the book is based on the truly remarkable process of domestication. It’s not just cows and dogs and chickens that have been our charges for thousands of years. Wrangham tells the story of Dmitry Belyaev, who examined and fostered the process of domesticating wild silver foxes and minks in the USSR, even just in his own lifetime. He studied from generation to generation, while the foxes and minks changed physically as they became tamer.
More remarkably perhaps, domestication can be a self-administered process. There are examples in many species where branches have self-domesticated, with no input from Man. It happens all the time on islands, where predators and/or competition are no longer factors.
The Congo River separates chimpanzees to the north, from bonobos to the south. Bonobos self-domesticated in their more peaceful environment. Where chimps are vicious, bonobos are cuter, cuddlier, tamer, and far less violent. They both come from the same ancestor.
The physical difference between bonobos and chimps is dramatic, and Wrangham shows decisively that it comes from domestication. Skulls are smaller, canine teeth shrink, bodies become smaller and there is a dramatic shift to juvenility, called paedomorphism. They become cuter and infantilized. The physical differences between males and females reduce as well. In many species, white areas appear in the fur on the forehead or as “socks” marking the animal as domesticated. Temperamentally, domesticated animals show Increased social tolerance and reduction in reactive aggressiveness. Domesticated animals are therefore peaceful - as we have come to expect.
So the question arises: is Man self-domesticated? Wrangham shows it unquestionably. Earlier versions of Homo were bigger and stronger. Male faces protruded – they were not as flat as ours. Heads were larger, and so were bodies. A fascinating sidelight is that people are innately afraid of broad-faced men. Study after study shows it. Broad faces represent a much more fierce and threatening being that Man has not forgotten. Narrow-faced men are automatically more trustworthy.
Wrangham then pulls out a new key differentiator: language. It is because of language that people began to conform to rules. Reputations, rumors, accusations, trust and judgment all evolved in Man when language emerged. Language, he says, is the foundation of morality itself. Fear of sanction is the motivator. Morality is the polite cover. Language also allows Man to plan destruction.
Where we differ is that Wrangham thinks (like Steven Pinker et al) that violence has been on the wane, and that wars are on their way out. He is optimistic that Man’s domestication is leading toward a more peaceful race of humans, where a lack of threats means no need for war, and more tolerant attitudes will lead to forbearance rather than aggression.
There are at least two things wrong with this argument. First, the longer we go without war, the more romantic it becomes (as Wrangham himself points out). When World War I broke out, there was universal cheering, and thousands rushed to enlist, to fight the battle over – nothing. For the US Civil War, wives, mothers and children packed lunches to enjoy at the battles (at a safe distance, of course).
Second, although there has been a major reprieve since the unprecedented bloodletting of World War II, there is the ever more ominous and realistic scenario of new wars breaking out all over the world because of climate change. Those without water will have to move. So will those without land. And those whose crops no longer grow mean millions who are hungry will be on the march as well. Countries will close their borders to immigrants, unprecedented waves of them will cause chaos, and several opportunistic nations will feel obliged to grab what they can while they can. This sort of proactive aggression is Man’s specialty, not available in other species, again due to language. It’s not possible to pull together an armed force of chimps, despite their proclivity towards violence. But organizing supposedly peaceful men to kill is a well-worn path.
The Goodness Paradox is outside the box thinking writ large. It changes the perspective of where Man fits in the scheme of things. It explains a lot that has been inexplicable. And Wrangham offers all sides to every argument, so readers can see that the bases have been covered. It is at very least a revelation.
David Wineberg
February 6, 2019
“The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
The human mind is plagued by a host of biases, and one of the most prominent is the “false dilemma” fallacy. This fallacy occurs whenever two choices are presented as the only options when a spectrum of possible choices exist, and is especially prevalent in debates regarding human nature.
Human nature is often presented as either innately good and corrupted by society (following Jean Jacques Rousseau) or as innately bad and civilized by society (following Thomas Hobbes). As you can imagine, the truth is much more complicated.
In The Goodness Paradox, Richard Wrangham presents a more nuanced view of human nature—informed by decades of research in primate behavior and evolutionary psychology—that accounts for the complex interplay between genetic predispositions and cultural forces that compel both good and evil behavior.
The first thing to note is that humans are, by the standards of nature, abnormally nonviolent. Our closest evolutionary cousins, chimpanzees, are 100 to 1,000 times more violent and aggressive than humans. Even bonobos, which are known for their tameness, are also quite a bit more aggressive compared to humans. Chimpanzees have the tendency, for example, to brutally and fatally attack, as part of a group, lone chimpanzees in neighboring territories at alarming rates. And, as Wrangham wrote, “one hundred percent of wild adult female chimpanzees experience regular serious beatings from males.”
So humans are, relatively speaking, extremely nonaggressive in terms of violence within a group or local community. At the same time, humanity has the potential to produce death on unimaginable scales during times of war. Hundreds of millions of people died as a result of the two world wars, and countless others have died in wars throughout history. There seems to be a paradox involving our abnormally nonviolent behavior in local groups and our extraordinarily violent behavior in war. How can we account for this?
Wrangham is proposing that the answer to this paradox lies in the difference between proactive and reactive aggression. Reactive aggression is an emotional reaction based on anger or fear in response to an immediate provocation or threat. Chimpanzees display high levels of reactive aggression whereas humans do not.
Proactive aggression, on the other hand, is cooly planned and coordinated to achieve some type of internal or external goal. It is not a response to an immediate provocation but rather a planned attack for the achievement of a stated goal. Humans display the highest levels of proactive aggression in nature.
To illustrate the difference between reactive and proactive aggression, Wrangham writes:
“The anthropologist Sarah Hrdy noted that to pack hundreds of chimpanzees into close quarters on an airplane would be to invite violent chaos, whereas most human passengers behave sedately even when they are crowded. As Dale Peterson observed, however, intense screening is needed to ensure that a secret enemy will not carry a bomb on board. The contrast illustrates the difference between our low propensity for reactive aggression and our high propensity for proactive aggression.”
Humans, due to their unique ability for language, abstract thinking, and emotional control, are not only equipped for greater proactive aggression, they have actively used it throughout history to select for individuals with lower reactive aggression. Our evolutionary history therefore predisposes us to both high levels of proactive aggression and to low levels of reactive aggression.
The “execution hypothesis” demonstrates how. According to Wrangham, the execution hypothesis “proposes that selection against aggressiveness and in favor of greater docility came from execution of the most antisocial individuals.”
Our ancestors developed coalitions of a large number of egalitarian males that would eliminate bullies and other miscreants (with high levels of reactive aggression) by killing them. This transformed human societies from alpha-male dominated hierarchies to egalitarian coalitions that did not tolerate selfish or aggressive behavior. With an enhanced ability to gossip, plan, and coordinate attacks, egalitarian groups became more powerful than single alpha-males. This selection for more docile humans occurred over thousands of generations to produce self-domesticated modern humans.
The evidence for this is of two types. The first is that virtually every known ancient culture engaged in capital punishment, and that ancient remains show signs of violent injuries. As Wrongham wrote:
“Capital punishment was present in all the earliest civilizations, from Egyptian, Babylonian, Assyrian, Persian, Greek, and Roman to Indian, Chinese, Inca, and Aztec. It happened not only for violent crimes but also for nonconformism (as is Socrates’s case), for minor felonies, and even some heartbreakingly trivial matters such as malpractice in selling beer (according to the Code of Hammurabi), or stealing the keys to one’s husband’s wine cellar (according to the laws of the early Roman Republic).”
The second line of evidence is indirect, but is part of a larger phenomenon known as the “domestication syndrome.” Charles Darwin first noticed that domesticated animals displayed certain characteristics that differed from their wild ancestors, such as tameness, floppy ears, white patches of fur, and juvenile faces with smaller jaws. Modern genetics has since discovered that all of these traits may be the result of changes to neural crest cells that are responsible for both physical characteristics and for changes in the adrenal glands (resulting in less fearfulness).
The interesting thing is that humans, compared to our evolutionary forebears, show these same physical and behavioral traits shared by other domesticated species. Modern humans are smaller (with smaller jaw lines), tamer, and more docile compared to our distant ancestors (and Neanderthals), just as dogs are tamer and smaller than wolves and bonobos are tamer and smaller than chimpanzees.
We know that humans can selectively breed silver foxes for tameness that turns them, behaviorally speaking, into dogs. Wrangham's revelation is that we did the same thing to ourselves by “selecting” for docility in humans by killing aggressive individuals over thousands of generations. Our tendency for proactive aggression resulted in a reduction in reactive aggression.
This seems to adequately resolve the paradox. One might wonder if our enhanced intelligence and ability to cooperate would explain the difference, and that reactive aggression is simply suppressed as a result of our superior emotional control. But higher intelligence and social cooperation does not seem to adequately explain the docility and lack of aggression we witness in most humans.
This has moral implications as well. While Wrangham recognizes that genes do not determine behavior, and that we are not prisoners to our biology or to anything that is “natural,” our evolutionary past and self-domestication explains much of our moral behavior. In an environment where egalitarian coalitions have the power to kill nonconformists, reputation suddenly becomes of paramount importance. This explains a host of our behaviors and emotions, such as guilt, shame, and embarrassment, and why we all care so much about what others think of us and why we feel the desire to punish wrongdoers (a tendency not found in chimpanzees).
And so we arrive at a disturbing conclusion. Our nonviolent tendencies from reduced reactive aggression is the result of our increased capacity for organized and planned violence toward those we deem to be different. As Wrangham writes, this makes our moral priority going forward quite clear: finding ways to reduce our capacity for organized violence and war.
The human mind is plagued by a host of biases, and one of the most prominent is the “false dilemma” fallacy. This fallacy occurs whenever two choices are presented as the only options when a spectrum of possible choices exist, and is especially prevalent in debates regarding human nature.
Human nature is often presented as either innately good and corrupted by society (following Jean Jacques Rousseau) or as innately bad and civilized by society (following Thomas Hobbes). As you can imagine, the truth is much more complicated.
In The Goodness Paradox, Richard Wrangham presents a more nuanced view of human nature—informed by decades of research in primate behavior and evolutionary psychology—that accounts for the complex interplay between genetic predispositions and cultural forces that compel both good and evil behavior.
The first thing to note is that humans are, by the standards of nature, abnormally nonviolent. Our closest evolutionary cousins, chimpanzees, are 100 to 1,000 times more violent and aggressive than humans. Even bonobos, which are known for their tameness, are also quite a bit more aggressive compared to humans. Chimpanzees have the tendency, for example, to brutally and fatally attack, as part of a group, lone chimpanzees in neighboring territories at alarming rates. And, as Wrangham wrote, “one hundred percent of wild adult female chimpanzees experience regular serious beatings from males.”
So humans are, relatively speaking, extremely nonaggressive in terms of violence within a group or local community. At the same time, humanity has the potential to produce death on unimaginable scales during times of war. Hundreds of millions of people died as a result of the two world wars, and countless others have died in wars throughout history. There seems to be a paradox involving our abnormally nonviolent behavior in local groups and our extraordinarily violent behavior in war. How can we account for this?
Wrangham is proposing that the answer to this paradox lies in the difference between proactive and reactive aggression. Reactive aggression is an emotional reaction based on anger or fear in response to an immediate provocation or threat. Chimpanzees display high levels of reactive aggression whereas humans do not.
Proactive aggression, on the other hand, is cooly planned and coordinated to achieve some type of internal or external goal. It is not a response to an immediate provocation but rather a planned attack for the achievement of a stated goal. Humans display the highest levels of proactive aggression in nature.
To illustrate the difference between reactive and proactive aggression, Wrangham writes:
“The anthropologist Sarah Hrdy noted that to pack hundreds of chimpanzees into close quarters on an airplane would be to invite violent chaos, whereas most human passengers behave sedately even when they are crowded. As Dale Peterson observed, however, intense screening is needed to ensure that a secret enemy will not carry a bomb on board. The contrast illustrates the difference between our low propensity for reactive aggression and our high propensity for proactive aggression.”
Humans, due to their unique ability for language, abstract thinking, and emotional control, are not only equipped for greater proactive aggression, they have actively used it throughout history to select for individuals with lower reactive aggression. Our evolutionary history therefore predisposes us to both high levels of proactive aggression and to low levels of reactive aggression.
The “execution hypothesis” demonstrates how. According to Wrangham, the execution hypothesis “proposes that selection against aggressiveness and in favor of greater docility came from execution of the most antisocial individuals.”
Our ancestors developed coalitions of a large number of egalitarian males that would eliminate bullies and other miscreants (with high levels of reactive aggression) by killing them. This transformed human societies from alpha-male dominated hierarchies to egalitarian coalitions that did not tolerate selfish or aggressive behavior. With an enhanced ability to gossip, plan, and coordinate attacks, egalitarian groups became more powerful than single alpha-males. This selection for more docile humans occurred over thousands of generations to produce self-domesticated modern humans.
The evidence for this is of two types. The first is that virtually every known ancient culture engaged in capital punishment, and that ancient remains show signs of violent injuries. As Wrongham wrote:
“Capital punishment was present in all the earliest civilizations, from Egyptian, Babylonian, Assyrian, Persian, Greek, and Roman to Indian, Chinese, Inca, and Aztec. It happened not only for violent crimes but also for nonconformism (as is Socrates’s case), for minor felonies, and even some heartbreakingly trivial matters such as malpractice in selling beer (according to the Code of Hammurabi), or stealing the keys to one’s husband’s wine cellar (according to the laws of the early Roman Republic).”
The second line of evidence is indirect, but is part of a larger phenomenon known as the “domestication syndrome.” Charles Darwin first noticed that domesticated animals displayed certain characteristics that differed from their wild ancestors, such as tameness, floppy ears, white patches of fur, and juvenile faces with smaller jaws. Modern genetics has since discovered that all of these traits may be the result of changes to neural crest cells that are responsible for both physical characteristics and for changes in the adrenal glands (resulting in less fearfulness).
The interesting thing is that humans, compared to our evolutionary forebears, show these same physical and behavioral traits shared by other domesticated species. Modern humans are smaller (with smaller jaw lines), tamer, and more docile compared to our distant ancestors (and Neanderthals), just as dogs are tamer and smaller than wolves and bonobos are tamer and smaller than chimpanzees.
We know that humans can selectively breed silver foxes for tameness that turns them, behaviorally speaking, into dogs. Wrangham's revelation is that we did the same thing to ourselves by “selecting” for docility in humans by killing aggressive individuals over thousands of generations. Our tendency for proactive aggression resulted in a reduction in reactive aggression.
This seems to adequately resolve the paradox. One might wonder if our enhanced intelligence and ability to cooperate would explain the difference, and that reactive aggression is simply suppressed as a result of our superior emotional control. But higher intelligence and social cooperation does not seem to adequately explain the docility and lack of aggression we witness in most humans.
This has moral implications as well. While Wrangham recognizes that genes do not determine behavior, and that we are not prisoners to our biology or to anything that is “natural,” our evolutionary past and self-domestication explains much of our moral behavior. In an environment where egalitarian coalitions have the power to kill nonconformists, reputation suddenly becomes of paramount importance. This explains a host of our behaviors and emotions, such as guilt, shame, and embarrassment, and why we all care so much about what others think of us and why we feel the desire to punish wrongdoers (a tendency not found in chimpanzees).
And so we arrive at a disturbing conclusion. Our nonviolent tendencies from reduced reactive aggression is the result of our increased capacity for organized and planned violence toward those we deem to be different. As Wrangham writes, this makes our moral priority going forward quite clear: finding ways to reduce our capacity for organized violence and war.
October 23, 2023
This is the most interesting, although long-winded, exploration of human violence that I’ve seen. First, Wrangham sets out to explain a paradox, that over the course of history people have grown more cooperative and non-violent toward members of their own communities, but also more prone to massive violence toward outsiders. Second, he tries to scientifically examine how these diverging trends evolved from the prehuman past forward.
Wrangham is a primatologist. His discussions on the evolution of violence heavily focus on studies of African ape behavior, and the process of animal “domestication.” This is where the book gets long winded, as theory after theory is carefully assessed. But it gets your curiosity rolling.
Chimpanzees are found to be far more prone to “personal” or “reactive” violence than modern people are. For example, a dominant male chimp is observed fighting and killing a subordinate male. The other males gather in a group, seeming concerned. A few days later, this gang of males attacks and tears their dominator male to pieces. In such cases, Wrangham sees signs of an evolutionary process, where the power of alpha males is checked by coalitions against bullies. Wrangham proposes a process of weeding out abusers within the community, selecting for cooperation through the power of mob justice. But this is another kind of violence. It's violence by coalitions who impose their norms on others, execute deviants to enforce conformity, and turn their aggressions outward against external rivals.
For me, the book's most interesting part concerns human history, as an estimated 300,000 early human tribes slowly conglomerate into the present fewer than 200 nations. But this raises a question Wrangham does not quite deal with. He is focused on how the evolution of group morality led to a rise in violence of a certain kind—not the reactive violence of individual battles over status, but collective violence that is undertaken “for the common good.” And this is the kind of violence that really gets destructive. Clearly, in the debate over whether we are naturally good or evil, Wrangham finds we are both. We are prone to both cooperation and conflict. But somehow the battles against outsiders, plus the increasing cooperation with insiders, lead to ever-larger and more inclusive communities of insiders. What turns an outsider into a fellow insider, and where is that process going?
Wrangham is a primatologist. His discussions on the evolution of violence heavily focus on studies of African ape behavior, and the process of animal “domestication.” This is where the book gets long winded, as theory after theory is carefully assessed. But it gets your curiosity rolling.
Chimpanzees are found to be far more prone to “personal” or “reactive” violence than modern people are. For example, a dominant male chimp is observed fighting and killing a subordinate male. The other males gather in a group, seeming concerned. A few days later, this gang of males attacks and tears their dominator male to pieces. In such cases, Wrangham sees signs of an evolutionary process, where the power of alpha males is checked by coalitions against bullies. Wrangham proposes a process of weeding out abusers within the community, selecting for cooperation through the power of mob justice. But this is another kind of violence. It's violence by coalitions who impose their norms on others, execute deviants to enforce conformity, and turn their aggressions outward against external rivals.
For me, the book's most interesting part concerns human history, as an estimated 300,000 early human tribes slowly conglomerate into the present fewer than 200 nations. But this raises a question Wrangham does not quite deal with. He is focused on how the evolution of group morality led to a rise in violence of a certain kind—not the reactive violence of individual battles over status, but collective violence that is undertaken “for the common good.” And this is the kind of violence that really gets destructive. Clearly, in the debate over whether we are naturally good or evil, Wrangham finds we are both. We are prone to both cooperation and conflict. But somehow the battles against outsiders, plus the increasing cooperation with insiders, lead to ever-larger and more inclusive communities of insiders. What turns an outsider into a fellow insider, and where is that process going?
June 12, 2019
This is a good book on an interesting topic. The idea that humans were self-domesticated, and how it might have happened, is provocative, and has deep roots. Wrangham argues that humans have, in essence, domesticated themselves, and now exhibit the same general character as our own domestic animals:
"They mainly have smaller bodies than their wild ancestors; their faces tend to be shorter and don’t project as far forward; the differences between males and females are less highly developed; and they tend to have smaller brain cavities (and thus brains). As it turns out, all of these changes appear in human fossils. "
The execution is less than stellar, but pretty good, once you get past the academic language. There's a lot of speculation, and theories with just a bit of observational support. This is a common problem in pop-anthropology books. I kept getting the feeling that a long magazine article would have done the job as well as this book, especially if it were better-written. Cautiously recommended, especially to anthropology fans.
Here's the best professional review I saw online, by a fellow-anthropologist. Read this one first: https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/...
If you have access to the WSJ, the preview linked below will give you a good idea of the flavor, and might save you actually reading it: https://www.wsj.com/articles/humans-t... There are also some good quotes at Terence's review, https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... -- and the publisher's preview here is short but worth reading. Amazon has a longer preview, https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/110...
==Earlier stuff==
..." even when chimpanzees know the rules perfectly well, they don’t always restrain their aggression. In the wild, their lives are full of violence. A day spent with wild chimpanzees gives you a good chance of seeing chases and hitting; every month, you are likely to see bloody wounds ..."
"They mainly have smaller bodies than their wild ancestors; their faces tend to be shorter and don’t project as far forward; the differences between males and females are less highly developed; and they tend to have smaller brain cavities (and thus brains). As it turns out, all of these changes appear in human fossils. "
The execution is less than stellar, but pretty good, once you get past the academic language. There's a lot of speculation, and theories with just a bit of observational support. This is a common problem in pop-anthropology books. I kept getting the feeling that a long magazine article would have done the job as well as this book, especially if it were better-written. Cautiously recommended, especially to anthropology fans.
Here's the best professional review I saw online, by a fellow-anthropologist. Read this one first: https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/...
If you have access to the WSJ, the preview linked below will give you a good idea of the flavor, and might save you actually reading it: https://www.wsj.com/articles/humans-t... There are also some good quotes at Terence's review, https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... -- and the publisher's preview here is short but worth reading. Amazon has a longer preview, https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/110...
==Earlier stuff==
..." even when chimpanzees know the rules perfectly well, they don’t always restrain their aggression. In the wild, their lives are full of violence. A day spent with wild chimpanzees gives you a good chance of seeing chases and hitting; every month, you are likely to see bloody wounds ..."
December 8, 2019
I made a well thought out decision not to finish this book. This is the first time I have done this when I have received a review copy. I am at a place in my life where there are so many things I want to read and never enough time. As a result, I don't want to waste the time I have. Normally, I don't write much for a DNF. But, I felt obligated to spend time on this since it was a review copy I received.
The idea of this book is an interesting one. Human violence and virtue, evolution, anthropology, and so on. I was irritated quite early on, but forced myself to give the book at least 100 pages and finished out the chapter I was on at 112 (approximately 40% of the book not including notes.) Unfortunately, the more I read, the more I found wrong with the book. He even started off the first paragraph with the claim that Hitler was a vegetarian and loved animals- false information often spread by edgelord meat eaters as a "gotcha!" to silence and demean vegetarians. I had an interest in seeing that he worked with Goodall and that she offered a blurb, but left wondering if Goodall had read anything by this man. If she has, I need to interrogate my positive view of her as well.
First, this book says little about virtue. It focuses mostly on violence. Second, holy hell is it steeped deeply in thick, white, colonialism, outdated language and concepts, debunked male dominated evolutionary psych theories, anthropocentrism and ideas of other animals as disposable objects, confirmation bias, and more. I bristled first when Wrangham discusses spending time studying populations in the Congo and how he went in expecting them to be very violent primitive people because he came from a lovely, nonviolent, rural English community. Ok. Well, he was wrong, but he seemed to not understand how screwed up and detrimental to scientific progress his initial belief system was. He doesn't let go of these racist and xenophobic prejudices. One simply cannot get an accurate picture of violence in the Congo without looking at colonialism's influence. A little research on him found that this was not the first time he was accused of racial insensitivity or racism. I stuck with him, understanding that not every book or author is perfect. But, it only got worse over time. To detail every instance where Wrangham's colonialism dominated his views would involve me writing an even longer review of a book I didn't finish. Perhaps I will just include a quote from Darwin he decided to use, in which he states that an indigenous group of humans he encountered were, "...the most abject and miserable creatures I anywhere beheld..." using this as a justification for discussing tribal peoples, almost always of color or from the global south, as less advanced than white colonizers. He used assessments and quotes like this regularly without any criticism or acknowledgement of the horribleness (with the exception of saying Nazis suck and pandering to them sucks, but that's easy.)
The book is also littered with language that made me feel like I was reading something from 1950, not 2019. References to "mentally handicapped" children, claiming white colonizers "discovered" indigenous people and land, claiming being Deaf was not an "optimal design" funnily enough after he claimed eugenics was wrong, generally negatively referring to people with disabilities or with pity, the aforementioned ways of discussing peoples of the global south, and so on.
Wrangham has a very reductive approach to looking at human and other animal behavior. Even when he seems to be covering all of the bases in discussing the various reasons for said behavior, he directly contradicts himself from one section to another or uses anecdotal or insufficient research to support his points. For instance, he notes that chimps being more violent than bonobos on average could be due to environmental factors like lack of access to food. He then discusses a study done in captivity with rescued chimps and bonobos in which they were placed in a room with bananas and watched. The bonobos shared, the chimps defaulted to a dominant eater. This, to him, meant that food and environment were not the cause (which he contradicts again later.) But, did anyone really think some banana slices in a room would erase each animal's entire history before they arrived there as well as information passed down from generation to generation before that (something we know they and many other species do?) If we took humans raised in a highly violent system and put them in a room with a cookie, would we expect that to be an accurate assessment of their potential? It's just bad assessment of science. I am not saying chimps aren't naturally more predisposed to violence, just that this was a terrible way of trying to prove it.
This inability to fully understand other animals as complex beings (a pretty critical component to his field and to creating a proper analysis here) is evident in how he discusses studies of imprisoned and abused animals. He fawns over studies where animals' brains are implanted with electrodes and after an already painful and terrifying brain surgery, are stimulated into aggressive states. He uses a study with a bullfight, using an animal who is already extremely abused in order to create an aggressive response, as a legitimate way to study natural behavior. There are studies where furriers keep animals in small cages over many years trying to find the best way to make a fur coat before killing and skinning them that are treated as amazing. He romanticizes the (ab)use of chimps for entertainment. He celebrates monsters like Yerkes and his colleagues traveling to Africa to kidnap primates from the wild and bring them home to study, harm, and kill. There were so many instances where one could read it and assume he was talking about a toaster rather than a living being that he has spent his life studying- which is also troublesome. Much of this is intertwined with his lack of interrogation of his white, colonialist approach to everything. I kept asking myself- did Jane Goodall really read this book before offering a blurb or was she just helping her colleague.
Once again, this is something Wrangham has been accused of before. For instance, in a previous book which was basically incel fodder couched in some pseudo-womens-empowerment lingo, Wrangham claimed that women choosing aggressive men is why we have patriarchy, leaving less aggressive ones in the friend zone. We know clearly that human attraction is far more complicated than that, but this long history of men in evolutionary research refusing to interrogate their own patriarchal internal processes. This has even lead to them borderline excusing rape due to their highly biased perecption of why it has occurred. But, hey, I told myself, maybe he has learned more since then and grown. He has changed his tune on Bonobo aggression- previously saying females were less aggressive but in this book saying they are moreso than males. But, he does seem to contradict that later so I am not sure what is true.
This leads into one of the main reasons I put this book down. Yes, there was colonialism and oppressive thinking and obvious bias. I have read many science texts with that in it but still found something useful. The problem was, I realized I couldn't trust anything he said. From the bias to the contradictions, what was I actually learning? On top of that, the book is stylistically boring and repetitive at times. It's a shame because the topic seems extremely interesting with huge potential to tell us something great. That just wasn't happening in this book. So, I'm putting it down and will definitely avoid this author in the future.
The idea of this book is an interesting one. Human violence and virtue, evolution, anthropology, and so on. I was irritated quite early on, but forced myself to give the book at least 100 pages and finished out the chapter I was on at 112 (approximately 40% of the book not including notes.) Unfortunately, the more I read, the more I found wrong with the book. He even started off the first paragraph with the claim that Hitler was a vegetarian and loved animals- false information often spread by edgelord meat eaters as a "gotcha!" to silence and demean vegetarians. I had an interest in seeing that he worked with Goodall and that she offered a blurb, but left wondering if Goodall had read anything by this man. If she has, I need to interrogate my positive view of her as well.
First, this book says little about virtue. It focuses mostly on violence. Second, holy hell is it steeped deeply in thick, white, colonialism, outdated language and concepts, debunked male dominated evolutionary psych theories, anthropocentrism and ideas of other animals as disposable objects, confirmation bias, and more. I bristled first when Wrangham discusses spending time studying populations in the Congo and how he went in expecting them to be very violent primitive people because he came from a lovely, nonviolent, rural English community. Ok. Well, he was wrong, but he seemed to not understand how screwed up and detrimental to scientific progress his initial belief system was. He doesn't let go of these racist and xenophobic prejudices. One simply cannot get an accurate picture of violence in the Congo without looking at colonialism's influence. A little research on him found that this was not the first time he was accused of racial insensitivity or racism. I stuck with him, understanding that not every book or author is perfect. But, it only got worse over time. To detail every instance where Wrangham's colonialism dominated his views would involve me writing an even longer review of a book I didn't finish. Perhaps I will just include a quote from Darwin he decided to use, in which he states that an indigenous group of humans he encountered were, "...the most abject and miserable creatures I anywhere beheld..." using this as a justification for discussing tribal peoples, almost always of color or from the global south, as less advanced than white colonizers. He used assessments and quotes like this regularly without any criticism or acknowledgement of the horribleness (with the exception of saying Nazis suck and pandering to them sucks, but that's easy.)
The book is also littered with language that made me feel like I was reading something from 1950, not 2019. References to "mentally handicapped" children, claiming white colonizers "discovered" indigenous people and land, claiming being Deaf was not an "optimal design" funnily enough after he claimed eugenics was wrong, generally negatively referring to people with disabilities or with pity, the aforementioned ways of discussing peoples of the global south, and so on.
Wrangham has a very reductive approach to looking at human and other animal behavior. Even when he seems to be covering all of the bases in discussing the various reasons for said behavior, he directly contradicts himself from one section to another or uses anecdotal or insufficient research to support his points. For instance, he notes that chimps being more violent than bonobos on average could be due to environmental factors like lack of access to food. He then discusses a study done in captivity with rescued chimps and bonobos in which they were placed in a room with bananas and watched. The bonobos shared, the chimps defaulted to a dominant eater. This, to him, meant that food and environment were not the cause (which he contradicts again later.) But, did anyone really think some banana slices in a room would erase each animal's entire history before they arrived there as well as information passed down from generation to generation before that (something we know they and many other species do?) If we took humans raised in a highly violent system and put them in a room with a cookie, would we expect that to be an accurate assessment of their potential? It's just bad assessment of science. I am not saying chimps aren't naturally more predisposed to violence, just that this was a terrible way of trying to prove it.
This inability to fully understand other animals as complex beings (a pretty critical component to his field and to creating a proper analysis here) is evident in how he discusses studies of imprisoned and abused animals. He fawns over studies where animals' brains are implanted with electrodes and after an already painful and terrifying brain surgery, are stimulated into aggressive states. He uses a study with a bullfight, using an animal who is already extremely abused in order to create an aggressive response, as a legitimate way to study natural behavior. There are studies where furriers keep animals in small cages over many years trying to find the best way to make a fur coat before killing and skinning them that are treated as amazing. He romanticizes the (ab)use of chimps for entertainment. He celebrates monsters like Yerkes and his colleagues traveling to Africa to kidnap primates from the wild and bring them home to study, harm, and kill. There were so many instances where one could read it and assume he was talking about a toaster rather than a living being that he has spent his life studying- which is also troublesome. Much of this is intertwined with his lack of interrogation of his white, colonialist approach to everything. I kept asking myself- did Jane Goodall really read this book before offering a blurb or was she just helping her colleague.
Once again, this is something Wrangham has been accused of before. For instance, in a previous book which was basically incel fodder couched in some pseudo-womens-empowerment lingo, Wrangham claimed that women choosing aggressive men is why we have patriarchy, leaving less aggressive ones in the friend zone. We know clearly that human attraction is far more complicated than that, but this long history of men in evolutionary research refusing to interrogate their own patriarchal internal processes. This has even lead to them borderline excusing rape due to their highly biased perecption of why it has occurred. But, hey, I told myself, maybe he has learned more since then and grown. He has changed his tune on Bonobo aggression- previously saying females were less aggressive but in this book saying they are moreso than males. But, he does seem to contradict that later so I am not sure what is true.
This leads into one of the main reasons I put this book down. Yes, there was colonialism and oppressive thinking and obvious bias. I have read many science texts with that in it but still found something useful. The problem was, I realized I couldn't trust anything he said. From the bias to the contradictions, what was I actually learning? On top of that, the book is stylistically boring and repetitive at times. It's a shame because the topic seems extremely interesting with huge potential to tell us something great. That just wasn't happening in this book. So, I'm putting it down and will definitely avoid this author in the future.
April 25, 2022
Subiectul principal al cartii este domesticirea, mai exact autodomesticirea omului.
Trebuie spus ca este o ipoteza sustinuta de o parte minoritara a comunitatii stiintifice, dar asta nu o face mai putin interesanta.
Trebuie spus ca este o ipoteza sustinuta de o parte minoritara a comunitatii stiintifice, dar asta nu o face mai putin interesanta.
January 3, 2023
"The anthropologist Sarah Hrdy noted that to pack hundreds of chimpanzees into close quarters on an airplane would be to invite violent chaos, whereas most human passengers behave sedately even when they are crowded. As Dale Peterson observed, however, intense screening is needed to ensure that a secret enemy will not carry a bomb on board."
This captures the phenomenon (or "paradox") the book is trying to explain: humans have very low reactive aggression, that is uncontrollably attacking someone in the anger of the moment. We can walk down the street, see strangers, they can even bump into us, and we'll virtually never hit them and usually won't even send a dirty look their way. Virtually no other wild animal is like that. But humans also have extraordinary levels of proactive aggression, we can plot wars, genocides, and much more that kill millions of humans in the process--something that no other animal could come remotely close to doing.
Richard Wrangham advances a bold thesis for how this came about: evolutionary changes driven by hundreds of thousands of years of capital punishment that effectively "self domesticated" humans, much like the process that turned reactively aggressive wolves into tame dogs and many other examples of domestication. Basically, language (a bit of a deus ex machina in this account, and given that it doesn't fossilize it may always be in every account) enabled humans to coordinate to kill overly aggressive people using gossip, plotting, and the like. Over hundreds of thousands of years--or about 12,000 generations--this led to genetic changes that separated from earlier humans not to mention chimpanzees.
The evidence Wrangham puts forward for this hypothesis is draws on evolutionary biology, animal behavior, genetics, neuroscience, anthropology and more. A lot of it draws on studies of the way the domestication changes animals, many of them in the direction of paedomorphic changes in which animals retain more juvenile features as adults, including reduced differences between males and females, certain aspects like bone density, and interesting things that have simultaneously evolved multiple times like floppy ears and white tufts. Wrangham looks at the fossil record and modern humans and sees many of these features diverging from our ancestors--and also differing from very recent relatives like neanderthals.
Wrangham contrasts his hypothesis to other explanations. One explanation he debunks (following a long-standing tradition of arguing against it) is group selection, because this generally cannot explain why individuals will not benefit from defecting--something that fear of execution can explain. He also criticizes cultural explanations for human aggressive behavior because of the strong evidence about how deeply rooted it is, observable in babies, in children even when given contrary instructions, etc.
He also applies this idea to a variety of areas. For example, he explains several moral puzzles about people's behavior (e.g., trolley-problem like issues around people not wanting to touch or directly engage in certain behavior that they would do indirectly) as humans evolving to be risk averse, trying to avoid being (unfairly) blamed when they were trying to help. He also analyzes war which is an example of "coalitionary proactive aggression," contrasting the primitive version which relied on voluntary consensus without leaders leading to raids with a very high probability of success with the modern version which entails leaders getting their followers to do things that are highly non-adaptive from an evolutionary perspective--requiring intense drilling, rules, and created camaraderie to make it work.
The above does not do justice to what is a very rich, dense, but highly readable book that draws on a lot of cutting-edge, peer-reviewed research. Although I am not 100 percent convinced of the execution hypothesis there is a rich set of evidence for it, not just an ex post just so story. Also, even if you do not agree with the hypothesis there is a lot to get out of the book, including a better understanding of aggression, some history of science (and particularly, some appalling politicalization that led scientists to resist admitting things like chimpanzee infanticide or hunter-gatherer warfare because they were afraid it would legitimize it in humans), and much much more.
Ultimately Wrangham is at pains to distance himself from the naturalistic fallacy that just because something is natural or evolved it is legitimate. He points out the ways that culture has changed over time to reduce violence--and that even nature itself builds in responses to incentives (e.g., the frequency of chimpanzee infanticide depends on factors that change the evolutionary rewards for engaging in it). Ultimately he agreed with Katherine Hepburn's character from The African Queen that "Nature... is what we are put in this world to rise above."
Very, very highly recommended.
P.S. Another image, like the opening quote, I cannot get out of my head is how humans have never really been led by alpha males, whether in hunter gathers or sophisticated societies. Our leaders are not obeyed because they could win a wrestling match with any other challenger but because they can organize a coalition to engage in violence to enforce the law. This means that humans have obedience in way that no wild animal does.
This captures the phenomenon (or "paradox") the book is trying to explain: humans have very low reactive aggression, that is uncontrollably attacking someone in the anger of the moment. We can walk down the street, see strangers, they can even bump into us, and we'll virtually never hit them and usually won't even send a dirty look their way. Virtually no other wild animal is like that. But humans also have extraordinary levels of proactive aggression, we can plot wars, genocides, and much more that kill millions of humans in the process--something that no other animal could come remotely close to doing.
Richard Wrangham advances a bold thesis for how this came about: evolutionary changes driven by hundreds of thousands of years of capital punishment that effectively "self domesticated" humans, much like the process that turned reactively aggressive wolves into tame dogs and many other examples of domestication. Basically, language (a bit of a deus ex machina in this account, and given that it doesn't fossilize it may always be in every account) enabled humans to coordinate to kill overly aggressive people using gossip, plotting, and the like. Over hundreds of thousands of years--or about 12,000 generations--this led to genetic changes that separated from earlier humans not to mention chimpanzees.
The evidence Wrangham puts forward for this hypothesis is draws on evolutionary biology, animal behavior, genetics, neuroscience, anthropology and more. A lot of it draws on studies of the way the domestication changes animals, many of them in the direction of paedomorphic changes in which animals retain more juvenile features as adults, including reduced differences between males and females, certain aspects like bone density, and interesting things that have simultaneously evolved multiple times like floppy ears and white tufts. Wrangham looks at the fossil record and modern humans and sees many of these features diverging from our ancestors--and also differing from very recent relatives like neanderthals.
Wrangham contrasts his hypothesis to other explanations. One explanation he debunks (following a long-standing tradition of arguing against it) is group selection, because this generally cannot explain why individuals will not benefit from defecting--something that fear of execution can explain. He also criticizes cultural explanations for human aggressive behavior because of the strong evidence about how deeply rooted it is, observable in babies, in children even when given contrary instructions, etc.
He also applies this idea to a variety of areas. For example, he explains several moral puzzles about people's behavior (e.g., trolley-problem like issues around people not wanting to touch or directly engage in certain behavior that they would do indirectly) as humans evolving to be risk averse, trying to avoid being (unfairly) blamed when they were trying to help. He also analyzes war which is an example of "coalitionary proactive aggression," contrasting the primitive version which relied on voluntary consensus without leaders leading to raids with a very high probability of success with the modern version which entails leaders getting their followers to do things that are highly non-adaptive from an evolutionary perspective--requiring intense drilling, rules, and created camaraderie to make it work.
The above does not do justice to what is a very rich, dense, but highly readable book that draws on a lot of cutting-edge, peer-reviewed research. Although I am not 100 percent convinced of the execution hypothesis there is a rich set of evidence for it, not just an ex post just so story. Also, even if you do not agree with the hypothesis there is a lot to get out of the book, including a better understanding of aggression, some history of science (and particularly, some appalling politicalization that led scientists to resist admitting things like chimpanzee infanticide or hunter-gatherer warfare because they were afraid it would legitimize it in humans), and much much more.
Ultimately Wrangham is at pains to distance himself from the naturalistic fallacy that just because something is natural or evolved it is legitimate. He points out the ways that culture has changed over time to reduce violence--and that even nature itself builds in responses to incentives (e.g., the frequency of chimpanzee infanticide depends on factors that change the evolutionary rewards for engaging in it). Ultimately he agreed with Katherine Hepburn's character from The African Queen that "Nature... is what we are put in this world to rise above."
Very, very highly recommended.
P.S. Another image, like the opening quote, I cannot get out of my head is how humans have never really been led by alpha males, whether in hunter gathers or sophisticated societies. Our leaders are not obeyed because they could win a wrestling match with any other challenger but because they can organize a coalition to engage in violence to enforce the law. This means that humans have obedience in way that no wild animal does.
December 23, 2023
This is a book that I was eager to dive into, but boy, was it a dry one! While it does offer some interesting insights, it didn't hit the mark in terms of being an engaging and practical read.
First off, let's talk about the good stuff. Wrangham's exploration of the intriguing paradox between human violence and goodness demonstrates some original thinking. He takes us on a journey through the biological and evolutionary origins of our species' ability for both violence and cooperative behavior. It's a fascinating concept, and he makes a pretty convincing case that these two seemingly contradictory traits are deeply intertwined in human history.
The book provides a deep dive into the evolution of human behavior, drawing from fields like anthropology, biology, and psychology. Wrangham's analysis of how aggression and cooperation evolved in our ancestors is meticulous, and he backs up his claims with solid research. The central theme of book is "self-domestication" theory, which suggests that humans evolved to be less violent through self-control.
But here's where the book loses a bit of its shine. Instead of igniting like a captivating fireworks show, the storytelling in this book is a faint spark. I yearned for that extra dash of zest and enthusiasm to illuminate this passionate topic. I mean, we're talking about the captivating realm of human conflict here, surely there's some drama lurking in the depths waiting to be unearthed, isn't there?
The book leans too heavily on theory. Wrangham spends a lot of time dissecting abstract concepts and academic debates. While the theories he presents are interesting, it would've been nice if he'd made a greater effort to show how these ideas apply to the real world. We just spent too much time in the world of chimps and not enough time in the world of humans. A lot of times, this book feels like a purely intellectual undertaking. Wrangham's primary motivation is making a case for his premise, and this abstract approach had me continually losing focus.
In a nutshell, "The Goodness Paradox" is a mixed bag. It definitely offers some valuable insights into the intriguing dance between violence and cooperation in our evolutionary history. Wrangham's research is impressive, no doubt about it. But the book's dry writing style, overly theoretical discussions, and a dearth of real-world examples make it a tough nut to crack.
If you're a hardcore enthusiast of evolutionary biology and anthropology, you might still find this book worth your while. But if you're like me, looking for a more approachable and relatable take on the subject, you might find yourself parched for a more accessible read.
First off, let's talk about the good stuff. Wrangham's exploration of the intriguing paradox between human violence and goodness demonstrates some original thinking. He takes us on a journey through the biological and evolutionary origins of our species' ability for both violence and cooperative behavior. It's a fascinating concept, and he makes a pretty convincing case that these two seemingly contradictory traits are deeply intertwined in human history.
The book provides a deep dive into the evolution of human behavior, drawing from fields like anthropology, biology, and psychology. Wrangham's analysis of how aggression and cooperation evolved in our ancestors is meticulous, and he backs up his claims with solid research. The central theme of book is "self-domestication" theory, which suggests that humans evolved to be less violent through self-control.
But here's where the book loses a bit of its shine. Instead of igniting like a captivating fireworks show, the storytelling in this book is a faint spark. I yearned for that extra dash of zest and enthusiasm to illuminate this passionate topic. I mean, we're talking about the captivating realm of human conflict here, surely there's some drama lurking in the depths waiting to be unearthed, isn't there?
The book leans too heavily on theory. Wrangham spends a lot of time dissecting abstract concepts and academic debates. While the theories he presents are interesting, it would've been nice if he'd made a greater effort to show how these ideas apply to the real world. We just spent too much time in the world of chimps and not enough time in the world of humans. A lot of times, this book feels like a purely intellectual undertaking. Wrangham's primary motivation is making a case for his premise, and this abstract approach had me continually losing focus.
In a nutshell, "The Goodness Paradox" is a mixed bag. It definitely offers some valuable insights into the intriguing dance between violence and cooperation in our evolutionary history. Wrangham's research is impressive, no doubt about it. But the book's dry writing style, overly theoretical discussions, and a dearth of real-world examples make it a tough nut to crack.
If you're a hardcore enthusiast of evolutionary biology and anthropology, you might still find this book worth your while. But if you're like me, looking for a more approachable and relatable take on the subject, you might find yourself parched for a more accessible read.
January 20, 2020
The 'Goodness Paradox' explores a strange conundrum of human nature: on the one hand we are one of the most docile and co-operative species on the planet, second only to some insects in our ability to tolerate each others presence and work together to achieve great things.
Yet on the other hand both individually and cooperatively human beings have created some of the most far reaching mass destruction on the planet and are capable of astounding cruelty.
To get to grips with this question Wrangham dives deep into comparative psychology and what we know of early hominids and neanderthals.
The material is very dense and at times technical, however ultimately Wrangham arrives at a compelling thesis that touches on the evolutionary role of human morality, politics, interpersonal violence and sexism. What I particularly like is Wrangham's ability to present multiple arguments and dissect the evidence for each rather than just pushing one concept.
I also appreciated that Wrangham rebutted ideas such as biological inevitability, fatalism and naturalistic fallacies when it came to his thesis. For example even though strong evidence is provided that our immediate/reactive aggression and moral senses likely developed from a selection whereby the most violent individuals of our species were summarily executed by more cooperative members, Wrangham clearly points out this is not support of the modern death penalty.
The Goodness Paradox is a good companion for other non-fiction I've been reading lately: Sapiens, Guns Germs and Steel, etc. While perhaps the Paradox is a little heavy for a casual read its highly recommended for anyone interested in the topic.
Yet on the other hand both individually and cooperatively human beings have created some of the most far reaching mass destruction on the planet and are capable of astounding cruelty.
To get to grips with this question Wrangham dives deep into comparative psychology and what we know of early hominids and neanderthals.
The material is very dense and at times technical, however ultimately Wrangham arrives at a compelling thesis that touches on the evolutionary role of human morality, politics, interpersonal violence and sexism. What I particularly like is Wrangham's ability to present multiple arguments and dissect the evidence for each rather than just pushing one concept.
I also appreciated that Wrangham rebutted ideas such as biological inevitability, fatalism and naturalistic fallacies when it came to his thesis. For example even though strong evidence is provided that our immediate/reactive aggression and moral senses likely developed from a selection whereby the most violent individuals of our species were summarily executed by more cooperative members, Wrangham clearly points out this is not support of the modern death penalty.
The Goodness Paradox is a good companion for other non-fiction I've been reading lately: Sapiens, Guns Germs and Steel, etc. While perhaps the Paradox is a little heavy for a casual read its highly recommended for anyone interested in the topic.
January 16, 2020
Summary: This title is misleading. It should be a hypothesis of aggression. I had to remove stars for that. I also don't totally agree with the way he draws conclusions on history.
The research is so good, b/c this dude is a Harvard Anthropologist. I learned a lot about animals. But I think the book Snap (in my Goodreads) does a better job of describing the aggressive piece. I think there isn't enough work on socialization from a hormonal point. Also, the title is Goodness paradox. I don't see goodness addressed enough as a comparison. Finally, he gets really obsessed with size of the brain. But it's not the size of your brain, it's the folds. This is in the Female Brain (in my Goodreads) book.
p. 2- Low reactive aggression, high reactive aggression
p. 15 - Dani, one of the highest killing rates, but one of the most peaceful (on what metric, how do we think of it?)
p.19 "Chimps are several hundred to a thousand times more aggressive." Bonobos were about half that, still a lot more than humans.
p.20 "Some 41 to 71 percent of women have been beaten by a man at some time during their life." more prevalent among societies at war.
p. 31 - Muybridge walks after killing a guy who'd been courting his wife. He's so sweet. A photographer.
p. 39 - Men with high testosterone to cortisol ratios tend to be more aggressive. Serotonin can help reduce reactive reactions, but not proactive reactions. (This is what causes aggression. It's regulated by sex hormones) It affects this 5HT receptor in the prefrontal cortex.
p. 57 - Domesticated animals have smaller brains vs. non-domesticated.
p. 95 he talks about the discovery of the bonobo.
p. 103 - Women ape only confronts if other females are within earshot.
p. 118 - Talks about how our brains are smaller than neanderthals and then our brains grew for a bit to become what it is now at 200,000
p.. 119 - 35k years ago, human brainsize shrunk 10-15%
p. 128 - The execution hypothesis - we killed off all the people that couldn't socialize.
p. 138 - Apes have not evolved to be sensitive to social disapproval.
p. 139 - "Even among today's men (but not women), since 2008 facial breadth has been discovered to be correlated with a propensity for reactive aggression."
p. 201 - They talk about the emotional response to moral behavior is more complex in humans (no work is provided on this)
p. 202 - Genetic argument for Pro-social behavior.
p. 215 - A group of betas can take down an alpha ... by being clever (but he misses this).
p. 259 - Revenge motivations and moral pressures are genetically different in our species. Others - advanced weaponry, language, social norms, docile psychology, training of warriors, and the ability to devise a shared plan.
The research is so good, b/c this dude is a Harvard Anthropologist. I learned a lot about animals. But I think the book Snap (in my Goodreads) does a better job of describing the aggressive piece. I think there isn't enough work on socialization from a hormonal point. Also, the title is Goodness paradox. I don't see goodness addressed enough as a comparison. Finally, he gets really obsessed with size of the brain. But it's not the size of your brain, it's the folds. This is in the Female Brain (in my Goodreads) book.
p. 2- Low reactive aggression, high reactive aggression
p. 15 - Dani, one of the highest killing rates, but one of the most peaceful (on what metric, how do we think of it?)
p.19 "Chimps are several hundred to a thousand times more aggressive." Bonobos were about half that, still a lot more than humans.
p.20 "Some 41 to 71 percent of women have been beaten by a man at some time during their life." more prevalent among societies at war.
p. 31 - Muybridge walks after killing a guy who'd been courting his wife. He's so sweet. A photographer.
p. 39 - Men with high testosterone to cortisol ratios tend to be more aggressive. Serotonin can help reduce reactive reactions, but not proactive reactions. (This is what causes aggression. It's regulated by sex hormones) It affects this 5HT receptor in the prefrontal cortex.
p. 57 - Domesticated animals have smaller brains vs. non-domesticated.
p. 95 he talks about the discovery of the bonobo.
p. 103 - Women ape only confronts if other females are within earshot.
p. 118 - Talks about how our brains are smaller than neanderthals and then our brains grew for a bit to become what it is now at 200,000
p.. 119 - 35k years ago, human brainsize shrunk 10-15%
p. 128 - The execution hypothesis - we killed off all the people that couldn't socialize.
p. 138 - Apes have not evolved to be sensitive to social disapproval.
p. 139 - "Even among today's men (but not women), since 2008 facial breadth has been discovered to be correlated with a propensity for reactive aggression."
p. 201 - They talk about the emotional response to moral behavior is more complex in humans (no work is provided on this)
p. 202 - Genetic argument for Pro-social behavior.
p. 215 - A group of betas can take down an alpha ... by being clever (but he misses this).
p. 259 - Revenge motivations and moral pressures are genetically different in our species. Others - advanced weaponry, language, social norms, docile psychology, training of warriors, and the ability to devise a shared plan.
April 25, 2019
This is a very interesting book to understand the human behavior under the scope of domestication. It supports the hypothesis that Homo sapiens has self-domesticated during its evolution of 300.00o years, most males controlling the aggressive males for the sake of survival of the community.
It all boils down to this, in each of us there is this animal instinct that can be triggered under dire circumstances (reactive aggression). Some mammals, Human and apes are also interestingly capable of planned murder (proactive aggression) when they see their power surpasses that of the target.
Humans appear docile compared to apes but one has to remember this:
“Among our ancestors, coalitionary proactive violence directed at members of their own social groups enabled self-domestication and the evolution of the moral senses. Now it enables the functioning of states. Unfortunately it also gives our species war, caste, the butchery of helpless adults, and many other forms of irresistible coercion.
The reason coalitionary proactive aggression enables these despotic behaviors is straightforward. A coalition of proactive human aggressors can choose when and how to be aggressive to their victims in such a well-planned way that they can achieve their goal with ovewhelming force and without risking their own safety. As long as the victim cannot assemble a defense, the ability to plan with clinical detachment gives a coalition extraordinary power. Success in removing opponents is predictable and cheap.”
“If we continue to improve the protections in our societies, the level of damage will continue to recede. But we should never forget the alarming potential made possible by the exertion of extreme power. The human species has yet to record a peace that lasts for millennia; and in a nuclear world, the frequency of violence might be less important than its intensity.”
Excerpt From: Richard Wrangham. “The Goodness Paradox.” Apple Books.
It all boils down to this, in each of us there is this animal instinct that can be triggered under dire circumstances (reactive aggression). Some mammals, Human and apes are also interestingly capable of planned murder (proactive aggression) when they see their power surpasses that of the target.
Humans appear docile compared to apes but one has to remember this:
“Among our ancestors, coalitionary proactive violence directed at members of their own social groups enabled self-domestication and the evolution of the moral senses. Now it enables the functioning of states. Unfortunately it also gives our species war, caste, the butchery of helpless adults, and many other forms of irresistible coercion.
The reason coalitionary proactive aggression enables these despotic behaviors is straightforward. A coalition of proactive human aggressors can choose when and how to be aggressive to their victims in such a well-planned way that they can achieve their goal with ovewhelming force and without risking their own safety. As long as the victim cannot assemble a defense, the ability to plan with clinical detachment gives a coalition extraordinary power. Success in removing opponents is predictable and cheap.”
“If we continue to improve the protections in our societies, the level of damage will continue to recede. But we should never forget the alarming potential made possible by the exertion of extreme power. The human species has yet to record a peace that lasts for millennia; and in a nuclear world, the frequency of violence might be less important than its intensity.”
Excerpt From: Richard Wrangham. “The Goodness Paradox.” Apple Books.
December 29, 2021
I feel sad for people who deny evolutionary psychology. It's the one and only thing than can explain our roots and ancestry.
E. O. Wilson died three days ago. He was booed a long time ago by the SJW of the epoch (mostly damned hippies) when he was the first to say that behavior had biological roots, instead of pure civilization influence. Thus, Sociobiology was conceived. Later on, Evolutionary psychology evolved. This is his legacy: understading our ancestry to answer questions about us.
E. O. Wilson died three days ago. He was booed a long time ago by the SJW of the epoch (mostly damned hippies) when he was the first to say that behavior had biological roots, instead of pure civilization influence. Thus, Sociobiology was conceived. Later on, Evolutionary psychology evolved. This is his legacy: understading our ancestry to answer questions about us.
March 31, 2019
Lots of interesting ideas here, from an eminent scientist. The development of violence and morality in human evolution, in context with other animals and especially compared to other apes is very thought provoking.
September 14, 2021
"The Goodness Paradox" is een zeer belangrijk boek dat veel inzicht geeft in onze menselijke natuur. Richard Wrangham is een Britse primatoloog en antropoloog werkzaam aan Harvard. Hij onderzoekt al 40 jaar het gedrag van chimpansees en mensen. Daarbij focust hij op voeding en op gewelddadig gedrag.
The Goodness Paradox draait om de vraag die Hobbes en Rousseau zich reeds stelden: is de mens van nature eerder goed of eerder slecht? Het antwoord is natuurlijk: beide. Zoals de psycholoog Steven Pinker zegt: in ons schuilen zowel innerlijke demonen als goede engelen. Wrangham buigt zich over de vraag hoe dat komt: waarom hebben mensen deze twee tegengestelde polen? Wat is de evolutionaire verklaring hiervoor?
Eerst en vooral moeten we onderscheid maken tussen twee soorten agressie: reactieve agressie en proactieve agressie.
De eerste soort agressie is impulsief en 'heetgebakerd': iemand beledigt je moeder en je geeft hem een klap in zijn gezicht. De tweede soort, proactieve agressie, is op voorhand gepland en 'koelbloedig': je wil wraak op een rivaal nemen en smijt een baksteen door zijn ruit, midden in de nacht. Extreme vormen van proactieve agressie zijn moord, oorlog (waarbij één partij een ruim overwicht heeft) en genocide.
Mensen, aldus Wrangham, scoren laag op reactieve agressie en hoog op proactieve agressie. Hij maakt de vergelijking met chimpansees. Als je 100 chimpansees samen in één ruimte zou zetten, komen er gegarandeerd vechtpartijen aan te pas. Mensen daarentegen kunnen gerust urenlang met 100 onbekenden in een ruimte zitten en vriendelijk met elkaar omgaan. Tegelijk scoren we hoog op proactieve agressie. Het aantal mensen dat sterft door geweld (moord, oorlog, ...) is in nagenoeg alle menselijke samenlevingen behoorlijk hoog. Het gemiddelde aantal doden door geweld bij mensen komt ongeveer overeen met dat van chimpansees.
Ook de manier waarop mensen en chimpansees soortgenoten doden vertoont overeenkomsten. Jonge mannelijke chimpansees patrouilleren de grensgebieden van hun territorium op zoek naar eenzame mannetjes of vrouwtjes van een naburige gemeenschap. Als ze zo'n eenzaam individu vinden laten ze al hun demonen los. Ze vermoorden de chimpansee vaak op gruwelijke wijze en eten hem soms op. Deze vorm van proactieve agressie doet denken aan die van criminele bendes die eveneens hun territorium in een stad beschermen met brutaal geweld. Net zoals chimpansees zullen bendes er meestal voor zorgen dat ze een groot numeriek overwicht hebben ten opzichte van hun rivalen, vooraleer ze tot de aanval overgaan.
Mensen en chimpansees scoren dus beide hoog op proactieve agressie, maar hoe komt het dan dat mensen zo weinig reactief agressief zijn? Wrangham werkt hier een fascinerende theorie uit. Ten eerste oppert hij dat die verminderde agressie ook te zien is bij gedomesticeerde soorten. Meer nog, het 'domesticatiesyndroom' is een gevolg van een selectie tegen reactieve agressie. Dit blijkt uit de beroemde experimenten van Russische wetenschappers Dmitri Beljajev en Ludmila Trut. Beljajev besloot in de jaren 50 om zilvervossen te fokken en ze 'genetisch tam' te maken. Zilvervosjes die niet beten of gromden wanneer ze gevoederd werden, werden eruit gepikt om verder mee te kweken. Na enkele generaties ontstonden er opvallende kenmerken. De vosjes krijgen een kleiner, meer kinderlijk gezicht, een krulstaart, witte vlekken op hun vacht. Ook hun gedrag veranderde: ze waren minder bang van mensen en begonnen zelfs te blaffen. Al deze veranderingen zijn onderdeel van het domesticatiesyndroom.
Volgens Wrangham zijn mensen ook een product van domesticatie, meer bepaald 'zelfdomesticatie'.
Als je ons vergelijkt met Neanderthalers (een goede proxy voor onze pre-Homo sapiensvoorouder) dan valt het op dat onze schedel ronder is, ons gezicht minder naar voor steekt, we kleinere tanden en kaken hebben en we minder zware botten hebben. Ook de verschillen tussen mannen en vrouwen zijn minder uitgesproken bij Homo sapiens dan bij de Neanderthaler. Meerbepaald: mannen zijn meer vrouwelijker geworden.
Hoe komt het dan dat we onszelf genetisch getemd hebben? Dit was uiteraard geen bewust proces, maar een gevolg van bepaalde selectiedrukken. Wrangham gebruikt hier een hypothese van de antropoloog Christopher Boehm (Moral Origins, 2012). Voor het overgrote deel van onze evolutionaire geschiedenis leefden we in kleine groepen (bands) van jager-verzamelaars. Een cruciale stap in onze evolutie was de ontwikkeling van een complex taalvermogen (hoe en waarom dat zich ontwikkelde is onderwerp van debat). Hierdoor konden we roddelen over anderen. Roddelen maakte coalities mogelijk tussen verschillende leden van de jager-verzamelaarsgroep. Als er een egoïstische bully of antisociale persoonlijkheid in de groep was - die bvb. andermans voedsel afpakte of seks had met andermans vrouwen - dan was de eerste strategie van de anderen om hem te bekritiseren, te shamen of belachelijk te maken. Soms was dit echter niet voldoende. Sommige individuen zullen doorgegaan zijn met hun egoistisch gedrag omdat het hen veel fitness-voordelen opleverde. Het laatste redmiddel van de andere leden bestond erin dat ze een coalitie sloten om hem te vermoorden. Volgens Wrangham kwam dit vaak genoeg voor om een diepgaand effect te hebben op onze gene pool. De meest agressieve, antisociale individuen werden door deze "doodstraffen" uitgefilterd. In hedendaagse jager-verzamelaarssamenlevingen worden mensen soms ook gedood omdat ze een bepaald cultureel taboe hebben geschonden. Wrangham vermoedt dat dit ook zo was honderdduizend jaar geleden. Het werd dus belangrijk om niet verdacht te worden van afwijkend gedrag. Op die manier werd conformisme aan de groepsnormen een must. Ook door goed samen te werken en anderen te helpen kon je reputatiepunten winnen. Op die manier ontstond het complexe morele systeem dat alle menselijke samenlevingen vandaag bezitten.
Doordat bully's werden weggeselecteerd door executies, werd in feite de zwaarste, reactieve agressie weggeselecteerd. Vandaag vertoont 1% van de menselijke populatie psychopatische kenmerken, maar bij onze voorouders lag dat aandeel veel hoger. Het gevolg is dat de mens een vriendelijkere soort is geworden.
Desondanks bezitten we ook een donkere kant: behalve de chimpansee is er geen enkel zoogdier dat zo vaak zijn eigen soortgenoten vermoordt. Toen we als jager-verzamelaars leefden was proactieve agressie voordelig in een aantal gevallen. Bij recente jager-verzamelaarssamenlevingen voeren oorlog door middel van raids, verrassingsaanvallen en hinderlagen. Ze sluipen 's nachts of 's morgens vroeg naar een naburige groep die ligt te slapen. Daarna doden ze de mannen, vrouwen en kinderen. Hierdoor kan de groep meer territorium en meer hulpbronnen veroveren. De kans dat de aanvallers zelf het leven laten is klein omdat ze hun vijanden bij verrassing nemen. Deze 'asymmetrische oorlogvoering' is dus veel minder risicovol dan symmetrische conflicten waarbij twee rivaliserende groepen ongeveer even sterk zijn. Symmetrische conflicten komen zelden voor. Als twee groepen jager-verzamelaars elkaar tegenkomen en geen van hen heeft een numeriek overwicht, zullen ze net als chimpansees wat bluffen, maar daarna de aftocht blazen. De kans om gewond te geraken of te sterven is voor beide kampen erg groot. Opnieuw zien we dat reactieve agressie - in tegenstelling tot proactieve agressie - geen voordeel oplevert.
Wrangham beschrijft onze dubbele natuur op een treffende manier. Hij is zeer erudiet en citeert een karrenvracht onderzoek om zijn theses te ondersteunen. Het is een bijzonder leerrijk boek dat dieper inzicht leidt in die bizarre soort genaamd Homo sapiens.
The Goodness Paradox draait om de vraag die Hobbes en Rousseau zich reeds stelden: is de mens van nature eerder goed of eerder slecht? Het antwoord is natuurlijk: beide. Zoals de psycholoog Steven Pinker zegt: in ons schuilen zowel innerlijke demonen als goede engelen. Wrangham buigt zich over de vraag hoe dat komt: waarom hebben mensen deze twee tegengestelde polen? Wat is de evolutionaire verklaring hiervoor?
Eerst en vooral moeten we onderscheid maken tussen twee soorten agressie: reactieve agressie en proactieve agressie.
De eerste soort agressie is impulsief en 'heetgebakerd': iemand beledigt je moeder en je geeft hem een klap in zijn gezicht. De tweede soort, proactieve agressie, is op voorhand gepland en 'koelbloedig': je wil wraak op een rivaal nemen en smijt een baksteen door zijn ruit, midden in de nacht. Extreme vormen van proactieve agressie zijn moord, oorlog (waarbij één partij een ruim overwicht heeft) en genocide.
Mensen, aldus Wrangham, scoren laag op reactieve agressie en hoog op proactieve agressie. Hij maakt de vergelijking met chimpansees. Als je 100 chimpansees samen in één ruimte zou zetten, komen er gegarandeerd vechtpartijen aan te pas. Mensen daarentegen kunnen gerust urenlang met 100 onbekenden in een ruimte zitten en vriendelijk met elkaar omgaan. Tegelijk scoren we hoog op proactieve agressie. Het aantal mensen dat sterft door geweld (moord, oorlog, ...) is in nagenoeg alle menselijke samenlevingen behoorlijk hoog. Het gemiddelde aantal doden door geweld bij mensen komt ongeveer overeen met dat van chimpansees.
Ook de manier waarop mensen en chimpansees soortgenoten doden vertoont overeenkomsten. Jonge mannelijke chimpansees patrouilleren de grensgebieden van hun territorium op zoek naar eenzame mannetjes of vrouwtjes van een naburige gemeenschap. Als ze zo'n eenzaam individu vinden laten ze al hun demonen los. Ze vermoorden de chimpansee vaak op gruwelijke wijze en eten hem soms op. Deze vorm van proactieve agressie doet denken aan die van criminele bendes die eveneens hun territorium in een stad beschermen met brutaal geweld. Net zoals chimpansees zullen bendes er meestal voor zorgen dat ze een groot numeriek overwicht hebben ten opzichte van hun rivalen, vooraleer ze tot de aanval overgaan.
Mensen en chimpansees scoren dus beide hoog op proactieve agressie, maar hoe komt het dan dat mensen zo weinig reactief agressief zijn? Wrangham werkt hier een fascinerende theorie uit. Ten eerste oppert hij dat die verminderde agressie ook te zien is bij gedomesticeerde soorten. Meer nog, het 'domesticatiesyndroom' is een gevolg van een selectie tegen reactieve agressie. Dit blijkt uit de beroemde experimenten van Russische wetenschappers Dmitri Beljajev en Ludmila Trut. Beljajev besloot in de jaren 50 om zilvervossen te fokken en ze 'genetisch tam' te maken. Zilvervosjes die niet beten of gromden wanneer ze gevoederd werden, werden eruit gepikt om verder mee te kweken. Na enkele generaties ontstonden er opvallende kenmerken. De vosjes krijgen een kleiner, meer kinderlijk gezicht, een krulstaart, witte vlekken op hun vacht. Ook hun gedrag veranderde: ze waren minder bang van mensen en begonnen zelfs te blaffen. Al deze veranderingen zijn onderdeel van het domesticatiesyndroom.
Volgens Wrangham zijn mensen ook een product van domesticatie, meer bepaald 'zelfdomesticatie'.
Als je ons vergelijkt met Neanderthalers (een goede proxy voor onze pre-Homo sapiensvoorouder) dan valt het op dat onze schedel ronder is, ons gezicht minder naar voor steekt, we kleinere tanden en kaken hebben en we minder zware botten hebben. Ook de verschillen tussen mannen en vrouwen zijn minder uitgesproken bij Homo sapiens dan bij de Neanderthaler. Meerbepaald: mannen zijn meer vrouwelijker geworden.
Hoe komt het dan dat we onszelf genetisch getemd hebben? Dit was uiteraard geen bewust proces, maar een gevolg van bepaalde selectiedrukken. Wrangham gebruikt hier een hypothese van de antropoloog Christopher Boehm (Moral Origins, 2012). Voor het overgrote deel van onze evolutionaire geschiedenis leefden we in kleine groepen (bands) van jager-verzamelaars. Een cruciale stap in onze evolutie was de ontwikkeling van een complex taalvermogen (hoe en waarom dat zich ontwikkelde is onderwerp van debat). Hierdoor konden we roddelen over anderen. Roddelen maakte coalities mogelijk tussen verschillende leden van de jager-verzamelaarsgroep. Als er een egoïstische bully of antisociale persoonlijkheid in de groep was - die bvb. andermans voedsel afpakte of seks had met andermans vrouwen - dan was de eerste strategie van de anderen om hem te bekritiseren, te shamen of belachelijk te maken. Soms was dit echter niet voldoende. Sommige individuen zullen doorgegaan zijn met hun egoistisch gedrag omdat het hen veel fitness-voordelen opleverde. Het laatste redmiddel van de andere leden bestond erin dat ze een coalitie sloten om hem te vermoorden. Volgens Wrangham kwam dit vaak genoeg voor om een diepgaand effect te hebben op onze gene pool. De meest agressieve, antisociale individuen werden door deze "doodstraffen" uitgefilterd. In hedendaagse jager-verzamelaarssamenlevingen worden mensen soms ook gedood omdat ze een bepaald cultureel taboe hebben geschonden. Wrangham vermoedt dat dit ook zo was honderdduizend jaar geleden. Het werd dus belangrijk om niet verdacht te worden van afwijkend gedrag. Op die manier werd conformisme aan de groepsnormen een must. Ook door goed samen te werken en anderen te helpen kon je reputatiepunten winnen. Op die manier ontstond het complexe morele systeem dat alle menselijke samenlevingen vandaag bezitten.
Doordat bully's werden weggeselecteerd door executies, werd in feite de zwaarste, reactieve agressie weggeselecteerd. Vandaag vertoont 1% van de menselijke populatie psychopatische kenmerken, maar bij onze voorouders lag dat aandeel veel hoger. Het gevolg is dat de mens een vriendelijkere soort is geworden.
Desondanks bezitten we ook een donkere kant: behalve de chimpansee is er geen enkel zoogdier dat zo vaak zijn eigen soortgenoten vermoordt. Toen we als jager-verzamelaars leefden was proactieve agressie voordelig in een aantal gevallen. Bij recente jager-verzamelaarssamenlevingen voeren oorlog door middel van raids, verrassingsaanvallen en hinderlagen. Ze sluipen 's nachts of 's morgens vroeg naar een naburige groep die ligt te slapen. Daarna doden ze de mannen, vrouwen en kinderen. Hierdoor kan de groep meer territorium en meer hulpbronnen veroveren. De kans dat de aanvallers zelf het leven laten is klein omdat ze hun vijanden bij verrassing nemen. Deze 'asymmetrische oorlogvoering' is dus veel minder risicovol dan symmetrische conflicten waarbij twee rivaliserende groepen ongeveer even sterk zijn. Symmetrische conflicten komen zelden voor. Als twee groepen jager-verzamelaars elkaar tegenkomen en geen van hen heeft een numeriek overwicht, zullen ze net als chimpansees wat bluffen, maar daarna de aftocht blazen. De kans om gewond te geraken of te sterven is voor beide kampen erg groot. Opnieuw zien we dat reactieve agressie - in tegenstelling tot proactieve agressie - geen voordeel oplevert.
Wrangham beschrijft onze dubbele natuur op een treffende manier. Hij is zeer erudiet en citeert een karrenvracht onderzoek om zijn theses te ondersteunen. Het is een bijzonder leerrijk boek dat dieper inzicht leidt in die bizarre soort genaamd Homo sapiens.
February 20, 2023
相当精彩，也很适合与斯蒂芬·平克的《人性中的善良天使》组合阅读。
总的来说，前10章内容的含金量尤其高，后3章相形之下稍显逊色一些。作者提出的这一整套理论，由于逻辑链条很长，所以未来的研究但凡打破了这个逻辑链条上的任何一环，就会对其造成不小的破坏。但至少就目前而言，这套理论似乎大体上还是能够自圆其说的。
人类、尤其是人类男性的暴力倾向是基因和社会化共同作用的结果，而两者的重要性几乎不相上下。这种基因曾经对我们祖先的生存至关重要，且按作者的理论，男性联盟的暴力甚至也是人类自我驯化的重要动力。但另一点也基本是没有疑问的：基因可以影响行为，但很少能够单独地决定行为。“某种事物是否自然，并不能说明我们是否应该在今天的生活中给予其一席之地……自然是我们在这个世界上要超越的东西。”
因此，人类也需要时时提醒自己：“历史比进化论重要得多。”
总的来说，前10章内容的含金量尤其高，后3章相形之下稍显逊色一些。作者提出的这一整套理论，由于逻辑链条很长，所以未来的研究但凡打破了这个逻辑链条上的任何一环，就会对其造成不小的破坏。但至少就目前而言，这套理论似乎大体上还是能够自圆其说的。
人类、尤其是人类男性的暴力倾向是基因和社会化共同作用的结果，而两者的重要性几乎不相上下。这种基因曾经对我们祖先的生存至关重要，且按作者的理论，男性联盟的暴力甚至也是人类自我驯化的重要动力。但另一点也基本是没有疑问的：基因可以影响行为，但很少能够单独地决定行为。“某种事物是否自然，并不能说明我们是否应该在今天的生活中给予其一席之地……自然是我们在这个世界上要超越的东西。”
因此，人类也需要时时提醒自己：“历史比进化论重要得多。”
November 15, 2022
I read this book because of a targeted ad that popped up on my Facebook feed. Because the type of books that the Facebook algorithm thinks I like to read are usually more along the lines of Malcolm Gladwell, I was expecting this to be pop-anthropology: intriguing and addictive brain candy written for the masses, designed to provide fodder for water-cooler conversations (if those are still a thing).
So I was a bit surprised when this turned out to be a fairly serious scholarly and academic work. I don't think I've read something quite this erudite since college. It could have been an assigned text in my archaeology class (in which I only mustered a B because clovis points and pottery shards didn't hold my attention as much as Indiana Jones led me to believe they would).
To be honest, I skimmed a few chapters, primarily the ones dealing with bonobos and the intricacies of fox domestication.
Here's the gist of the argument: Humans are actually way less violent than you would think given our evolutionary history. We have a sense of right and wrong (unless we're Ted Bundy). Human morality evolved because we, as a social species, domesticated ourselves by murdering bullies and sociopaths and non-conformists.
The concept of domestication is really important here. The book spends many pages defining what, exactly, it means to be a domesticated species, and arguing that humans are, in fact, fully domesticated, and going into minute details about psychological and physiological changes that occur when species become domesticated. Okay. Fine with me. The amount of detail laid out reminded me of a prosecuting attorney arguing a case by putting forensic witnesses on the stand, which implies that the claim that humans are domesticated might be controversial to someone, somewhere, but I don't really care, it sounds reasonable to me, I don’t have a dog in this fight, I'm just reading this book to find out why murder is a thing.
The author observes that there are two types of violence, reactive aggression and proactive aggression. Reactive aggression is when someone spills a drink on you at a bar and you whack him with a pool cue. This happens. But, as the author points out, not very often. Especially compared to our primate cousins like chimpanzees and gorillas, who fight constantly over minor slights. Be honest, how often do you really get into a bar fight? So, despite the evening news, we as a species are actually pretty docile and cooperative, all things considered.
The thing that distinguishes humans from other species is proactive aggression, or premeditated violence, often perpetrated by a group. Warfare and capital punishment are examples. The author argues that the evolution of language allowed our social species to plan, and one consequence of that is some humans planned to gang up and murder members of their tribe they didn't like, and this gruesome behavior led, inadvertently, to the evolution of morality.
For what it's worth, the author states in the afterward that he finds the death penalty to be a relic of our barbaric past, which we ought to dispense with in our modern, civilized society. I tend to agree. Even if the reason why I hold these moral views in the first place is due to evolutionary quirks precipitated by the death penalty.
So I was a bit surprised when this turned out to be a fairly serious scholarly and academic work. I don't think I've read something quite this erudite since college. It could have been an assigned text in my archaeology class (in which I only mustered a B because clovis points and pottery shards didn't hold my attention as much as Indiana Jones led me to believe they would).
To be honest, I skimmed a few chapters, primarily the ones dealing with bonobos and the intricacies of fox domestication.
Here's the gist of the argument: Humans are actually way less violent than you would think given our evolutionary history. We have a sense of right and wrong (unless we're Ted Bundy). Human morality evolved because we, as a social species, domesticated ourselves by murdering bullies and sociopaths and non-conformists.
The concept of domestication is really important here. The book spends many pages defining what, exactly, it means to be a domesticated species, and arguing that humans are, in fact, fully domesticated, and going into minute details about psychological and physiological changes that occur when species become domesticated. Okay. Fine with me. The amount of detail laid out reminded me of a prosecuting attorney arguing a case by putting forensic witnesses on the stand, which implies that the claim that humans are domesticated might be controversial to someone, somewhere, but I don't really care, it sounds reasonable to me, I don’t have a dog in this fight, I'm just reading this book to find out why murder is a thing.
The author observes that there are two types of violence, reactive aggression and proactive aggression. Reactive aggression is when someone spills a drink on you at a bar and you whack him with a pool cue. This happens. But, as the author points out, not very often. Especially compared to our primate cousins like chimpanzees and gorillas, who fight constantly over minor slights. Be honest, how often do you really get into a bar fight? So, despite the evening news, we as a species are actually pretty docile and cooperative, all things considered.
The thing that distinguishes humans from other species is proactive aggression, or premeditated violence, often perpetrated by a group. Warfare and capital punishment are examples. The author argues that the evolution of language allowed our social species to plan, and one consequence of that is some humans planned to gang up and murder members of their tribe they didn't like, and this gruesome behavior led, inadvertently, to the evolution of morality.
For what it's worth, the author states in the afterward that he finds the death penalty to be a relic of our barbaric past, which we ought to dispense with in our modern, civilized society. I tend to agree. Even if the reason why I hold these moral views in the first place is due to evolutionary quirks precipitated by the death penalty.
December 21, 2021
العلاقة بين العنف والفضيلة ...
يقول Richard Wrangham عالم الأنثروبولوجيا الأمريكي في كتابه :
The Goodness Paradox: The Strange Relationship Between Virtue and Violence in Human Evolution
إن الإنسان العاقل يمكن أن يكون أكثر الأنواع تسامحاً و أخلاقية كما أنه يمكن أن يكون أكثرها شرًا . ما الذي حدث خلال التطور البشري و أدى إلى حصول هذه المفارقة ؟
العنوان الفرعي لكتابي هو : العلاقة الغريبة بين الفضيلة والعنف في تطور الإنسان . هذا وصف واضح لاستنتاج يبدو لي منطقيًا وواضحًا و رائع أيضًا . أعتقد أن السبب وراء تطور البشر ليكونوا متسامحين نسبياً وهادئين ، في تفاعلات عادية وجهاً لوجه ، هو أن أسلافنا استخدموا العنف المتطرف - في شكل عقوبة الإعدام - لأكثر من 300000 عام - للسيطرة على أولئك الذين فرضوا إرادتهم على الآخرين عن طريق العدوان الجسدي . نتيجة لذلك ، كان هناك انتقاء جيني ضد أولئك الذين لديهم ميل كبير للعدوان التفاعلي أو حتى للسلوك التنافسي . بمرور الوقت التطوري ، وبعبارة أخرى ، أدى شكل فريد من أشكال العنف الإنساني (عقوبة الإعدام) إلى ميل بشري فريد نحو الفضيلة الأخلاقية !!
البصيرة الجيدة تكون عبر الاعتراف بالاختلافات والتشابهات في معدلات العدوان ، عندما نقارن البشر والشمبانزي . لقد وثقنا أنا و (مارتن مولر) و(مايكل ويلسون) معدلات العدوان والقتل بين الشمبانزي بالتفصيل وقمنا بمقارنة النتائج النهائية ، بنتائج دراسات على البشر .
والنتيجة كانت واضحة لأي شخص يقضي بعض الوقت مع هذه القرود الرائعة والجذابة والمثيرة للقلق بنفس الوقت . حيث يتدخل الشمبانزي في عدوان جسدي مع أعضاء المجموعة الآخرين بوتيرة أعلى بمئات أو آلاف المرات من البشر .
في أيامنا هذه أي إنسان يدخل في معارك بشكل متكرر مثل شمبانزي بري ، أو قرد بونوبو بري ، سيتم حبسه في غضون أيام !!
لذلك في هذا الصدد ، البشر مسالمين أكثر بكثير من الشمبانزي أو البونوبو . و من ناحية أخرى ، فإن نسبة احتمال وفاة إنسان بقتله من قبل البشر الآخرين ، وخاصة في الحرب ، هي نفس نسبة احتمال وفاة الشمبانزي بقتله من قبل الشمبانزي الآخرين !!
كلا النوعين طويل العمر ويمكنهما أن يموتا من أسباب مختلفة ، لذلك ليس من الشائع جداً أن يُقتل الإنسان أو الشمبانزي على أيدي أشخاص محددين . ومع ذلك ، فإن البشر والشمبانزي لديهم معدلات مرتفعة و متشابهة للقتل في الصراع مقارنة بالغالبية العظمى من الثدييات !!
درجات الشمبانزي عالية في كل من العدوان الاستباقي والتفاعلي ، في حين أن البشر لديهم درجات عالية في العدوان الاستباقي ، و منخفضة في التفاعلي .
#Maher_Razouk
#ماهررزوق
يقول Richard Wrangham عالم الأنثروبولوجيا الأمريكي في كتابه :
The Goodness Paradox: The Strange Relationship Between Virtue and Violence in Human Evolution
إن الإنسان العاقل يمكن أن يكون أكثر الأنواع تسامحاً و أخلاقية كما أنه يمكن أن يكون أكثرها شرًا . ما الذي حدث خلال التطور البشري و أدى إلى حصول هذه المفارقة ؟
العنوان الفرعي لكتابي هو : العلاقة الغريبة بين الفضيلة والعنف في تطور الإنسان . هذا وصف واضح لاستنتاج يبدو لي منطقيًا وواضحًا و رائع أيضًا . أعتقد أن السبب وراء تطور البشر ليكونوا متسامحين نسبياً وهادئين ، في تفاعلات عادية وجهاً لوجه ، هو أن أسلافنا استخدموا العنف المتطرف - في شكل عقوبة الإعدام - لأكثر من 300000 عام - للسيطرة على أولئك الذين فرضوا إرادتهم على الآخرين عن طريق العدوان الجسدي . نتيجة لذلك ، كان هناك انتقاء جيني ضد أولئك الذين لديهم ميل كبير للعدوان التفاعلي أو حتى للسلوك التنافسي . بمرور الوقت التطوري ، وبعبارة أخرى ، أدى شكل فريد من أشكال العنف الإنساني (عقوبة الإعدام) إلى ميل بشري فريد نحو الفضيلة الأخلاقية !!
البصيرة الجيدة تكون عبر الاعتراف بالاختلافات والتشابهات في معدلات العدوان ، عندما نقارن البشر والشمبانزي . لقد وثقنا أنا و (مارتن مولر) و(مايكل ويلسون) معدلات العدوان والقتل بين الشمبانزي بالتفصيل وقمنا بمقارنة النتائج النهائية ، بنتائج دراسات على البشر .
والنتيجة كانت واضحة لأي شخص يقضي بعض الوقت مع هذه القرود الرائعة والجذابة والمثيرة للقلق بنفس الوقت . حيث يتدخل الشمبانزي في عدوان جسدي مع أعضاء المجموعة الآخرين بوتيرة أعلى بمئات أو آلاف المرات من البشر .
في أيامنا هذه أي إنسان يدخل في معارك بشكل متكرر مثل شمبانزي بري ، أو قرد بونوبو بري ، سيتم حبسه في غضون أيام !!
لذلك في هذا الصدد ، البشر مسالمين أكثر بكثير من الشمبانزي أو البونوبو . و من ناحية أخرى ، فإن نسبة احتمال وفاة إنسان بقتله من قبل البشر الآخرين ، وخاصة في الحرب ، هي نفس نسبة احتمال وفاة الشمبانزي بقتله من قبل الشمبانزي الآخرين !!
كلا النوعين طويل العمر ويمكنهما أن يموتا من أسباب مختلفة ، لذلك ليس من الشائع جداً أن يُقتل الإنسان أو الشمبانزي على أيدي أشخاص محددين . ومع ذلك ، فإن البشر والشمبانزي لديهم معدلات مرتفعة و متشابهة للقتل في الصراع مقارنة بالغالبية العظمى من الثدييات !!
درجات الشمبانزي عالية في كل من العدوان الاستباقي والتفاعلي ، في حين أن البشر لديهم درجات عالية في العدوان الاستباقي ، و منخفضة في التفاعلي .
#Maher_Razouk
#ماهررزوق
October 24, 2022
„Din întuneric a fost plămădită o specie care se vede pe sine drept ceea ce este - o fărâmă de mentalitate într-un univers steril și vast”.
Poate această specie să găsească, totuși, lumina? Este greu să dăm un răspuns pozitiv în vremurile actuale, în care continuăm să luptăm pentru pace, iar pericolul nuclear poate face ca „frecvența violenței să fie mai puțin importantă decât intensitatea ei”…
Cred că lupta pentru construirea unui sistem social în care să ne putem simți în siguranță nu se va sfârși niciodată. Dar dacă suntem conștienți de predispozițiile speciei umane spre violență și de capacitatea acesteia de a ataca chiar și fără să fie provocată, poate vom continua să perfecționăm sistemele pe care le avem deja și vom reuși să găsim modalități mai bune de a reduce, pentru binele generațiilor viitoare, agresiunea.
Poate această specie să găsească, totuși, lumina? Este greu să dăm un răspuns pozitiv în vremurile actuale, în care continuăm să luptăm pentru pace, iar pericolul nuclear poate face ca „frecvența violenței să fie mai puțin importantă decât intensitatea ei”…
Cred că lupta pentru construirea unui sistem social în care să ne putem simți în siguranță nu se va sfârși niciodată. Dar dacă suntem conștienți de predispozițiile speciei umane spre violență și de capacitatea acesteia de a ataca chiar și fără să fie provocată, poate vom continua să perfecționăm sistemele pe care le avem deja și vom reuși să găsim modalități mai bune de a reduce, pentru binele generațiilor viitoare, agresiunea.
December 17, 2021
Im Grunde genommen ist die Zähmung des Menschen auch nichts anderes als die Domestizierung des Homo Sapiens.
Und genau das wird thematisiert. Der Anthropologe und Schimpansenforscher Richard Wrangham, der seinerzeit mit Jane Goodall zusammengearbeitet hat und Schimpansenforschung betrieben hat, betont wie sehr die Todesstrafe zur Sozialisierung des Menschen beigetragen hat. Wer sich sozial verhält, der wird in gesellschaftlichen Kreisen belohnt.
In seinem Buch vergleicht er auch das Verhalten zwischen Bonobos und Schimpansen oder domestizierten Hunden und Wölfen. Er erklärt auch was Merkmale sind, die domestizierte Hunde haben und wie diese Merkmale auf das menschliche Miteinander übertragen werden kann.
Ein sehr gutes artikuliertes Buch!
Und genau das wird thematisiert. Der Anthropologe und Schimpansenforscher Richard Wrangham, der seinerzeit mit Jane Goodall zusammengearbeitet hat und Schimpansenforschung betrieben hat, betont wie sehr die Todesstrafe zur Sozialisierung des Menschen beigetragen hat. Wer sich sozial verhält, der wird in gesellschaftlichen Kreisen belohnt.
In seinem Buch vergleicht er auch das Verhalten zwischen Bonobos und Schimpansen oder domestizierten Hunden und Wölfen. Er erklärt auch was Merkmale sind, die domestizierte Hunde haben und wie diese Merkmale auf das menschliche Miteinander übertragen werden kann.
Ein sehr gutes artikuliertes Buch!
May 11, 2019
Well written account theorizing that humans domesticated themselves, reducing their reactive aggression and becoming capable of long-term social cooperation. The potential downside turns out to be that the hominin propensity for proactive aggression was given greater scope. While it made humans capable of extraordinary achievements both material and intellectual, it also made them capable of things like concentration camps, murder, and any other evil one cares to mention.
A few quotes convey the gist of Wrangham's argument:
Highly recommended.
A few quotes convey the gist of Wrangham's argument:
The revolution that first brought down the alpha bullies...had given the new leaders extraordinary power. By discovering that they could control even the most imposing fighter, the previously subordinate males found they could further their goals in other ways, too.... Some 300,000 years ago, males discovered absolute power. They had surely been individually dominant to females before the onset of capital punishment.... Afterward, however, the dominance of males...took a new form. It became a patriarchy in the special sense of male dominance based on a system. The system was a network of mature males protecting their mutual interests. (p. 215)
[T]he new mentality of which humanity is rightly proud had darker origins than we normally like to think. The force that bred conscience and condemnation into our ancestors began in the revolution of males competing for a new kind of power. It ended in the tyranny of the cousins with two major kinds of social effect.... It constrains society to follow moral principles that promote cooperation, fairness, and protection from harm....
[I]t also brought a new kind of dominance, because the limited power of a single alpha became the absolute power of a male coalition. (p. 221)
Coalitionary proactive aggression is responsible for execution, war, massacre, slavery, hazing, ritual sacrifice, torture, lynchings, gang wars, political purges, and similar abuses of power. It permits sovereignty as a right over life, caste as a system of casual domination, and guards who make prisoners dig their own graves. It makes kings out of wimps, underlies fidelity to groups, and gives us long-term tyrannies. It has battered our species since the Pleistocene....
It is therefore cheering to remember that in sane individuals proactive aggression is a highly selective behavior that is delicately attuned to context.... Proactive aggression is not produced by individuals in a fit of rage, or in an alcoholic haze, or out of a testosterone-induced failure of cortical control. It is a considered act by an individual or coalition that takes into account the likely costs. It has a strong tendency to disappear when it does not pay. (p. 246)
Highly recommended.
April 15, 2019
Humans can be exceptionally kind, compassionate, and cooperative. And they can also be cruel, competitive, and the nastiest SOBs it will ever be your misfortune to meet. Is this a paradox? I used to think so when I was (much) younger, and apparently some people still do. Richard Wrangham, a professor of Biological Anthropology at Harvard, attempts to explain it.
I'll try to summarize his position here:
The seeming discontinuity in human nature is due to innate aggressive proclivities that evolved over time, not just in humans but in several species. Wrangham distinguishes two types. Reactive aggression is the spur of the moment, lose your temper type of anger, the kind that (after things calm down) we'd probably view as an overreaction to some minor provocation. Proactive aggression is the cold, intentional type, the kind of aggression that takes a bit of advance planning or at least some prior consideration—like deciding you want someone else's banana and laying a trap for the previous owner in order to relieve him of it. As a subset of this, he identifies coalitionary proactive aggression, which simply means that a bunch of people (or apes or prehumans or whatever) get together, pick a victim, and subject it to a very bad and often final day. From this come wars.
Humans, he says, have self-domesticated by breeding out extreme reactive aggression while breeding in a capacity for proactive aggression. This wasn't intentional, of course. There were no prehuman eugenicists or alien experimental biologists behind it, although the effect was not unlike when humans intentionally manage breeding in order to domestic animals. (There is some interesting stuff about domestication syndrome that I won't go into here because it would take a while and it's sort of beside the main point, but it is why dogs are cuter and cuddlier than wolves.)
In any population there will be some individuals who are bigger and meaner than others. Depending on the species, the biggest and meanest of them will become the alpha male. (Not being sexists here, but it's pretty certain that our early ancestors were.) This male scores high on the reactive aggression scale, responding, well, aggressively to others who he instinctively views as challengers and competitors. Also within that population, there will be individuals who are less volatile, less competitive. They have a capacity to cooperate and eventually some of them do. They decide that they don't like the alpha male getting all the best fruits and females, so they get together to change the situation. The ability of these conspirators to cooperate and tromp on the alpha male signifies lower reactive aggression while, at the same time, demonstrates higher proactive aggression.
Over time, genes for reactive aggression are bred out, while genes that promote cooperative behavior, and hence proactive aggression, are favored. After several thousand generations, individuals with instinctive dispositions for nasty and brutish behaviors are reduced and those who possess a greater capacity for cooperative and scheming behaviors become the norm. This brings us to today and a species that usually gets along well with others but can, at times, excel in cruelty and sadism.
That's the in-a-nutshell version of the author's point, as I see it. I'm not sure I totally accept his argument or his definitions, and I'm quite sure that the subject of human competition and cooperation is far more complex than this, but it's a good start at an explanation. (I'm tempted to write more about this because it's a fascinating subject, but I have bills to pay and other mundane things to do today.)
I'll try to summarize his position here:
The seeming discontinuity in human nature is due to innate aggressive proclivities that evolved over time, not just in humans but in several species. Wrangham distinguishes two types. Reactive aggression is the spur of the moment, lose your temper type of anger, the kind that (after things calm down) we'd probably view as an overreaction to some minor provocation. Proactive aggression is the cold, intentional type, the kind of aggression that takes a bit of advance planning or at least some prior consideration—like deciding you want someone else's banana and laying a trap for the previous owner in order to relieve him of it. As a subset of this, he identifies coalitionary proactive aggression, which simply means that a bunch of people (or apes or prehumans or whatever) get together, pick a victim, and subject it to a very bad and often final day. From this come wars.
Humans, he says, have self-domesticated by breeding out extreme reactive aggression while breeding in a capacity for proactive aggression. This wasn't intentional, of course. There were no prehuman eugenicists or alien experimental biologists behind it, although the effect was not unlike when humans intentionally manage breeding in order to domestic animals. (There is some interesting stuff about domestication syndrome that I won't go into here because it would take a while and it's sort of beside the main point, but it is why dogs are cuter and cuddlier than wolves.)
In any population there will be some individuals who are bigger and meaner than others. Depending on the species, the biggest and meanest of them will become the alpha male. (Not being sexists here, but it's pretty certain that our early ancestors were.) This male scores high on the reactive aggression scale, responding, well, aggressively to others who he instinctively views as challengers and competitors. Also within that population, there will be individuals who are less volatile, less competitive. They have a capacity to cooperate and eventually some of them do. They decide that they don't like the alpha male getting all the best fruits and females, so they get together to change the situation. The ability of these conspirators to cooperate and tromp on the alpha male signifies lower reactive aggression while, at the same time, demonstrates higher proactive aggression.
Over time, genes for reactive aggression are bred out, while genes that promote cooperative behavior, and hence proactive aggression, are favored. After several thousand generations, individuals with instinctive dispositions for nasty and brutish behaviors are reduced and those who possess a greater capacity for cooperative and scheming behaviors become the norm. This brings us to today and a species that usually gets along well with others but can, at times, excel in cruelty and sadism.
That's the in-a-nutshell version of the author's point, as I see it. I'm not sure I totally accept his argument or his definitions, and I'm quite sure that the subject of human competition and cooperation is far more complex than this, but it's a good start at an explanation. (I'm tempted to write more about this because it's a fascinating subject, but I have bills to pay and other mundane things to do today.)
June 14, 2024
Perché c'è violenza e violenza
Il libro parte con alcuni esempî, tra cui Hitler, forse ormai l'uomo malvagio per antonomasia, che a quanto pare era gentile con la segretaria e molto affettuoso col suo cane, Blondi. Qui c'è ovviamente anche un che provocatorio, ma l'intento dell'autore è principalmente mostrare con un caso estremo come nell'essere umano coabitino senza problemi l'attenzione e i buoni sentimenti per chi ci è vicino con la crudeltà più fredda e spietata contro gli altri, di solito i nemici, magari anche da votare allo sterminio. Purtroppo il libro non scava abbastanza a fondo proprio sulla difficoltà ad ammettere questa ambiguità, difficoltà che porta molti se non quasi tutti a pensare invece che si possa dividere l'umanità tra chi è totalmente o comunque soprattutto buono e chi invece è totalmente o comunque soprattutto cattivo. Che sia difficile il contrario lo testimonia, forse involontariamente, il libro stesso, il cui titolo parla di "paradosso della bontà" e di come la relazione tra convivenza e violenza sia "strana". A quanto pare non si può fare a meno di credere che la nostra cerchia sia quella dei buoni, che la cattiveria si trovi fuori di essa, e che eventuali ambiguità siano "strane" e "paradossali".
L'autore riesce a disinnescare la domanda se l'uomo sia per natura "buono" o "cattivo" distinguendo tra due tipi di violenza, quella reattiva e quella proattiva. La prima, quella reattiva, è la violenza impulsiva, incontrollabile, frutto dello scatto del momento, che porta ad aggredire sul posto l'individuo che ci fa un affronto o che ci minaccia. La seconda, quella proattiva, è la violenza pianificata, controllata, organizzata, spesso portata avanti dal gruppo, e specie in quest'ultimo caso volta a eliminare gli individui che, a torto o a ragione, minacciano la tenuta del gruppo stesso. Sono due tipi di violenza molto diverse anche nei meccanismi cerebrali che vi sono sottesi, come l'autore mostra nel dettaglio.
L'autore afferma quindi che nell'essere umano, a paragone di altre specie di mammiferi affini, la violenza reattiva è molto limitata mentre è invece molto più diffusa la violenza proattiva. L'ipotesi è che questo sia il risultato di un processo di domesticazione o, meglio, di autodomesticazione nell'essere umano, durato migliaia di generazioni, partito sin dalla preistoria, in cui, con l'acquisizione del linguaggio, il gruppo ha imparato a coordinarsi in maniera efficace per eliminare fisicamente i membri del gruppo inclini alla violenza reattiva, che così hanno avuto sempre meno modo di lasciare discendenti. Questo meccanismo è stato invece assente in altre specie, come gli scimpanzé, dove la violenza proattiva esiste ma non è cosi efficiente come nell'uomo e dove invece la violenza reattiva è molto più diffusa.
Il libro è molto denso nel suo ragionare, ma proprio per questo solido e convincente, e offre molti spunti per andare oltre le sue stesse pagine.
Tanto per cominciare immagino che forse molti proveranno scetticismo rispetto all'idea che la violenza reattiva, quella che sembra minacciare ogni individuo più da vicino, provenendo dal prossimo ed essendo scarsamente prevedibile, sia poco diffusa nelle nostre società. Ma mi chiedo se questo scetticismo non sia proprio un portato della stessa storia raccontata dall'autore, quella della "forza schiacciante", come la definisce, assunta dalla violenza proattiva, in particolare nella forma della violenza delle istituzioni statali le quali hanno tutto l'interesse ma soprattutto la facilità, per giustificare la propria esistenza, di gonfiare se non, in determinati casi, inventare epidemie di una violenza reattiva perennemente presentata come dilagante, in aumento incontrollabile, che minaccia tutti e tutte, che necessita di rimedi drastici per essere contenuta se non direttamente stroncata. Da qui il dominio della cronaca nera e dei suoi ciclici allarmi su bullismo, baby gang, femminicidî, reati degli stranieri, e così via.
L'autore mostra inoltre come la violenza proattiva, nell'essere umano, sia tradizionalmente appannaggio soprattutto dei maschî che formano coalizioni per eliminare (proattivamente) i violenti (reattivi) e i devianti del gruppo. Questo permette di spiegare come mai anche nelle società attuali la violenza maggiormente diffusa resti quella tra uomini (nel senso di maschî) e che tradizionalmente sia proprio la destra politica, solitamente etichettata come "maschilista", a esigere le pene più dure (fino all'eliminazione fisica) proprio contro i maschî ritenuti a torto o a ragione devianti, e infine come mai tutto questo non sembri essere visto come un problema. Ma questa cecità è il frutto di un'eredità evolutiva di migliaia di generazioni in cui la violenza reattiva è stata sempre vista come la minaccia maggiore (anche quando progressivamente sempre meno diffusa) e la violenza proattiva, anche nelle sue forme peggiori come la carcerazione di massa, la pena di morte o addirittura lo sterminio, come una soluzione giusta per difendere il gruppo dai nemici interni ed esterni.
Il libro coglie comunque nelle conclusioni la portata della sfida di un'umanità che, lasciatasi alle spalle da migliaia di anni quella violenza reattiva che affligge invece altri mammiferi, ora deve affrontare qualcosa di molto più arduo, ovvero porre sotto controllo e limitare il più possibile la violenza organizzata, quella delle istituzioni, quella dello Stato, a partire dalla pena di morte, contro cui l'autore, a scanso di equivoci, oppone un deciso no. Non potrebbe avere più ragione. Ma la sfida rimane ardua proprio per la cecità di ancora molti individui nei confronti della violenza dello Stato, per la tendenza di quest'ultima a svilupparsi in cascate di eventi scarsamente governabili che portano alla persecuzione degli individui di turno variamente demonizzati e mostrificati, e per la primitiva paura che ancora domina molti cervelli nei confronti della violenza reattiva.
Il libro parte con alcuni esempî, tra cui Hitler, forse ormai l'uomo malvagio per antonomasia, che a quanto pare era gentile con la segretaria e molto affettuoso col suo cane, Blondi. Qui c'è ovviamente anche un che provocatorio, ma l'intento dell'autore è principalmente mostrare con un caso estremo come nell'essere umano coabitino senza problemi l'attenzione e i buoni sentimenti per chi ci è vicino con la crudeltà più fredda e spietata contro gli altri, di solito i nemici, magari anche da votare allo sterminio. Purtroppo il libro non scava abbastanza a fondo proprio sulla difficoltà ad ammettere questa ambiguità, difficoltà che porta molti se non quasi tutti a pensare invece che si possa dividere l'umanità tra chi è totalmente o comunque soprattutto buono e chi invece è totalmente o comunque soprattutto cattivo. Che sia difficile il contrario lo testimonia, forse involontariamente, il libro stesso, il cui titolo parla di "paradosso della bontà" e di come la relazione tra convivenza e violenza sia "strana". A quanto pare non si può fare a meno di credere che la nostra cerchia sia quella dei buoni, che la cattiveria si trovi fuori di essa, e che eventuali ambiguità siano "strane" e "paradossali".
L'autore riesce a disinnescare la domanda se l'uomo sia per natura "buono" o "cattivo" distinguendo tra due tipi di violenza, quella reattiva e quella proattiva. La prima, quella reattiva, è la violenza impulsiva, incontrollabile, frutto dello scatto del momento, che porta ad aggredire sul posto l'individuo che ci fa un affronto o che ci minaccia. La seconda, quella proattiva, è la violenza pianificata, controllata, organizzata, spesso portata avanti dal gruppo, e specie in quest'ultimo caso volta a eliminare gli individui che, a torto o a ragione, minacciano la tenuta del gruppo stesso. Sono due tipi di violenza molto diverse anche nei meccanismi cerebrali che vi sono sottesi, come l'autore mostra nel dettaglio.
L'autore afferma quindi che nell'essere umano, a paragone di altre specie di mammiferi affini, la violenza reattiva è molto limitata mentre è invece molto più diffusa la violenza proattiva. L'ipotesi è che questo sia il risultato di un processo di domesticazione o, meglio, di autodomesticazione nell'essere umano, durato migliaia di generazioni, partito sin dalla preistoria, in cui, con l'acquisizione del linguaggio, il gruppo ha imparato a coordinarsi in maniera efficace per eliminare fisicamente i membri del gruppo inclini alla violenza reattiva, che così hanno avuto sempre meno modo di lasciare discendenti. Questo meccanismo è stato invece assente in altre specie, come gli scimpanzé, dove la violenza proattiva esiste ma non è cosi efficiente come nell'uomo e dove invece la violenza reattiva è molto più diffusa.
Il libro è molto denso nel suo ragionare, ma proprio per questo solido e convincente, e offre molti spunti per andare oltre le sue stesse pagine.
Tanto per cominciare immagino che forse molti proveranno scetticismo rispetto all'idea che la violenza reattiva, quella che sembra minacciare ogni individuo più da vicino, provenendo dal prossimo ed essendo scarsamente prevedibile, sia poco diffusa nelle nostre società. Ma mi chiedo se questo scetticismo non sia proprio un portato della stessa storia raccontata dall'autore, quella della "forza schiacciante", come la definisce, assunta dalla violenza proattiva, in particolare nella forma della violenza delle istituzioni statali le quali hanno tutto l'interesse ma soprattutto la facilità, per giustificare la propria esistenza, di gonfiare se non, in determinati casi, inventare epidemie di una violenza reattiva perennemente presentata come dilagante, in aumento incontrollabile, che minaccia tutti e tutte, che necessita di rimedi drastici per essere contenuta se non direttamente stroncata. Da qui il dominio della cronaca nera e dei suoi ciclici allarmi su bullismo, baby gang, femminicidî, reati degli stranieri, e così via.
L'autore mostra inoltre come la violenza proattiva, nell'essere umano, sia tradizionalmente appannaggio soprattutto dei maschî che formano coalizioni per eliminare (proattivamente) i violenti (reattivi) e i devianti del gruppo. Questo permette di spiegare come mai anche nelle società attuali la violenza maggiormente diffusa resti quella tra uomini (nel senso di maschî) e che tradizionalmente sia proprio la destra politica, solitamente etichettata come "maschilista", a esigere le pene più dure (fino all'eliminazione fisica) proprio contro i maschî ritenuti a torto o a ragione devianti, e infine come mai tutto questo non sembri essere visto come un problema. Ma questa cecità è il frutto di un'eredità evolutiva di migliaia di generazioni in cui la violenza reattiva è stata sempre vista come la minaccia maggiore (anche quando progressivamente sempre meno diffusa) e la violenza proattiva, anche nelle sue forme peggiori come la carcerazione di massa, la pena di morte o addirittura lo sterminio, come una soluzione giusta per difendere il gruppo dai nemici interni ed esterni.
Il libro coglie comunque nelle conclusioni la portata della sfida di un'umanità che, lasciatasi alle spalle da migliaia di anni quella violenza reattiva che affligge invece altri mammiferi, ora deve affrontare qualcosa di molto più arduo, ovvero porre sotto controllo e limitare il più possibile la violenza organizzata, quella delle istituzioni, quella dello Stato, a partire dalla pena di morte, contro cui l'autore, a scanso di equivoci, oppone un deciso no. Non potrebbe avere più ragione. Ma la sfida rimane ardua proprio per la cecità di ancora molti individui nei confronti della violenza dello Stato, per la tendenza di quest'ultima a svilupparsi in cascate di eventi scarsamente governabili che portano alla persecuzione degli individui di turno variamente demonizzati e mostrificati, e per la primitiva paura che ancora domina molti cervelli nei confronti della violenza reattiva.
January 13, 2020
Edit: Bumped up the star rating because I keep coming back to the core points of this book when pondering unrelated topics.
This is a fascinating read that begins by asking why humans have such seemingly infinite potential to be good and evil, taking us down the long path of our evolution. It delves deeply into the theory of self-domestication and how it applies to humans, coming to startling conclusions that put much of human behavior and psychology into perspective. My only gripe is that the ending begins to ramble a bit on the future of our species.
This is a fascinating read that begins by asking why humans have such seemingly infinite potential to be good and evil, taking us down the long path of our evolution. It delves deeply into the theory of self-domestication and how it applies to humans, coming to startling conclusions that put much of human behavior and psychology into perspective. My only gripe is that the ending begins to ramble a bit on the future of our species.
May 5, 2019
This is the book of the year so far for me: I have not been subjected to such an illuminating paradigm change in my understanding of human nature and history for a long time. It is one of those infrequent instances when a steady accumulation of scientific progress in several unrelated fields suddenly renders a traditional philosophical debate obsolete. The first 11 chapters (out of 13) are an absolute must-read.
December 5, 2019
Oftentimes I have discussed with a friend whether egoism or altruism is more favored by evolution. The issue treated in The Goodness Paradox is closely related, namely whether violence or virtue is more favored by evolution. Of course, egoism is not always violent, and altruism may not always be virtuous, but there is enough kinship to provide insight. Are we doomed to live in a Hobbesian world, or do we actually live in a Rousseauian world?
Richard Wrangham solves the dilemma by distinguishing two kinds of violence: reactive violence and proactive violence (especially coalitionary proactive violence). Stephen Pinker caused quite a stir by arguing in The Better Angels of Our Nature that violence over the long stretch of history has steadily diminished. But many argue that with modern weapons we have the ability to inflict more violence than ever before. Wrangham’s distinction enables us to say that reactive violence, violence in reflexive, emotional encounters, has been bred out of us through a long process of evolutionary “domestication,” but that (coalitionary) proactive violence, violence which is premeditated and planned in cooperation with others, has actually been cultivated by the same evolutionary process.
Think about it. By and large, in our daily social interactions, we have learned to be polite, and not to attack each other physically, as do chimpanzees or wolves. On the other hand, our ability to plan and execute a violent course of action, either through gangs, or vigilante action, or mobs, or governmental agencies, has become sophisticated. Spontaneous emotional violence has been suppressed, but our ability to premeditate group violence has been enhanced.
The evolutionary mechanism for this branching lies in the fact that early hominid leadership was achieved by alpha leadership established through physical domination. But over the course of time, the alpha male could be defeated or controlled by a coalition of lesser males (or females) who banded together and conspired to take out the “bully.” Individual brute dominance was suppressed by the development of cooperative group action, and the “elders” came to control society rather than the tyrant.
This scenario is sketched out in much more detail and with much more evidence in the book. My main thought in response is that, while I previously thought that pacifism is what we should hope for, it is now plausible to me to think that we need to be able to contemplate coalitional violence in response to threats to the community, such as organized crime or a foreign invasion. The initiation of violence seems to have shifted from the emotions to the intellect, or even to ideology. This presents its own problems, because intellectual rationalization can be as erratic and unjust as an emotional response. We are left to be grateful that random reactive violence is reduced, while we work politically to reduce the social and institutional proactive violence which still haunts us.
Richard Wrangham solves the dilemma by distinguishing two kinds of violence: reactive violence and proactive violence (especially coalitionary proactive violence). Stephen Pinker caused quite a stir by arguing in The Better Angels of Our Nature that violence over the long stretch of history has steadily diminished. But many argue that with modern weapons we have the ability to inflict more violence than ever before. Wrangham’s distinction enables us to say that reactive violence, violence in reflexive, emotional encounters, has been bred out of us through a long process of evolutionary “domestication,” but that (coalitionary) proactive violence, violence which is premeditated and planned in cooperation with others, has actually been cultivated by the same evolutionary process.
Think about it. By and large, in our daily social interactions, we have learned to be polite, and not to attack each other physically, as do chimpanzees or wolves. On the other hand, our ability to plan and execute a violent course of action, either through gangs, or vigilante action, or mobs, or governmental agencies, has become sophisticated. Spontaneous emotional violence has been suppressed, but our ability to premeditate group violence has been enhanced.
The evolutionary mechanism for this branching lies in the fact that early hominid leadership was achieved by alpha leadership established through physical domination. But over the course of time, the alpha male could be defeated or controlled by a coalition of lesser males (or females) who banded together and conspired to take out the “bully.” Individual brute dominance was suppressed by the development of cooperative group action, and the “elders” came to control society rather than the tyrant.
This scenario is sketched out in much more detail and with much more evidence in the book. My main thought in response is that, while I previously thought that pacifism is what we should hope for, it is now plausible to me to think that we need to be able to contemplate coalitional violence in response to threats to the community, such as organized crime or a foreign invasion. The initiation of violence seems to have shifted from the emotions to the intellect, or even to ideology. This presents its own problems, because intellectual rationalization can be as erratic and unjust as an emotional response. We are left to be grateful that random reactive violence is reduced, while we work politically to reduce the social and institutional proactive violence which still haunts us.
December 25, 2019
How did humans evolve to be the world's most sociable and docile killers? We live peaceably within social groups, showing much less overt aggression than, say, chimpanzees (where fighting and aggressive displays are the norm). But between competing groups of humans, deadly fighting seems to have existed from the beginning of the hominid line, evolving along a parallel track with our in-group cooperation.
To explain the in-group/out-group split in levels of violence, Wrangham points to differences between reactive aggression (an animal's automatic response to perceived threats) and proactive aggression, which requires planning and premeditation. He posits that our ape-like ancestors gradually modified their reactive aggression by weeding out the most hair-triggered males through selective killing. (It's not clear what would have set off this process of "self domestication," but it might not have taken a major change in circumstances. Reduced competition for a secondary food source apparently was enough for bonobos to evolve into a much less aggressive species than chimpanzees, which are their -- and our -- closest relative.)
Reduced in-group aggression allowed humans to form coalitions that could carry out deadly proactive attacks (and once language evolved, they could plot elaborate ones). It also allowed coalition partners to coerce less powerful group members, thus enforcing further cooperation -- and sowing the seeds of despotism.
Wrangham makes clear that his ideas are speculative -- and we may never have enough data to test them fully. But he presents much evidence from a wide range of fields (his discussion on how domestication occurred in other species is almost a book in itself). And he provides a good starting point for further research on human social evolution.
To explain the in-group/out-group split in levels of violence, Wrangham points to differences between reactive aggression (an animal's automatic response to perceived threats) and proactive aggression, which requires planning and premeditation. He posits that our ape-like ancestors gradually modified their reactive aggression by weeding out the most hair-triggered males through selective killing. (It's not clear what would have set off this process of "self domestication," but it might not have taken a major change in circumstances. Reduced competition for a secondary food source apparently was enough for bonobos to evolve into a much less aggressive species than chimpanzees, which are their -- and our -- closest relative.)
Reduced in-group aggression allowed humans to form coalitions that could carry out deadly proactive attacks (and once language evolved, they could plot elaborate ones). It also allowed coalition partners to coerce less powerful group members, thus enforcing further cooperation -- and sowing the seeds of despotism.
Wrangham makes clear that his ideas are speculative -- and we may never have enough data to test them fully. But he presents much evidence from a wide range of fields (his discussion on how domestication occurred in other species is almost a book in itself). And he provides a good starting point for further research on human social evolution.
April 15, 2023
extra star for provoking interesting discussions.
what I've learned:
humans have self domesticated through a process that inhibited reactive aggression. we inhibited this by killing the worst bullies in a group. no, that method is no longer recommended.
also, traits that came along with extreme domestication included more feminization and extended juvenile behavior - the latter more than in any other species.
last, men grouping together in small societies have always been shitty as hell to women through physical abuse and coercion, often through religious means. unfortunately, the end of the book didn't redeem the human species, at least for me. Power is a huge problem, especially with men, and people succumb to it more than is healthy.
Truly the compassion and cooperation of humans juxtaposed with our ability to be exceedingly aggressive, including in practice ways, is a paradox.
what I've learned:
humans have self domesticated through a process that inhibited reactive aggression. we inhibited this by killing the worst bullies in a group. no, that method is no longer recommended.
also, traits that came along with extreme domestication included more feminization and extended juvenile behavior - the latter more than in any other species.
last, men grouping together in small societies have always been shitty as hell to women through physical abuse and coercion, often through religious means. unfortunately, the end of the book didn't redeem the human species, at least for me. Power is a huge problem, especially with men, and people succumb to it more than is healthy.
Truly the compassion and cooperation of humans juxtaposed with our ability to be exceedingly aggressive, including in practice ways, is a paradox.
June 6, 2025
A very persuasive just-so story about violence and nonviolence in humans based on what we know of the evolutionary record. Wrangham thinks we should consider two axes of violence: reactive violence (e.g. the sudden violent reaction to an offense) and proactive violence (planned, coordinated violence by a group). He believes that humans, since our descent from the common ancestor of humans, chimpanzees, and bonobos, have domesticated ourselves: becoming less reactively-violent than any of our cousin-species. But we did so in part by becoming more proactively violent, engaging in executions and assassinations of thugs and alpha-males who engaged in too much reactive violence. Our peculiar sense of morality and conscience, Wrangham suggests, is how we monitor ourselves to make sure we're not sticking out as a target for these proactively violent coalitions: it is in this way an individually-advantageous adaptation rather than some self-sacrificing drive.
December 10, 2024
This is obviously well-researched and this dude is clearly an expert. Not much I can say to argue with anything. Seems legit. Reads like a PhD dissertation only it’s 500 pages. My brain hurts. I get it, like the language is accessible and the concepts are complicated but not impossible for a lay person to understand. But I def need to read a slutty lil romance or something to balance out the deep academia of this book.
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