Authors: Heather Heying & Bret Weinstein
Topics: Anthropology, health, systems and complexity, societal development
All information is attributed to the authors. Except in the case where we may have misunderstood a concept and summarized it incorrectly. These notes are only for reference, and we always suggest reading from the source.
Introduction
1. The Human Niche
2. A Brief History of the Human Lineage
3. Ancient Bodies, Modern World
4. Medicine
5. Food
6. Sleep
7. Sex and Gender
8. Parenthood and Relationship
9. Childhood
10. School
11. Becoming Adults
12. Culture and Consciousness
13. The Fourth Frontier
Epilogue
We no longer rely on tight-knit communities, we fail to grasp the concept of “local knowledge” and a deeper understanding of our terrain, and we rely on global systems to feel safe. However, safety can be a façade. Our packaged food, healthcare systems, and economy do little for us.
Technology, medicine, and education developments have accelerated dramatically, changing our geographic, social, and personal environments with them. The positive effects they have brought have made it difficult to understand the complex problems due to their whirlwind entrance. This change is hyper-novel, and the adaptability that helped us develop it and take over the world can no longer keep up with the rate of change.
Science is a method that oscillates between induction and deduction. We observe patterns, propose explanations, and test them to see how well they predict things. When we do scientific work correctly, our models predict more than before, assume less, and fit with other models.
As cells begin to function in coordinated ways, becoming organisms made up of distinct tissues, the degree of mystery compounds. The unpredictability jumps again in animals, governed by sophisticated neurological feedback that themselves investigate and predict the world, and once again as animals become social and begin to pool their understanding and divide their labor.
First-principles are those assumptions that cannot be deduced from any other assumption. They are foundational (like axioms in math), so thinking from first principles is a powerful mechanism for inferring truth and a worthy goal if you are interested in fact over fiction.
The Human Paradox
Unrivaled in our adaptability, ingenuity, and exploitative capacity, we have come to specialize in everything for hundreds of thousands of years. We enjoy the competitive advantage of being specialists without paying the usual costs of a lack of breadth. This is the paradox of the human niche.
Campfire
The campfire is a place to share ideas, talk, laugh, cry, and deliberate over challenges. When minds come together, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts in nearly every case. We need multitudes of people plugging in and parallel processing to survive the future. Joining minds in this way exponentially increases the ability of humans to solve problems.
Consciousness and culture are in tension with each other, and humans need both. Conscious thoughts are those that can be communicated to others. Therefore, we define consciousness as “that fraction of cognition that is packaged for exchange.”
Our consciousness likely evolved in parallel with collective consciousness and would become fully realized only later in our evolution. Understanding what is in the mind of another, known as the theory of mind, is helpful. We can accurately pass a complex abstraction from one mind to another by simply vibrating the air between us (speech/sound).
For the theory of mind to function, one needs to run an emulation of the other person within one’s own head. For me to benefit from a comparison between what I think and what I understand you to think, I am all but required to have a subjective experience of both you and me—to bring the two into a single currency. Shared consciousness is an emergent, intangible space between people, where concepts are lodged and co-cultivated. Each participant has a distinct perspective on the space, much as each witness to a physical event will have a somewhat different vantage point, but the space is a property of the collective.
Culture versus Consciousness
Consciousness is valuable for problem-solving but not great at execution. To be in the flow of things, you need to have behaviors and habits ingrained to let the conscious mind out of the way. These can be understood as traditions or cultures that a tribe member carries out intuitively by not questioning or rebuilding. When we have issues that our current understanding can’t accomplish, that’s when the conscious mind comes into its own.
When times are good, people should be reluctant to change (comparatively conservative). When things aren’t so good, they should be more willing to confront the risks of change (comparatively progressive).
Humans Break:
The human niche is niche switching.
Adaptation and Lineage
Fitness is about reproduction and persistence. A successful population can ebb and flow, but extinction is a failure.
Whether cultural, genetic, or a mixture of the two, sex roles inherited from a long line of ancestors are biological solutions to evolutionary problems. They are, in short, adaptations that function to facilitate and ensure lineage persistence into the future.
Currently, some people, and even some scientists, are in denial of potential adaptations that may appear to be ugly—refusing to investigate anything that might not be positive in the current cultural context.
The Omega Principle
Epigenetic means “above the genome.” Culture sits “above” the genome in the sense that it shapes the way the genome is expressed. Genes describe proteins and processes that construct a body. Culture has a powerful influence on where bodies go and what they do. In this way, culture is a regulator of genome expression.
The term is now almost exclusively used to refer to mechanisms that molecularly regulate the expression of the genome, expressing some traits while suppressing others, creating the patterns of gene expression that give the body a coherent form and function. These regulatory mechanisms are the key to understanding multicellular life. Without these mechanisms, all cells with a given genome would be alike, and any extensive collection of cells could exist only as a colony of undifferentiated cells. Only through the tight epigenetic regulation of gene expression can we have an animal or a plant composed of well-coordinated, distinct, multicellular tissues.
A single evolutionary rule governs both molecular and cultural regulators of gene expression. Cultural behavior may restrain the actions of a being, which in turn affects gene expression.
The brain that picks up culture is extensive and energetically expensive to run; the process of transmitting culture is prone to error; and the content of human culture frequently blocks off fitness-enhancing opportunities—thou shalt not kill, steal, covet, lay with, etc. Culture appears to waste time, energy, and resources that would otherwise be at the genome’s disposal. One might get the impression that civilization is effectively parasitizing the genome.
But the genome is in the driver’s seat. A capacity for culture is nearly universal in birds and mammals; it has been elaborated, enhanced, and extended by genomic evolution over time; and it is at its most extreme in humans. These facts tell us that whatever culture does, it is not coming at a cost to genetic fitness. Instead, it enhances fitness in dramatic ways. If culture were not paying its way, the genes whose expression it is modifying would either go extinct or evolve to be immune to culture.
Omega Principle:
Any expensive and long-lasting cultural trait (such as traditions passed down within a lineage for thousands of years) should be presumed to be adaptive.
There Are Several Human Universals
All humans have language. We can distinguish self from others and distinguish self as a subject from self as an object. We use facial expressions that are both general and nuanced, which include happiness, sadness, anger, fear, surprise, disgust, and contempt. We don’t just use tools; we use tools to make more tools. We live in or under shelter. We live in groups, usually with family, and adults are expected to help socialize children. Children observe elders and copy them. We also learn by trial and error. We have status, governed by rules stemming from kinship, age, sex, and beyond. We have rules of succession and markers of hierarchy. We engage in division of labor. Reciprocity is important, both in the positive sense—barn raising for neighbors, exchanging gifts—and in the negative— retaliation for perceived wrongs. We trade. We predict and plan for the future, or at least we try to. We have law and leaders, although both may be situational or ephemeral. We have rituals, religious practices, and standards of sexual modesty. We admire hospitality and generosity. We have an aesthetic, which we apply to our bodies, hair, and environment. We know how to dance. We make music. We play.
The first single-celled organism had no nucleus. It had no sex. It made its energy, perhaps by converting sunlight into food, as modern plants do, perhaps by converting inorganic molecules, such as ammonia or carbon dioxide, into food.
Two billion years ago, our replicating material became encased in nuclei, allowing DNA to organize itself, such that careful unpacking, at the right moments, would trigger cascading events. Organelles within cells separated cellular functions from one another, microtubules and motor proteins began transporting cellular material around.
A long time later, we began to associate more permanently with one another, combining forces and becoming multicellular individuals rather than clusters of aggregated cells. Specialization was crossing scales. Organelles within cells had long since innovated specialization—chloroplasts for photosynthesis, mitochondria for power— but the specialization had stopped at the cell boundary. Now, with multicellular organisms, life was leveling up. The particular way that we have evolved to be heterotrophs, to take the energy of others for our own.
Organisms, all of us, need to respire, to take in nutrients and excrete waste, to reproduce. The larger the organism, the more likely other things are needed, too: a plumbing system to move things around within the body; a control center—or centers—within which information is collected, interpreted, and acted upon.
More than six hundred million years ago, we became multicellular individuals who steal energy from those who make it from the sun—we became animals.
Other traits evolve once and then stick, suggesting that their value is nearly universal. No organisms that once evolved bony internal skeletons have since evolved a lifestyle without them. The same holds for neurons and hearts. The evolution of sexual reproduction—isn’t quite so clean a story, but it is nearly so. One eukaryotic lineage known on earth once had sexual reproduction and has since lost it. But the lineage to which we belong is one long, uninterrupted string of sexual reproduction for at least the last five hundred million years.
Five hundred million years ago, we evolved a centralized heart and brain, where before there were multiple centers for pumping and pressurizing blood and various centers for neural processing. With a single brain to organize inputs, we also developed more ways to sense our world. With no jaws and bones, their little brains work hard to find hosts to latch on to and parasitize.
Teeth and jaws evolved, and both proved helpful. As did myelin, which coats the outside of neurons and allows the transmission of neurological signals to increase in speed: with myelin, our ability to move, feel, and think got faster.
Four hundred forty. Our million years ago, many fish were armored with sheets of bone on the outside of their bodies, but nobody yet on Earth had an internal bony skeleton.
When bone, a molecular relative of teeth, showed up as internal skeletal material, rather than as armor, replacing the cartilage that came before it, we became Osteichthyes—bony fishes. We are nucleate, heterotrophic, vertebral, brainy, bony fish.
Three hundred eighty million years ago, some of us fish made a go of it in shallow water, near land. We were tetrapods. Some of our fins began to seem more like limbs than fins, their bony, muscular extensions became our hands and feet, our fingers and toes. Moving onto land, though, is hard. Everything from holding yourself up and not being crushed by gravity to the different ways that light, sound, and odors travel in the air compared to water needed to be dealt with in this new world. Nearly every system needed to be retooled.
These early tetrapods (amphibians) stayed close to water. The individuals that ventured far from water took significant risks in doing so; those that did not perish found landscapes uninhabited by other vertebrates and abundant food. Our amphibian ancestors spread across the land, a hot, humid landscape in which the world’s first forests were forming, and in many dank corners, giant millipedes and scorpions scuttled and roamed.
Three hundred million years ago -Pangaea was a lush, warm world of abundant plants and giant insects. Even the poles of the planet were free of ice then. Into this world emerged a new egg. The old egg was fragile and straightforward—it is the egg still used by salmon and salamanders, frogs, and flounder. However, this new egg, the amniotic egg, had so many protective and nourishing layers that individuals could move their lives farther from freshwater. Finally, we were free of needing such large amounts of water.
Some reptiles lost their teeth and grew shells, and we call them turtles. Some reptiles developed forked tongues and paired penises, and we call most of them lizards. Later, some lizards lost their legs, and some of those legless lizards are what we now call snakes. Some reptiles became dinosaurs, and some dinosaurs became birds.
Many species of birds have long lives, long developmental periods, high rates of monogamy, and bonds between individuals that last several seasons, even a lifetime. Some pair-bonded birds duet with each other so tightly that it can be difficult to tell that more than one bird is singing. The same can be said of some pairs of humans.
Mammals developed mammary glands. Except for a few odd duck-billed platypuses and echidnas at the base of the mammal tree, we mammals have gestation and live birth as well. Parental care, at least from mom, has now become unavoidable. Communication between mother and embryo in utero takes many forms—primarily chemical. After birth, some mammal mothers merely provide milk, a source of rich immunological, developmental, and nutritional information, but most also protect and teach their offspring. More were likely to follow once some parental care was mandated by anatomy and physiology.
Sometime back when dinosaurs still reigned, primates emerged from the mammalian ranks. Against the odds, our primate ancestors managed to survive the mass extinction sixty-five million years ago.
Twenty-five to thirty million years ago, apes evolved from monkeys. One of the innovations of apes is brachiation—we swing well.
More than six million years ago, our ancestors (Homo) split from the ancestors of chimps and bonobos (Pan), who are our closest relatives living today. It would be millions of years yet before modern humans would evolve, or before modern chimps or bonobos would evolve, either, but the question of what our most recent common ancestor looked like is an intriguing one. One way to approach it is to imagine that it was either more chimp-like or more bonobo-like.
Chimps tend toward war rather than peace and are often found fighting at the edges of their territories. Bonobos, in comparison, tend toward peace rather than war. At the boundaries of their territories, they’re more likely to be sharing food with another troop than beating up on each other. But humans engage in both war and peace. Whether we take up arms when strangers show up at our door, or provide alms and invite them in to share food with us, is highly variable across cultures and contexts.
Three million years ago, North and South America came together, forming the Isthmus of Panama, closing the connection between the Pacific and the Atlantic Oceans. No hominins were anywhere close to the Western Hemisphere at that time, so wholly unhindered by us, the flora and fauna of the Americas began to interchange, with camelids moving south and ultimately evolving into the llamas and alpacas of the Andes; marsupials moving north, most of which went extinct, with just one small lineage of opossums left to represent marsupials throughout the New World.
Two hundred thousand years ago, the bodies and brains of our common ancestor were those of a fully modern human.
By forty thousand years ago, many populations of people were engaged in hunting and gathering that was even more cooperative and forward-looking. From that time, the archaeological record begins to show evidence of burial of the dead, personal ornamentation, including the use of skin pigment, and both parietal and portable art, including musical instruments.
Our clean, square, and climate-controlled environments may be impairing our abilities to distinguish certain visual input, such as knowing that the illusion of two identical-sized lines with opposing arrowheads are, in fact, the same size. Alternatively, we can think of this deficit as an adaptation to our environment rather than a loss. This unnatural symmetry has restructured our WEIRD brains.
Lactose is apparently a functional substitute for vitamin D in promoting the uptake of calcium, which is rare at the poles. Among the desert people, digesting milk allowed them to avoid dehydration. Lactase persistence was born of a particular environmental condition, which moved onto a genetic layer.
The false nature versus nurture dichotomy is disruptive, as it interferes with a more nuanced understanding of what we are and the evolutionary forces that have brought us here. The change in susceptibility to optical illusions seen in WEIRD countries is no less evolutionary than the change in the ability to digest dairy in European and Bedouin peoples. The latter has a genetic component, and we have no reason to think that the first one does. Yet they are both equally evolutionary.
Carpentered corners create greater susceptibility to certain optical illusions. Overreliance on chairs creates all manner of adverse health outcomes. What, then, might deodorants and perfumes have done to our ability to smell the signals emitted by our bodies? What might clocks have done to our sense of time? What have airplanes done to our sense of space or the internet to our sense of competence? What have maps done to our sense of direction or schools to our sense of family?
Adaptation and Chesterton’s Fence
Three-part Test of Adaptation
If a trait
Then it is presumed to be an adaptation.
This model can produce false negatives, but not false positives. Revealing the sufficient but not necessary evidence that something is an adaptation. There will always be exceptions, such as the loss of pigment in a polar bear’s fur or hair loss on a naked mole-rat, but it is due to energy cost saving.
Let’s try the test on the human appendix.
The hygiene hypothesis posits that because we live in ever-cleaner surroundings and are exposed to fewer microorganisms, our immune systems are inadequately prepared and develop regulatory problems, such as allergies, autoimmune disorders, and perhaps even some cancers. Our immune systems are not functioning as they evolved to do because we have cleansed our environments too thoroughly.
If we can’t see the use of something, we should not clear it away until we know of its function.
Trade-offs
There are two types of trade-offs:
Humans have avoided this trap by building outside of ourselves. We are a broadly generalist species, with the capacity for individuals—and cultures—to go deep and specialize in myriad contexts and skillsets.
But for all of our cleverness, we can’t evade all trade-offs. Presuming that we can is one mistake of Cornucopianism, which imagines a world so full of both resources and human ingenuity that, magically, trade-offs no longer rule. Related to Cornucopianism, or perhaps fueling it, is the fact that the Sucker’s Folly can create the illusion that we have conquered trade-offs by blinding us with the richness and opulence of our short-term gains. This is a mirage. The trade-offs are still there, and the cost for all that wealth will be paid, either by those who live elsewhere or by our descendants.
Trade-offs are unavoidable, but this has a tremendous upside: it drives the evolution of diversity.
Everyday Costs and Pleasures
We moderns have a hard time imagining the risks worth taking to find more food, the lengths one might reasonably go to protect what they have, and the value that might accompany technological innovations that allow people to stretch the value of food they have already acquired.
While we tend to think that the goal of cooking is to make food taste better, much of the world’s many culinary traditions have more practical goals—detoxifying foods, amplifying their nutritional value, and protecting them from microbial competitors as we carry them across space or preserve them over time. We salt and smoke meats to ensure that microorganisms that attempt to steal them will die of dehydration. We make fruit preserves with high sugar concentrations for much the same reason. We pasteurize and freeze perishable vegetables to kill the microbes already on them and exclude all newcomers.
Milk evolved to nourish babies straight from their mothers’ mammary glands. As such, milk is full of nutrients. But because milk is meant to be consumed immediately, with little or no contact with the outside world, milk has no defense against environmental bacteria. We moderns must go to extreme lengths—pasteurization, hermetic sealing followed by refrigeration—just to preserve milk for a week or two. An ancestor who needed to preserve milk over a long and unproductive winter required a better solution.
We are all born with basic rules of thumb about what we should and shouldn’t eat. A peach smells good. A clam that has been sitting in the sun smells terrible. Grilled meat smells good. Carrion smells bad. These rules are an initial guess at the net value of potential food, but if one stops there, then a lot of nutritious, edible things will be missed.
Our long-evolved warning system—if it smells terrible, be wary—is unreliable in two ways: (1) many solvents smell good to some people, and (2) smelling them is sufficient to cause physiological harm.
Our detectors for CO2 are so ancient and deeply wired that even people with brain damage to the amygdala, such that they never panic under other fear-inducing circumstances, find themselves triggered into panic by high concentrations of CO2. By comparison with CO2, carbon monoxide (CO) is extremely dangerous: it binds to hemoglobin, displaces oxygen, and brings on a quiet sleep from which people do not wake. Why, then, do we have an internal detector for CO2, which is dangerous at high densities but nontoxic, but we don’t have a sensor for carbon monoxide, a deadly toxin?
Smell is no longer a sufficient early warning system for hazards because detection and harm are now simultaneous in many cases. We face novel levels of novelty, and selection simply can’t keep up.
The Corrective Lens
Heather would often get strep throat and then develop laryngitis as an adult. She gave this presentation via text to her students:
The medical profession’s response to my frequent laryngitis is that I really ought to take some pharmaceuticals and then some more to counteract the side effects of the first ones. Why those pharmaceuticals? Because in some cases, they reduce some instances of inflammation that can cause laryngitis. What are the shared symptoms between those cases and mine? The medical professionals don’t know. Furthermore, they don’t seem to care. Just take the drugs, they advise.
I don’t do as they ask.
The treatment of the vast majority of medical complaints with drugs, rather than with actual diagnosis, weakens the ability of the medical system even to make a diagnosis. It also pollutes the data stream: who knows who is sick with what, and from what origin? If so, many people are on pharmaceuticals with unknown side effects.
When I show up on the doorstep of the medical establishment with laryngitis again, they ask me, “Are you on our drugs?” When I tell them no, they abdicate all responsibility? If I won’t just follow directions, how can they help me?
Following directions when the people giving them seem to have no idea what they’re doing or why is neither honorable nor intelligent. The medical system has been reluctant to take up evolutionary thinking, opting instead for pharmaceutical fixes that often create new problems and mask rather than cure the old ones. Anything with a simple biochemical switch would almost certainly have been “solved” by selection by now if it were possible without triggering unacceptable trade-offs and if the “problem” being solved were a problem.
Against Reductionism
The modern approach to medicine (practically reductionist) reveals itself clearly in scientism. Friedrich Hayek observed that, too often, the methods and language of science are imitated by institutions and systems not engaged in science. The resulting efforts are generally not scientific at all. Not only do we see words like theory and analysis wrapped around distinctly untheoretical and unanalyzed (and often unanalyzable) ideas, but—worse—we see the rise of a kind of fake numeracy, in which anything that can be counted is, and once you have a measurement, you tend to forgo all further analysis.
Once we have a proxy for something, we think we know it. This is particularly true if the proxy is quantifiable, no matter how flawed those numbers might be. Furthermore, once we have a category, we often stop looking outside the categories for meaning, as our formal system of carrots and sticks exists solely within the categories.
This is the engineer’s approach to what humans are, and it vastly underappreciates how complex and variable we are. Everyone is susceptible to this error: We look for metrics. Once we find one that is both measurable and relevant to the system we are trying to affect, we mistake it for the appropriate metric—calories, psych drugs, etc. We also forget that our bodies are variable and that as long as a system works (blood vessels traveling different paths to the same place), it doesn’t matter.
Considering the Risks of Reductionism as We Choose What to Put in Our Bodies
We often mistake an effect (e.g., an action, a treatment, a molecule) to understand the impact. What a thing does and what we think (or know) that it does, are not the same thing. An example is believing vanillin is the same as vanilla or that THC or CBD is similar to marijuana. The parts are different from the whole.
From fluoridated drinking water to shelf-stable foods with unintended consequences, from the myriad issues with sun exposure, to whether GMOs are safe—we are constantly seduced by reductionist thinking, led astray by the fantasy of simplicity where the truth is complex. Reductionism, particularly concerning our bodies and minds, is harming us.
Early in the 20th century, fluoride was correlated with fewer cavities. So, fluoride was put in many municipal water supplies to decrease tooth decay. The fluoride in drinking water is a by-product of industrial processes, though not a molecular form that appears in nature or has ever been part of our diet. Furthermore, we find neurotoxicity in children exposed to fluoridated drinking water, a correlation between hypothyroidism and fluoridated water, and, in salmon, a loss of the ability to navigate back to their home stream after swimming in fluoridated water. The quest for magic bullets, for simple answers universally applicable to all humans in all conditions, is misguided. If it were that easy, selection would almost certainly have found a way. Look for the hidden costs.
Are some GMOs safe? Almost certainly. Are all GMOs safe? Almost certainly not. How will we know which are which, and can we rely on those who have created them to be vigilant on our behalf? Until we know the answer to those last questions, the Precautionary principle suggests steering clear.
Surgery, antibiotics, and vaccines—are firmly rooted in a reductionist tradition and have saved millions of lives. The problem we are highlighting is the overapplication of a reductionist approach. The germ theory of disease led to the discovery and formulation of antibiotics, a vast health boon for humanity. Then we overgeneralized and imagined that all microbes are harmful to us.
Just as people are falling ill from lacking healthy microbiomes due to over-prescription of antibiotics, so too are our livestock. Furthermore, there are unintended side effects of many antibiotics, such as Heather’s personal experience of receiving a ruptured Achilles tendon. It is now understood that tendon and ligament injury is one side effect of Cipro (and all of the antibiotics in that class, the fluoroquinolones), which Heather took in quantity in the 1990s to ward off GI bugs while conducting research in the tropics.
From fluoridated drinking water to antifungals in shelf-stable food, from sunscreen to the overuse of antibiotics—over and over, we make the same kinds of mistakes. Combine reductionism with a tendency to overgeneralize in a hyper-novel world where quick but expensive and potentially dangerous fixes are common. We have explained some of the significant errors of modern health and medicine.
Bringing Evolution Back to Medicine
Ernst Mayr, one of the 20th century’s great evolutionary biologists, formalized the distinction between proximate and ultimate levels of explanation. In attempting to tease apart cause and effect in biology, he distinguishes two branches within biology, which many scientists themselves may not be aware of.
How questions—proximate levels of analysis, questions of mechanism—are more easily pointed to, observed, and quantified than the underlying question of why mechanism has become most of what is studied in science and medicine. How questions also tend to be what the media reports, in breathless sound bites. Too often, these proximate questions are imagined to be the level at which scientific conversation needs to be had. This serves nobody—not those interested in the study of why, nor those interested in the study of how.
Combine a tendency to engage only proximate questions with a bias toward reductionism, and you end up with medicine that has blinders on. Even the great victories of Western medicine—surgery, antibiotics, and vaccines—have been over-extrapolated, applied in many cases where they shouldn’t be.
Those who break bones often get them put in a cast. This immobilizes it and causes the muscle to atrophy. For some situations, a splint is all you need. The recovery process happens much quicker, and the pain subsides quicker without the blunting of excessive pain medication. The pain, heat, and swelling of an injury is communication about your progress. As long as you don’t die of infection or by being eaten by carnivores (our ancestors’ typical problems), your bones should heal. If you need surgical intervention to fix the break, that’s advisable. Just don’t expect a reductionist approach to solve the whole issue. Modern medicine can be lifesaving. That doesn’t mean it can completely replace the body’s healing response.
Whom to Believe in the Era of Reductionism and Hyper-Novelty
Relying on cultural rules and reductionist thinking instead of consciousness is much more energy-efficient. However, in this time of hyper-novelty, we must be more flexible to avoid being led around. Due to their wavering demands, many people’s faith in authority has been shaken after recent events.
We need a less reductionist approach while still taking advantage of what great solutions we have engineered in the past. We need to use the hammer when a nail is the problem, rather than be forced to use a hammer for all situations.
The Corrective Lens
What is the Best Diet for Humans?
People on entirely raw food diets are often undernourished, especially if those diets are also vegan. They are generally thin, but that thinness is not inherently healthy.
Others argue for the health of the paleo diet: a diet free of grains and most carbohydrates, and high in fat. This may well be a healthy diet for some people. But those who come from lineages whose cuisine is rich in carbohydrates—people from the northern Mediterranean, for instance—may not be best served or most healthy on such a diet. Furthermore, there is growing evidence that early humans were eating a diet rich in carbohydrates from starchy underground vegetables—relatives of which include the African wild potato—as much as 170,000 years ago.
They imply that there is a fixed and universal answer to the question of what one should eat. Differences in individual development will render some foods healthy for one person, less so for her neighbor. Demographics such as what sex and age will affect what food is best for you. Cultural differences, which are often based in geography, may well affect your optimal diet. And those cultural differences may have moved into the gene layer, reflecting population-level genetic predispositions to particular foods —as with the lactase persistence of European pastoralists and Saharan Bedouin.
The second misguided assumption that many such diets reveal is that they seem to presume that food is merely for survival. Food is more than nutrients, vitamins, and calories. Humans no longer eat merely to satisfy energetic requirements, any more than we have sex just to make babies.
Real food is that in which the base ingredients are recognizable as coming from a living organism (there are just a few exceptions, like salt).
Fast food tastes good to many people because it successfully games our sense of taste, accessing single notes—fatty, salty, sweet—in a reliable, uniform way that can be triggered anytime you order the same thing at any one of hundreds of identical stores. By contrast, a plate of carne asada, rice, and beans, with freshly made tortillas, pico de gallo, guacamole, and pickled vegetables from a local taco stand or from your own kitchen, will always be more nutritious. If your palate is conditioned for these “real foods” you will most likely find them to be more delicious too.
First, the parts of a given system that we have turned into pills are usually not descriptive of the whole system. Second, there is often emergence in the combination of food in its less processed form, such that our bodies can use food more effectively than it can use pills. This is especially true for those foods that have a long culinary history together—such as the “three sisters” of corn, beans, and squash traditionally eaten by Mesoamerican peoples. When these foods are eaten together, they constitute a complete protein. Such a long culinary history points to the human discovery, usually unconscious, that just as “smells good” was a good proxy for “good for you” until recently, so too was “tastes good” a good proxy for “good for you.”
In the Andes, quinoa and potatoes were generally on the menu; in the fertile crescent of Mesopotamia, wheat and olives were among the foods domesticated early; in sub-Saharan Africa, sorghum and guinea yams were significant early agricultural successes. There was meat, sometimes, in short-lived abundance. There was fruit, seasonally, also in abundance. There was alcohol, intermittently, and botanically created stimulants, in some places. In those places, those stimulants were a regular but low-key part of life. Even the ratio of macronutrients is not stable between cultures—Inuit have a high-fat, high-protein diet, with almost no carbohydrates, which is unlike almost any diet that evolved closer to the equator. Given such variation, the idea of a universally best human diet seems patently absurd.
A reductionist, nutrient-centric approach to food fails to allow for celebration, or for grief, both of which are often accomplished through food. It fails to recognize and remember cultural tradition, and to consider flavors that have come together through serendipity and experimentation. Cuisines old and new reflect both their terroir—the land from which they emerged—and their borrowing from other cultures and places.
Humans do not just need protein and potassium and vitamin C. We generally need those things in the food context in which our ancestors ate them. We also need culture and connection. When we sit down to eat a meal together, especially when we are breaking bread that we have ourselves made, we gain far more than calories.
Tools, Fire, and Cooking
After our split from a chimp-like ancestor, over six million years ago, our tool-making abilities began to flourish and diversify. By 3.3 million years ago, our ancestors were using stone tools. Two and a half million years ago, our ancestors were using stone tools to butcher the carcasses of animals they had hunted or scavenged, and to extract marrow from the bones.
Our ancestors may have been controlling fire for more than a million and a half years. Fire provides warmth and light, a warning and protection against dangerous animals, and a beacon to friends. A little later on in our relationship with controlled fire, we began to use it to boil water and make it potable, to eradicate pests, to dry our clothes, to temper metal with which to make tools. With fire we can see one another and our work at night, and we may gather around it, telling stories or making music. There are no known human cultures without fire, although early reports from anthropologists, missionaries, and explorers often made claims to the contrary.
One of the many advantages of cooking is that it makes our food safer by reducing risks from parasites and pathogens. Cooking also detoxifies some plants, making foods available that would otherwise be inedible to us. It reduces spoilage, such that we can store food for longer, and allows us to open and mash otherwise impenetrable foods.
Cooking increases the amount of energy that our bodies can obtain from food. To obtain sufficient calories from a raw food diet like that of our extant wild ape relatives, humans would have to chew for five hours every day. Cooked food is an economical and efficient use of hard-earned food resources, freeing up both time and energy for other things.
Being able to take fire with us also opened up territory that was colder than anything we could have survived without it, allowing for exploration of the entire globe.
Persuading Wild Foods to Team Up with Us
Milk is produced by mammal mothers to feed their young. Fruit is a plant’s way of enticing animals to disperse its seeds—blackberry bushes attract birds and deer and rabbits, and the blackberry bushes achieve their evolutionary goals when those animals feast on berries, wander off, and poop out the seeds, now rich with fertilizer. And nectar is a plant’s way of encouraging pollination—blueberry bushes lure bees of many species with the promise of a sweet reward, and the plant achieves its evolutionary goal of reproducing when a bee carries pollen from one flower to another.
Seeds don’t want to be eaten. Leaves don’t want to be eaten. And certainly, food that requires that we kill entire organisms to eat it—the flesh of animals, be it cow, salmon, or crab—does not want to be eaten. Yet over millennia, we have persuaded many wild foods to team up with us. Those that are persuadable may become susceptible to horticulture, agriculture, animal husbandry. We are, in some cases, coevolving with them.
Our domestication of corn, potatoes, wheat, cattle, pigs, and chickens has increased their populations dramatically. They have a good evolutionary deal, just not an individual one.
Loaves and Fishes
In what is now Jordan, the ancient Natufians were making and eating bread at least four thousand years before they were farming. From wild seeds that were precursors to modern wheat (einkorn), and from the roots of tubers, the Natufians made flour, which they then cooked into flatbreads, perhaps in preparation for travel. Flatbreads have the comparative advantages over raw seeds and tubers of being lightweight, highly nutritious, and transportable, as well as having a long shelf life.
Domestication of farmed species further allows for humans to select for those things that we value, and select against those things that we don’t, such as toxins the plant has put on board to keep organisms from eating it.
In China, pottery existed for ten thousand years before farming. The pottery was almost certainly used for cooking of both hunted and gathered materials. Ceramic crocks were probably used to carry and store water and raw foods. Perhaps they were also used as vessels for fermenting or preserving foods, including the production of alcoholic beverages. Modern humans think of alcohol primarily as a social lubricant, but it is in fact an excellent, calorie-rich way to preserve food that would otherwise spoil. Beer is, in many regards, a liquid loaf of bread.
Agriculture, once it took hold in societies around the world, tended to bring about huge changes in human culture. Just a few of these changes include a shift to permanent settlements and sedentary lifestyles from a more migratory, nomadic existence; greater specialization by individuals, including the rise of full-time craft specialists, which then would have allowed for the elaboration and expansion of trades, arts, and sciences; increases in commerce and other aspects of economy; the formalization of political structures; an increase in wealth disparities between individuals; and changes in gender roles.
Stone tools, fire, and cooking have all been linked to changes in human anatomy and social structure; similarly, the consumption of fish, turtles, and other coastal foods may have been instrumental in the development of our large brains. Coastal and riverine fishing is less dangerous and more accessible to people without sophisticated tools and communal hunting techniques than is the hunting of large terrestrial mammals. Considerable evidence suggests that we migrated along coastlines for well over one hundred thousand years, which is consistent with aquatic fauna having been an important part of our diet.
Those who have at least some relationship with the origin of their food—whether they grow it themselves, pick berries on occasion, or strike up conversations with the growers at their local farmers market—are more likely to value its complexity, the value of terroir, and the constant sharing between culinary traditions.
Harvest Feast
Carrying capacity, the maximum number of individuals that can be supported in a given environment, at a given time, looks stable when you are zoomed out, looking across generations, or eons. Zoom in, though, and the perturbations in carrying capacity can be extreme, a parameter that oscillates wildly the closer you are in space and time. For agriculturalists, this looks like boom years and bust years: For every year that harvests overperform median expectations, there is another year that falls below the median. If birth rate were to track the noisy annual fluctuations in harvest, in half of all years there would not be enough to go around. Such years are naturally ones of conflict and division; long term, this is the death knell for a lineage. The solution involves productively spending excess resource so that it does not get converted into more babies, which will embody an unmeetable demand. Feasts are one such manifestation. By investing in community cohesion, rather than new mouths, a population can avoid the regular and predictable calamity created by the variance in harvests.
The Corrective Lens
During slow-wave sleep, our brains fix memories in place—as do the brains of great apes, including chimpanzees.5 Our brains also prune out old and redundant information during slow-wave sleep and gain mastery over skills that we learn while awake—typing, skiing, calculus. Hence the adage to “sleep on it.”
REM sleep, the newcomer in evolutionary time, provides us our dreams. During REM sleep, we engage in emotional regulation, reflect on what has happened, look forward to what might be possible, and imagine both possible pasts and futures. REM is a creative state; it is sleep’s explorer mode.
Dreams and Hallucinations
As it turns out, a list of symptoms of a person with schizophrenia has a suspicious overlap with a person asleep and dreaming: all of us enter this state every night, even though not everyone reaches out through that state and talks in their sleep. We do not regularly draw this parallel, because our dream state usually comes with paralysis and amnesia. Any confrontations with reality are blissfully hidden from us by the time we get to our morning coffee.
Secondary compound is a loosely defined botanical term for a substance that is not functional within the organism that produces it. Rather, it is intended to interact with pathways in other creatures, often in a hostile way. The irritants in poison ivy are an obvious deterrent to herbivores eating those leaves. Similarly, potatoes and the other nightshades contain endogenous pesticides, a class of compounds known as glycoalkaloids that are highly toxic to humans. In contrast to those pure poisons and irritants, consider these secondary compounds:
Novelty and Sleep Disruption
We are ill-equipped to know when the level of light we are being exposed to is outside of normal. While daylight is bright and tends toward the blue end of the visible spectrum, and moonlight and firelight are dim and tend toward the red end of the spectrum, indoor lighting is typically brighter than either moonlight or firelight, and far bluer than, but not as bright as, daylight. This has the potential to interfere with circadian rhythms and hormonal cycles, and therefore to cause sleep disruptions.
Humans have such a long history with fire that our pineal glands are well equipped to encounter red, fire-spectrum light well past sundown, without negative consequences for sleep. Being able to turn on blue, day-spectrum light at any moment, however, is a brand-new phenomenon, one for which we are less well adapted.
Eradicating daylight-spectrum light from the night might have a curative impact on some people who are experiencing debilitating psychological disorders, those who suffer from daytime delusions, paranoia, hallucinations—those who are, it might be said, having their dream state intrude on their waking day.
Many organisms, especially far from the equator, use photoperiod as a clock. It is used to schedule such things as germination and bud formation in plants; and mating season, molting, and embryonic development in animals. And animals as distantly related as crows, eels, and butterflies have difficulty migrating when artificial light is present.
Corrective Lens
Some of the population-level differences that have long been attributed to men and women turn out to be mutable—women should not be confined to healing or teaching professions, nor men to ones requiring brute strength or raw ambition. Recognizing these things does not mean, however, that we are the same at the population level. For instance, “Men are taller than women” is a true statement about averages.
An average difference does not imply that all members of population Y (men) are taller than all members of population Z (women). True statements about populations do not manifest in all individuals in those populations; believing otherwise is falling prey to the “fallacy of division” (first described by Aristotle). In populations where the overlap of a trait is significant, it can be difficult to parse population-level patterns from individual experience.
If you, as an individual, do not fit a particular pattern, the discrepancy can feel like evidence that the pattern is false, but that feeling does not make it so.
Female doctors are more likely to go into pediatrics; men are more likely to become surgeons. In retail, men are more likely to sell cars, women are more likely to sell flowers. And while retail jobs in the US were split nearly evenly between men and women in 2019, wholesale jobs skewed strongly male. In tasks that require physical strength, men, on average, are simply stronger. An all-female force engaging in hand-to-hand combat would not beat an all-male one, and it would be beyond foolish to pretend otherwise.
We should also not expect that men and women will make identical choices, or be driven to excel at identical things, or even, perhaps, be motivated by the same goals. To ignore our differences and demand uniformity is a different kind of sexism. Differences between the sexes are a reality, and while they can be cause for concern, they are also very often a strength, and we ignore them at our peril.
Sex: The Deep History
Sexual reproduction has always been a messy, costly operation. You have to find an appropriate mate. You have to convince the mate that you’re a good bet. It may need to be the right time of year—the mating season—or else it’s possible that your gonads have been reabsorbed to save weight and to use those resources for something else (many migratory birds do this). If you do manage to find and convince another individual of the right species and breeding status to mate with you, you may have to tend to the developing egg or fetus. You may have responsibilities that extend for years—decades even—after you have a child that is the result of sexual reproduction.
In terms of genetic fitness, when you reproduce sexually, you are taking a 50 percent hit. If you cloned yourself, you would be 100 percent related to all of your offspring, spreading your genes with perfect accuracy. With sex, only half of your genes are in each of your kids. Asexual reproduction is only a win for you and your offspring if the future looks exactly like the past. So long as conditions stay the same, if life worked out for you, it should work out for your clones.
Our chromosomes start us down a path toward femaleness and maleness. One of the genes on the Y chromosome, for instance, is SRY, which, when initiated, controls the regulation of a whole series of masculinizing actions, including the formation of what will become the testis, in which sperm is made. Hormonal cascades further masculinize a body (with testosterone and other androgens) or feminize it (with estrogens and progesterone). Even when the quantity of gonadal hormones is controlled for, though, sex chromosomes themselves affect such varied differences between males and females as pain perception and response, the anatomy of individual neurons, and the size of various brain regions, including parts of the cerebral cortex and corpus callosum.
In order to reproduce sexually, you need two things: DNA from multiple individuals, and a cell. The machinery of the cell—for example, mitochondria and ribosomes—is big and bulky, at least compared to DNA, but it’s necessary for life. So, if you are going to reproduce sexually, at least one partner has to contribute that cellular machinery, known as the cytoplasm. That cell—which we call the egg—is therefore big (for a cell). Trade-offs being what they are, that big cell is also largely sessile—it doesn’t move.
Humans are sexually dimorphic across many domains, extending far beyond reproduction. Men and women have different disease risks, etiology, and progression, for conditions from Alzheimer’s to migraine, from drug addiction to Parkinson’s disease. Our brains are structured differently. We tend to have different personality traits by sex, and they are mediated by our environment: personality differences are greater in countries that have abundant food and a low prevalence of pathogens. In general, women are more altruistic, trusting, and compliant as well as more prone to depression than men. Men are more likely to be diagnosed with ADHD, women are more likely to have anxiety disorders. Finally, on average, men prefer working with things, and women prefer working with people.
Sex Changes and Sex Roles
Sometimes, conditions are so dire that normally sexually reproducing individuals become asexual in order to reproduce.
Similarly, sometimes conditions are such that it is evolutionarily appropriate to change sex. In a few species of plants, many species of insects, and several clades of reef fish, sequential hermaphroditism is common, in which an individual begins as one sex and switches to the other at some point in their life.
Among sequential hermaphrodites like flame wrasses, after a female changes into a male, he has changed not only his sex—which gamete he produces, once eggs, now sperm—but also his “sex role,” which is the behavioral expression of his (new) sex. In humans, we call this gender, or sometimes, gender expression.
The usual rules of sex roles, then, are ones of male display and female choosiness. This stems from that long-ago difference in investment between the sexes—the large resource-rich egg and the small streamlined sperm. Furthermore, in those species in which parental care is necessary for the offspring to survive—which means all of mammals and birds, and a good proportion of reptiles, amphibians, fish, and insects as well—males tend to put more effort into what happens before sex, and females put more effort into what happens afterward.
In the vast majority of species, females are the limiting sex. Because females invest more in offspring— from eggs being larger than sperm through parental care typically falling to females more than males—males must compete for access to females, and females get to choose among their suitors. Males thus tend to be larger or more aggressive; or gaudier, louder, or more melodious than the females of the species.
Sex-role reversed species have also flipped which sex invests the most when; in these cases, the male is the limiting sex. Several polyandrous waterbirds do this, including Northern jacanas. Among them, we find dominant females defending large territories, inside of which a female’s many male mates build nests, incubate eggs, and tend to the young.
Sex-role reversal—what we might call gender switching in humans—is not the same as changing sex. In mammals and birds, with our genetic sex determination, there is no sex change possible. Behavior, though—call it sex role, call it gender—that is highly labile (open to change). We humans are the most labile, behaviorally, of all the animals. So, it shouldn’t surprise us too much that many of us are abandoning some old gender norms—behaviors that have, in the past, been tightly coupled with our sex—and configuring new ones.
What it would be foolish to do—and what many WEIRD people in the 21st century are doing—is to pretend that sex equals gender, or that gender has no relationship to sex, or that either sex or gender is not wholly evolutionary. Remember the Omega principle, which tells us that adaptive elements of our software (e.g., gender) are no more independent of our hardware (e.g., sex) than the diameter of a circle is independent of that circle’s circumference. Gender is more fluid than sex, and has many more manifestations, but “acting feminine” (gender) is not the same as “being female” (sex).
Women are, on average, more likely to nest and nurture, and men are more likely, on average, to defend and explore. Observing this does not mean that men don’t nurture, or that women don’t explore, but these population-level differences have evolved because of the underlying differences between the sexes. Pretending otherwise puts us all at risk—ask people to believe things that are patently untrue and they will be ever less likely to form a coherent worldview, one based in observation and reality, rather than fantasy. Men will never ovulate, gestate, lactate, menstruate, or go through menopause. Women who identify as men might, but that is different.
Sexual Selection in Humans
Human girls develop breasts at puberty, and they persist throughout the woman’s life. Breasts are, of course, functional as mammary glands with which to feed babies. In no other species of primate do breasts persist when there are no babies around to benefit. Human breasts are sexually selected, and they are doing more than feeding babies. They are also advertisements to men.
The concealment of ovulation in humans is also sexually selected. While nearly all mammals advertise fertility by physiological means, humans do not—or at least, we do so far less than other species. We have also become sexually receptive throughout the year, rather than just seasonally. Concealment of ovulation serves some reproductive ends, but it also encourages something that humans do a lot of: we engage in nonreproductive sex—sex for pleasure, sex for bonding.
The physical ornamentation of women—including not just makeup and heels and jewelry, but also breasts that stay enlarged throughout our reproductive cycles—is an indicator of partial sex-role reversal in humans. What does that mean? Whereas most animal species exhibit male-male competition and female choice of mates, a species with partial sex-role reversal, such as we have, will also show competition between females and male choice of mates. This can manifest as anything from women advertising to attract the attention of men to outright brawls between women. Men, not coincidentally, will also be more likely to be in a position to choose their partners.
Division of Labor
The division of labor can and has created rigid roles, however, many of which are outdated in the 21st century. It is useful to understand some of where those roles came from in order to determine which ones are unlikely to change, and which ones might.
Historically, women and men have had division of labor, both in family units and in societies, but other than those tasks mandated by anatomy and physiology (gestation, lactation), there is little in the modern world that some women might not choose to do. Similarly, men are ever more welcome in traditionally female fields such as nursing and teaching, although we shouldn’t expect parity there either. Different preferences lead to different choices. Pretending that we are identical, rather than ensuring that we are equal under the law, is a fool’s game.
Sexual Strategies
While most readers of this book are likely living in a culture that assumes monogamy and biparental care, absent those constraints, men don’t contribute much to the production of babies. It is also true that baby production does not end at birth, as once a baby has been successfully gestated for nine months, mother’s milk may nourish that baby for six months, two years, or more, depending on cultural norms. Maternal investment in offspring is mandated, and high; paternal investment can be high as well, of course, but is negotiable. There are many humans alive now, and throughout history, who never met their fathers.
In every culture studied, women were more interested in mates with high earning potential than were men. Furthermore, men were more interested in potential mates who are young, and physically attractive, than were women.
Women who might get pregnant will have an easier time if that child has a father who contributes to the well-being of his child and mate. So, women will be selected to prefer men with the capacity to earn. Because female fertility peaks early, and falls off far more steeply than male fertility does, men who might father children are more likely to be interested in youth and beauty in their mates—both of which can be understood to be proxies for fertility.
Because fathers have never had certainty of paternity until recent technological advances have made it possible, the evolution of jealousy and mate guarding is far more prevalent in men than in women. Across cultures, men have tried to control the reproductive activities of women in such a way that they could increase their own certainty of paternity. Among the most patently divisive and destructive are menstrual huts that isolate women during menses (and so allow men to know when in their cycle women are) and female genital mutilation (which reduces or eradicates the possibility of sexual pleasure).
Among the Nayar of southwest India, wives and husbands do not live together, they share little beyond sexual activity, and women may have multiple husbands. With such uncertainty of paternity, fathers do no paternal care, but the mothers’ brothers have both rights and responsibilities toward their nieces and nephews that are, to our WEIRD eyes, quite paternal. In general, though, a man who is tricked into raising someone else’s children is ridiculed.
Broadly speaking, there are three possible reproductive strategies:
Until very recently women preferred long-term partners to one-night stands, and they were far more likely than men to be sexually reticent. Women have thus tended to engage in a long game, looking for a man with whom to partner, to co-parent, and to grow old together. Gestation and lactation are anatomically, physiologically mandated features of being a female mammal. Given that women are forced by nature to invest in their children, they have a better chance of successfully parenting if they have a partner who is invested as well.
All three of these strategies are open to men, but the first one is the male strategy that is best for society, best for children, best for women, and best for all but a handful of men.
Rape has allowed men to successfully reproduce, especially in times of war. Nobody will defend rape as honorable or desirable for individuals, or for society. Rape is reproductive strategy two.
The final alternative male strategy, however, is also not honorable or desirable for society, and yet has been encouraged for women by “sex-positive” activists as a sign of freedom and escape from puritanism. This third reproductive strategy is that of one-night stands. Of sex with strangers and without commitment or expectation. This strategy does not involve force—many women will often willingly sleep with a guy they just met. Such sexual liaisons do tend to come with some deceit, though, often by both parties. If women adopting some of the worst traits of men is our evidence of equality and freedom, we need to reinvestigate our values. This is reproductive strategy three: sex with neither force nor investment, the short game.
Contra the messaging of sex-positive feminists, engaging in this short game diminishes the sexual power of women. When people of both sexes are routinely seeking frivolous, no-emotional-connection sex, they are creating conditions in which everyone is behaving like men at their (second) worst. It’s not as bad as rape, obviously. But it’s not as good as strategy one, either. Society sliding toward this third reproductive strategy for both men and women is a variation on the Sucker’s Folly—the tendency of concentrated short-term benefit (sexual pleasure) not only to obscure risk and long-term cost, but also to drive acceptance even when the net analysis is negative.
Women often don’t intuit that there are two distinct male strategies (aside from rape), and so are often advertising toward men engaged in strategy three, the one that looks for one-night stands, while actually angling for men interested in strategy one. Hotness is a manifestation of sexual strategy three gaining primacy. Beauty, by comparison, is a manifestation of the first sexual strategy, the one that’s in it for the long term. Hotness fades fast with reproductive potential. Beauty fades far more slowly.
Failures of Reductionism, Redux: Pornography
There is no such thing as “having sex.” It’s not like “watching Netflix,” or “playing the guitar.” Sex is interactional and emergent, such that “having sex” with person A is not the same as “having sex” with person B. This is, once again, the mistake of reductionism, imagining that a proxy for a thing is the (whole) thing.
Of course, people are fascinated by human sexuality. There is information, in watching others, about hazards and opportunities, both evolutionary and personal. Doing so triggers that third sexual strategy, though, the one that wants to get to the act of sex right away, the one in which it doesn’t matter who it is that one is having sex with.
Men are more likely to be jealous of physical infidelity, women are more likely to be jealous of emotional infidelity. In general, women prefer erotica, which brings with it a backstory, as it were. Porn, targeting that third sexual strategy, reduces human bodies to our constituent parts, and puts a premium on extreme sexual acts as a result of economic competition for attention. Among populations that have come of age on a steady diet of porn, women are far more likely to report being asked to engage in anal sex, strangling, and other violent “games” that are represented on-screen, even though few real women want these things in life.
Porn, we posit, produces what we will call sexual autism. Here, we take the diagnostic criteria for autism and suggest that porn produces, in its adherents, something similar with regard to sexuality: incoming sensory data are of primary importance, and emotional and social communication is backgrounded, if considered at all.
Those who learn sexual behavior via porn tend to display repetitive behavior, and atypical sensitivity to sensory inputs. Sexual communication is difficult for them—probably because communication is a two-way street, and the other person cannot be fully predicted in advance, or controlled. People who have learned about sex through porn have difficulty developing, maintaining, and understanding sexual relationships; insist on inflexible adherence to routine; and show intense fixation on narrow interests. It is, in short, difficult for them to contend with novelty and surprise, with discovery, and with emergence.
If the most complete human sexuality is, as we argue, an emergent property between whole individuals—bodies and brains, hearts and psyches—porn reduces sex to commodity, to acts, to mere bodies. Selecting from a narrow menu of options, sex learned from porn will be repetitive and inflexible, with a narrow focus on orgasm. Those who learn about sex from porn are likely to be insensitive to feedback from anything but their own body. Communication and feedback will not be priorities, nor perhaps understood as values at all. Relationships will be difficult to form, harder still to understand. This is safer, in a way—while you risk not discovering the true highs of human relationship and connection, you are also protected from some of the true lows. What of the world of emotional, deeply human discoveries that are possible with a richly connected sexuality?
The Corrective Lens
Love is a state of the emotional mind that causes one to prioritize someone or something external as an extension of self. Love, the genuine article, is a matter of intimate inclusion. When it is real, there are few forces more powerful.
Love evolved first between mother and child, but then expanded its scope. Soon enough, adults reliably experienced love between partners, and then other forms of love began to blossom—between fathers and children, grandparents and grandchildren, among siblings. Love then found a place between friends and between soldiers, between those who shared intense experiences, good or bad.
Eventually, love evolves to include abstractions—love of country and love of God, love of honor and service, truth and justice.
Love as we experience it first evolved nearly two hundred million years ago, when mammals diverged from reptiles. As with the evolution of sex, the egg is foundational to our understanding of the evolution of love.
The first mammals were egg layers, and eggs do not require love, although in many species they benefit from parental vigilance. But the five extant species of egg-laying mammals—four species of echidnas, and the duck-billed platypus—are substantively different from all other egg-laying species. Mammals, even the ones that lay eggs, make milk. Early on, it was a crude operation: modified sweat glands secreted nutritious fluid that was lapped up off the surface of the mother’s skin. Later, a more elegant solution for delivery evolved: the nipple. In all mammals, nippled or not, milk solves a problem.
A mammal mother can leave her babies in a safe place while she forages, freeing her from having to provide all their food in advance or having to shuttle morsels back to her burrow. Milk also allows the baby’s food to be chemically and nutritionally adjusted in various ways that facilitate development.
Parental Care: Moms, Dads, and Other
Helplessness of hatchlings and newborns—altriciality—is not itself an asset, but this helplessness opens the door to extraordinary things. Major programming of the brain can take place through cultural transmission when offspring are in close contact with their parents. This is far faster than genetic change, and allows not only for rapid behavioral evolution, but also for tailoring of behavioral patterns to the local environment—physical, chemical, biological, and social.
In birds and mammals, altriciality is the downside of behavioral flexibility, which is an asset. Behavioral flexibility, plasticity, emerges in organisms that are not fully programmed by the genome.
In part, cooperative breeding, which is on full display in many human societies, is most likely to evolve when rates of promiscuity are low and resources are distributed across the landscape such that any given individual cannot monopolize them. The monopolization of resources opens the door to the monopolization of mates—indeed, the distribution of resources in space and time has far-reaching effects on mating systems.
Mating Systems
Sexual size dimorphism is a strong predictor of polygyny across vertebrate species. Men are, on average, about 15 percent larger than females, and significantly stronger. This tells us that our ancestors were at least somewhat polygynous or promiscuous.
And while the majority of human cultures have been polygynous at some point in time, the majority of people alive today belong to cultures in which monogamy is the norm. Monogamy is fragile, and easily and often breaks down into polygyny in mammals. Despite this, monogamy is the superior system.
Types of Mating Systems:
Monogamy is the mating system with the greatest potential for cooperation and fairness, beginning with child-rearing. In primates, monogamy is also correlated with the largest relative brain size. Across the biota, females are the limiting sex, which allows them to be choosy about their partners. In a polygynous system, sexual partners abound for females, but they are in short supply for males and—absent an intent to invest beyond the act of sex—males tend to have incredibly low standards for sex partners. If a female does not show obvious signs of a communicable disease, a male is likely to accept just about any willing female. Absent monogamy, this is what sexuality reduces to: females burdened with the entire chore of reproduction, and undiscerning males always on the make.
Because monogamous males select a female and forgo sexual opportunities with others, they have as much reason as females to be choosy about sexual partners. Males being choosy in this way reduces their tendency toward violence. They may yet fight over access to the best females, but no longer need aspire to the acquisition and defense of “harems,” which are closely associated with aggression and physical weaponry like antlers and piercing teeth.
Monogamy also creates a system in which nearly everyone has a mate, as sex ratios tend to be one-to-one within populations, regardless of mating system. This prevents the accumulation of sexually frustrated males for whom violence may be the only path to reproduction, either through the overthrow of harem owners—as in lions and elephant seals—or through rape—as in ducks and dolphins.
Males without “certainty of paternity” are unlikely to stick around to pair-bond with a female and help raise the kids. Male birds tend to have high certainty of paternity (not long between fertilization, egg laying, and hatching), but male mammals are rarely certain at all.
Once pair-bonded, a male is faced with a choice. He can merely guard his chosen female against rivals, or he can contribute in some way to the provisioning and care of their offspring. Paternal care is not universal in monogamous species, but it is common. Paternal care increases the chances that offspring will live to be reproductively viable, and also increases the number of viable offspring that can be produced—both of which contribute to the fitness of male and female alike.
In humans, there seems to have been a positive feedback loop: as babies got more and more helpless, with longer and longer childhoods, the bond between co-parents got tighter and tighter. Love is a manifestation of the tightness of that bond.
Given that monogamy is the route to having full siblings, monogamy thus enhances cooperation between offspring and reduces the tendency of intra-brood conflict.
Illnesses faced by mothers during pregnancy are often the result of a conflict of interest between mother and fetus—an often gentle but real tug-of-war for resources. A mother has a strong interest in dividing resources between her various offspring over her entire reproductive life span, whereas a developing fetus—which has hormonal access to its mother’s bloodstream and is only 50 percent related to its mother—has an interest in taking more than its share, so long as its take doesn’t put its mother’s life at risk. That conflict of interest is mitigated in monogamous populations, in which the fetus has double the interest in the survival of future full siblings compared to populations in which future siblings will be sired by different fathers. From the perspective of a father in a non-monogamous species, another way to put this is that males take advantage of the maternal behavior of females, and their genes continue this parasitism through pregnancy.
Implications of Monogamy in Humans
Sex, gender, relationship, and mating systems: four topics intimately intertwined and shot through with complexity and significance.
When resources are in surplus, monogamy is likely favored. It provides a clear advantage at the lineage/population level by bringing all able adults into child-rearing, allowing the population to capture resources at the fastest rate. When a population reaches carrying capacity, though, and zero-sum dynamics are once again in play, the incentives of high-ranking men tend to shift in the direction of polygyny. Male-male competition becomes a driving force, as men with wealth and power seek to dominate the reproductive output of multiple women.
When polygyny is on the rise in a society, we see an increase in sexually frustrated young men who are willing to take big risks for the possibility of gaining a mate. The lineages of the relatively few powerful males who benefit from polygyny also benefit by arming frustrated young men and sending them abroad with dreams of coming back with a bride or as a marriageable war hero.
All else being equal, people in monogamous cultures experience lower birth rates, and higher socioeconomic status, than those in polygynous ones. Furthermore, the age difference between spouses is smaller. In part, this likely reflects a move away from viewing women and girls as commodities, which strongly polygynous cultures often do.
Polygyny is often conflated with a fantasy of promiscuity in which there is an increase in sexual and reproductive freedom without negative consequence. The sexual revolution would seem to bear this out, but it is an illusion for two reasons.
Prior to birth control, women (and their close kin) guarded their reproductive capacity. Because human babies are so hard to raise, a woman who could insist on help from a man would be foolish to forgo it. In such a world, men had great incentive to impress women to whom they would commit. Our modern arrangement gives women a lot more freedom to enjoy sex without the risk of becoming single parents, but it also radically undercuts their bargaining position with respect to long-term commitment—especially if they engage in reproductive strategy three, the short game.
Men may physically feel as though they have been judged sexually worthy by large numbers of women, but subconsciously they know that the bar for such acceptance has been lowered so far as to be meaningless. Yes, it is sex, but it is junk sex, formulaic and without depth.
Women may consciously want to enjoy sex without commitment, but they are wired to fall in love with the men they bed because sex, babies, and commitment are evolutionarily inextricably linked for women. Sex and orgasm trigger the release of oxytocin in females, which promotes bonding. The situation is similar for males, except that it is not oxytocin but vasopressin that does the job.
The pair-bond-facilitating vasopressin, they argue, will be most present in men when they have sex with women they have known for a longer time. If true, what this would mean for women is that sleeping with a guy you’re really into on the first or second date will actually decrease the likelihood that he will fall in love with you.
Two categories of men benefit from type 3: the wealthy and powerful who are in a position to have multiple partners, and those who delight in pretending to be interested in commitment in order to bed women in whom they then invest nothing. Some men in both of those categories also propose sexual quid pro quo with women trying to advance their careers, a position that women can find impossible to recover from without damage. Somehow, we have replaced a deeply flawed system of mating and dating with one perfectly positioned to transfer all the spoils to kings and cads.
Committed relationships are a good thing, so valuable to the rearing of healthy children. Yet if women in the modern mating and dating scene don’t accept casual sex as normal, they’re often ignored. If they do embrace casual sex, they often unwittingly trigger fear of commitment. Men could be seen as profiting at the expense of women in this situation, which is partly true, but their windfall is mostly an illusion. Yes, men are built to find commitment-less sex rewarding, but they are also built to value loving partnerships.
Committed relationships are a good thing, valuable to the rearing of healthy children. Yet if women in the modern mating and dating scene don’t accept casual sex as normal, they’re often ignored. If they do embrace casual sex, they often unwittingly trigger fear of commitment. Men could be seen as profiting at the expense of women in this situation, which is partly true, but their windfall is mostly an illusion. Yes, men are built to find commitment-less sex rewarding, but they are also built to value loving partnerships. Casual sex is disrupting that.
Elders and Senescence
Brain and mind are not synonyms—the mind is a product of the brain. Brain is hardware; mind is software. A perfectly functional piece of hardware is of little value if the software and the files are seriously corrupted. If we fixed the brain without somehow retooling the mind—even if every physical pathology of the brain could be banished—most of the centuries of extra life would be wasted in a nightmare scenario of senile minds hobbling youthful bodies.
We spend decades acquiring skills and knowledge about how to function effectively in the world, but this hard-won programming is trapped within bodies that soon succumb to the hostile forces of nature. Were we neurologically hardwired by our genomes, we would be born knowing how to be adults, and we could get there directly. Even among organisms that do have parental care, there is often considerable preprogramming.
Elders pass on the durable knowledge and wisdom by this second mode of inheritance—culture. Because this second mode is cognitive rather than genetic, and culture changes faster than genes, the niches we exploit can change at a staggering rate. This plasticity allows bands of humans to function as coherent bodies, with tasks divided as if into separate organs.
In central Portugal, menopause, which is nearly unique to humans, is not the end of vitality for women. It is the end of direct reproduction, but the ability to provide wisdom and care to the young—to children and to grandchildren—after the risk of continuing to produce new babies is past, can be considered a great gift.
The wisdom of elders is ancient and necessary in human history, and there is deep value in being skeptical of the wisdom of elders, when that wisdom is out of place, or of the wrong time. Parents have an overriding interest in their offspring being highly effective in whatever environment they will inhabit. If the mind’s software needs updating and the young are in a position to accomplish it, it is in everybody’s interest that the antiquated paradigm be replaced. This explains why, for healthy parents, seeing oneself in one’s children is some mixture of rewarding and jarring, but seeing them thrive is a thrill and a relief.
Many believe that as individuals we are entitled to more, that we personally must be preserved, but this desire is in error. Such preservation would interrupt the primary mechanism by which humans innovate and keep pace with change.
Love across Species
Dogs are in many ways a human construct. We have co-evolved with them for so long that they are now attuned to human behavior, language, and emotion. Perhaps you could argue, then, that humans are also partially a canine construct.
Love develops for every evolutionary pairing that requires devotion. We love our pets, and our pets love us. Dogs, in particular, are love generators who hang out with you and help you know that you’re not alone. Dog is love, unmoored.
We need to be careful in how we attribute emotion and intention to other animals—as we should within our own species as well—but there can be no doubt that many other species plan and grieve, love and reflect.
Grief
The only way to avoid grief is to live a life without love. Grief has evolved multiple times across species, always in highly social organisms with parental care.
Modern approaches to loss and to grief tend to overemphasize metrics and logistics and spend too little on meaning and narrative (What did he bring to us? How are we better for him having lived?). We often don’t want to see the body, or sit with it at all. Death is at a remove, and this particular hyper-novel situation, in which it is our choice to not confront the corpse of a loved one, can render us more confused in the aftermath of death.
Grief is us recalibrating our brains for a world without one of its central pieces. We must reformulate our understanding, as we are no longer able to go to that person (or animal) for words of wisdom or comfort, but we are still able to think back, to learn from, and to take comfort in the relationship that can no longer grow, but can still be remembered. We don’t want to believe in their permanent absence, and so our brains create fictions, ghosts: Was that him turning the corner at the café we used to frequent? Surely that was her—I know her hair, her jacket—getting on the train. Grief is the downside of high-bandwidth interdependence. Grief is the downside of love.
The Corrective Lens
It is a time to learn rules, to break rules, and to make new rules. During childhood, we learn how to be. We also learn who we are, and we dream about who we might become.
We have the longest childhoods on Earth, and we arrive in the world with more plasticity than any other species—meaning that we are the least set-in stone. Software, which is the interplay of experience and knowledge with capacity, is more important in humans than in any other species.
Our ability to learn language is part of our hardware. Nearly all human babies have this competence latent in them. Which language a baby will speak, however, is entirely context dependent. Furthermore, we quickly lose some of our ability to hear and construct the phonemes and tones of languages that are not in our environment, regardless of our particular ethnicity or lineage. Just as we are born with more neuronal potential than we use, we are also born with more linguistic potential than we use, and some of it is lost during childhood. We are born with broad potential, and that potential narrows over time.
We are born to explore the world around us, discover its secrets, and structure our minds accordingly. Once this job is done, we shed our surplus capacity, lest it become a metabolic liability, all cost and no reward.
All species that are social, are long-lived, and have generational overlap also tend to have long childhoods. These other species’ childhoods come with tantrums and play, emotional depth and cognitive capacity, just like ours. The adults that develop from those children of other species have social complexity that is recognizable to us humans as well.
Stealing childhood from the young—by organizing and scheduling their play for them, by keeping them from risk and exploration, by controlling and sedating them with screens and algorithms and legal drugs—practically guarantees that they will arrive at the age of adulthood without being capable of actually being adults. All of these actions—almost always well intentioned—prevent the human software from refining our crude and rudimentary hardware.
Childhood facilitates the passing on of cultural information, and culture can evolve faster than genes. Childhood gives us flexibility in a changing world.
Learning to Navigate Backflips and Traffic
Children learn through observation and experience. While various cultures, including WEIRD ones, focus increasingly on direct instruction (which becomes formalized as school), cultures from the Navajo to the Inuit avoid teaching when at all possible.
Children learn from their parents, from their siblings, from their extended family and friend groups. Siblings have historically been particularly corrective forces, as they tend to be brutally honest when their brother or sister does something poorly, or has an error in judgment. The ways that children enforce their own views of appropriate behavior on other children may look mean to adults, but when children are actually allowed to roam freely, in groups, and engage in long periods of unstructured play, the bullies and jerks are more likely to lose power than gain it, and everyone learns how to both create and follow rules that work. Across cultures in which play has been observed, even very young children who are allowed to engage in open-ended play in potentially dangerous areas with no adult supervision tend to resolve disputes quickly among themselves, and rarely have accidents.
Our societal pendulum has swung too far to one side—to protecting children against all risk and harm—such that many who come of age under this paradigm feel that everything is a threat, that they need safe spaces, that words are violence. By comparison, children with exposure to diverse experiences—physical, psychological, and intellectual—learn what is possible, and become more expansive. It is imperative that children experience discomfort in each of these realms: physical, psychological, and intellectual. Absent that, they end up full-grown but confused about what harm actually is. They end up children in the bodies of adults.
Plasticity
Childhood—and by extension parenting—is an interplay of love and release, of holding someone close while also giving them freedom to explore, even perhaps to leave.
Phenotypic plasticity allows individuals to respond in real time to changing environments, to avoid being canalized into set patterns and lifeways by their genes.
WEIRD parents are not just focused on our children, we are focused on the metrics that are easily recorded and conveyed to others: the when of our child’s first smile, word, or step. Once we have such metrics in hand, we are easily confused into imagining that the when is a critical measure not just of health, but of future capacity. Once again, the easily measured thing—the calorie, the size, the date—becomes an inaccurate stand-in for a larger analysis of the health of the system. By believing in the false notion that when a benchmark is met is the salient measure of health and progress, we play into our modern fear of risk. It is risky for my child to miss a benchmark. It is risky for me not to force my child to meet arbitrary deadlines. Such parental focus can instill fear in our children, which they carry forward as an aversion to risk.
Fragility and Antifragility
Humans are antifragile: We grow stronger with exposure to manageable risks, with the pushing of boundaries. As we grow into adults, exposure to discomfort and uncertainty—physical, emotional, and intellectual—is necessary if we are to become our best selves.
“Expose children to risk and challenge” is therefore a rule, like so many rules in complex systems, that is context dependent. So, while exposing your child to ever greater risk as they grow up is integral to their becoming antifragile, you cannot do so by simply throwing them in the deep end. First, you must make sure that your child knows, at the deepest level, that they are loved, that you have their back, and that no matter what, if they are in trouble, you will do everything possible to come in and get them.
Bond tightly with your children early on. We are fans of attachment parenting: carrying your child as you move through the world, so that they see what you see, and are in literal contact with you; and co-sleeping with your baby (which, contrary to some reports, makes having an infant easier on parents, not harder). When your baby cries, go to him, assure him that he is not alone. A child thus treated is likely to have the confidence, pretty early, to go out adventuring, because they know that someone—their parents—have their back, no matter what.
Of course, children will quickly learn to test the system, and to try to game their parents. Parents and children are together for the long haul, and children are selected to figure out parental moves, and to attempt to manipulate them. Indeed, manipulation begins before birth. A fetus is selected to extract resources from its mother, even as the mother is selected to provide for her child, while also keeping some in reserve, both for her own health and for that of future children.
Static rules don’t work with children. Rules have to be nimble, able to change as the child matures, and responsive to both the needs and the tactics of the child. That being said, as early as possible talk to your children as if they are mature and responsible beings. Hold them responsible for their actions, and for ever more of their needs as they grow up. Give them real work to do, not busywork. Do not make false threats (“If you keep doing that, I’ll turn this car around!”). Always make sure that they know they are loved.
Play and Tinkering and Sport
Play, it has been proposed, serves to enable mammalian children to develop kinematic and emotional flexibility for use in unexpected, and uncontrollable, situations.
Broadly speaking, play can explore the physical world, the social one, or some combination of the two. There is terrific value in tinkering, in taking physical objects and moving them through their paces, in taking them apart and seeing if they go back together again.
Many girls are more likely to want to explore explicitly social space—staging tea parties, in which they act out the words and intentions of their guests, which may be dolls and stuffed animals, in advance of having real guests with whom they can interact—and that, too, is exploratory.
Team sports can bring the physical and social together in a fun and creative way, and are a valuable platform for exploration. They are not for everyone, but sports are one way to ensure physical skill, and physical skill facilitates mental clarity and strength. That said, team sports are not a complete replacement for either unstructured play or physical engagement with the world that most would call “work.” Work must be done, and children are well served by doing some of it.
Formal sport is valuable, and physical work is, too, but deeper yet is simple play, with no top-down enforcement of rules. When children make up the rules as they go, or modifying rules for established games for whatever court and gear they have at hand, they are learning deep truths from play.
Older children in mixed-age groups gain practice in nurturing, leading, and mentorship, and often get inspiration for creative activities.
On the Dangers of Apparently Animate Objects That Can’t Respond
Why is there an uptick in diagnoses on the autism spectrum now? We posit that it is, in part, related to the number of children who were raised staring into screens animated with creatures that seemed to be alive but weren’t. Those seemingly alive creatures, which cannot and therefore will not respond to a child’s looks or gestures or questions, send the message to the developing brain that the world is not an emotionally responsive place.
Humans engage in theory of mind more often and more deeply than any other species. We interact with inanimate and animate objects differently, and learn not to ascribe intent to those that do not react. Letting inanimate objects babysit your young child risks sending the child the message that others in the world are neither responsive to nor deserving of respect and fairness.
Legal Drugs and Children
The considerable rise in mood-altering and behavior-modifying pharmaceuticals being given to children in the last several decades is, we posit, in part a response to children resisting school culture. Boys are more likely to get diagnosed with ADHD and prescribed speed, which “allows” them to focus, and increases the chances that they will tolerate sitting still, facing forward, in neat rows. Because rough-and-tumble play no longer suits our delicate sensibilities as a culture, we prefer to drug our children into submission.
Girls, on the other hand, with less proclivity toward “acting out” and greater proclivity toward being agreeable and anxious, are more likely to get prescribed antianxiety meds and antidepressants. Most school seems better suited to girl ways of being and learning than to boy ways of being and learning, but that doesn’t mean it’s healthy for girls, either.
Except for rare, extreme examples, many people who exhibit “neurodiversity” benefit from trade-offs that allow them enhanced insight or skills in other areas. There is also value simply in being the “rare phenotype,” in looking at the world differently from how the majority sees it. This logic applies not just to people who have autism spectrum disorder, especially if they are high functioning, but also to people who have ADHD or are dyslexic, dysgraphic, color-blind, left-handed, or more. Given a choice, you might not choose any of these traits for yourself or your children, but that preference may say more about our inability to understand trade-offs—especially cryptic intellectual trade-offs—than it does about what is actually beneficial for individuals, and for society.
While learning differences aren’t inherently good or bad, they can serve to break bad educational relationships. A good teacher-student relationship is liberating, but a bad one can be devastating, and this is made more likely by the quantification of teaching that can turn teachers into seal trainers rather than holistic educators. Once education has become highly canalized—directing people unswervingly into banal and generic choices—the canals themselves become toxic. Having a learning disability can free a person from even being able to play in the toxic canals, which can force such young people to forge their own educational path. This provides a view not only into the current metric-heavy system—one that too often fails to reveal wisdom or capacity—but also into a better, alternative future, one in which there are multiple routes to becoming successful, productive, and antifragile.
Does a Butterfly Remember How to Be a Caterpillar?
As humans, we continue to transform throughout our lives, but the most intense period of transformation is childhood, just as identity is being formed. The fact of transformation can make it challenging to reconcile who you were in early childhood with who you are in late childhood. More challenging yet is reconciling who you were in late childhood, when perhaps you thought yourself already an adult, with who you are as a young adult. This is made even more difficult with a permanent record of those earlier phases always around to remind you (social media).
Combine calls to “be your authentic self” with a Western cultural norm of always being right, and early social media posts are destined to confuse and thwart children as they should be metamorphosing into their adult forms.
If you are on social media in middle school, your identity is bound to be confused and confusing. If your parents were posting images of who you were at seven, and you have those to compare to as well, it’s harder still. Yes, we deserve to have photographs of our children at all stages of development. In general, those photos should not be on display for everyone to see, unless they clearly represent a particular moment in time that is not meant to be universal.
Adult humans remembering precisely how they thought about the world when they were younger is not, in general, necessary to living a good life—especially if those thoughts and images are doctored, not reflective of what was actually true. Being constantly reminded of what we looked like, how we acted, what thoughts we decided to post on social media when we were younger and different is actively getting in the way of the ability to grow up. This applies to adults as well as children.
The Corrective Lens
The primary goal of real education is not to deliver facts but to guide students to the truths that will allow them to take responsibility for their lives. John Taylor Gatto, in A Different Kind of Teacher: Solving the Crisis of American Schooling
Keep your wits about you. Believe that you can rather than that you cannot. Build deep community and, having built it, trust that it will be there for you.
In light of the relative rarity of teaching both in other species and among other human cultures, we should be asking ourselves: What do we need to learn in order to become our best selves? And of those things that we do need to learn, which of them need to be taught, and which can we learn in other ways—through direct experience, or through observation and practice, for instance? Put another way: What do we need school for?
You do need school to learn to read and write. Reading and writing are so new that we need an educational supplement in order to learn it. School is also useful to learn cell biology, written history, and all but the most basic math. Literacy, like math and thinking from first principles, is like an adaptive foothill, though, and once you’re literate (or numerate, or adept with logic), you can teach yourself many things without requiring further school.
We can also use school to discuss texts with real people, to gain exposure to ways of thinking about and representing the world about which we were previously ignorant, and to gain experience in proposing and running scientific experiments. School is not necessary to engage in any of those pursuits, but it can be useful.
In school we also might learn what it sounds like when irreconcilable positions meet one another. This allows an insightful person to go on to do the same thing within themselves: hold two irreconcilable positions in their head at once. The value in this is immeasurable; it allows a person to learn argument by arguing with themselves, which facilitates their ability to both uncover and recognize truth. Humans are perhaps unique in the degree to which our theory of mind—the ability to understand that other living beings have points of view, and that those perspectives might be different from our own—enables us to explore contradiction and paradox.
Because memory and recall are easy to assess and measure, they can easily become the metric that is being chased, by students and teachers and schools alike. Far harder to teach and to quantify—and at least as valuable, if not more so—are critical thinking, logic, and creativity. Memory exercises tend to drill down on detail, on facts that are unchanged by context. Trade-offs being ubiquitous, a focus on memorized details, then, will likely come at the expense of a focus on the big picture.
While people don’t intuit the formalization of the scientific method, children are inclined to observe pattern, to postulate reasons for the pattern, and to try to figure out if they’re right. All people are inclined to be verificationists, to look for verifying evidence of their own correctness, rather than to look for falsifying evidence that, if it doesn’t show up, makes their precious idea look more and more likely.
What Is School?
School is based on an economic efficiency, while being unimaginative about what could be accomplished. The economics—not to mention the perverse incentives behind compulsory schooling—of school tend to fill children’s heads with knowledge, without showing them a path to wisdom.
Perhaps school should serve the purpose of helping young people grapple with the question: Who am I, and what am I going to do about it? Another way of phrasing this might be: What’s the biggest and most important problem I can solve with my gifts and skills? Or: How do I find my consciousness, my truest self? Done well, then, school can provide a great platform for formalizing and delivering rites of passage. Rather than focusing on any version of these questions, though, modern schooling, especially the compulsory sort widespread across the WEIRD world, is more apt to teach quiescence and conformity.
Or perhaps school should reveal to children that fringe positions should be explored and considered, not thrown out immediately on the basis that they are unpopular. Betting against the fringe is an easy and safe bet and when done in a tone of paternalistic indulgence, say, or authoritarian disdain, it usually shuts down dissent. While most fringe ideas are in fact wrong, it is exactly from the fringe that progress is made. This is where the paradigm shifts happen. This is where innovation and creativity occur, and yes, most of it is wrong or useless, but the most important ideas on which we now base our understanding of the world and our society came from the fringe.
School should be fun, but it should not be gameable. A child shouldn’t be able to “win” at school (although many do, and many more lose at it). Social rules are learned at school, but at its base, school should be about discovering truth, both universal and local. School is, for better and for worse, a stand-in for parents, for kin group, for those with whom the child has shared fate.
School should not, therefore, teach through fear. Risk and challenge help children learn. As with parenting, this requires early tight bonding, during which a secure base is established, which provides children the confidence to go out adventuring fairly early, because they know that someone has their back, no matter what. School that operates by fear will teach the opposite lesson.
One approach, which will be more effective with older children and young adults, is for teachers to explicitly hand away their own authority by telling students not to trust them just because they are the figure in the front of the room. When a teacher then does earn the respect and the trust of her students, such that she becomes a legitimate authority figure, one with authority that was earned rather than assumed, her authority will better serve both the students and their education.
For young schoolchildren, one solution would be having a garden at school, and spending time in it in all sorts of weather. Frequent field trips to natural areas, and spending time actually outside rather than in the climate-controlled protection of the “nature center,” help, too. Will it always be comfortable? No. Will some children be ill prepared for rain or wind or sun? Yes. Will they learn from small, early mistakes to start taking responsibility for their own bodies and fates and so get better at navigating the world? Yes. Yes, they will.
Preparing students to understand risk encourages them to expand their worldviews, and embrace experiences that lead to maturity. This does, however, come at a cost: understanding risk cannot completely protect individuals from danger.
Modern school tends to protect against individual tragedies, while facilitating the larger, societal ones. Arrange all the little boys and girls neatly in rows, assign them seats, and tell them never to speak unless they are called on first, because that will make it easier to keep track of them. At the same time, at home, teach the little boys and girls that they are each the center of the entire universe, and that they may and in fact should interrupt adults at any moment, for any reason. Teach the children that temper tantrums are acceptable by caving to them whenever they erupt, and also tell the children that they are the most precious and infallible beings in existence, and as such, any criticism is a crime against their core selves.
We should not be surprised when children raised this way can make no sense of the confused and confusing messages coming at them from home and from school. Nor should it surprise us when they gravitate to the systems that are most gameable.
Congratulations, society, you have successfully produced self-satisfied whiners who are accustomed to getting what they want, who are good at school but not at thinking, and who are, in fact, neither smart nor wise.
The World Is Not About You
The rise of pharmaceuticals being prescribed to children, helicopter and snowplow parenting, and the near ubiquity of screens have all made school an even more difficult place than it once was. In the United States, add to these the economic and political forces that have reduced school funding while increasing testing, thus cutting the creativity and freedom of teachers off at the knees.
Risk and potential go hand in hand. We need to let children, including college students, risk getting hurt. Protection from pain guarantees weakness, fragility, and greater suffering in the future. The discomfort may be physical, emotional, or intellectual—My ankle! My feelings! My worldview! —and all need to be experienced to learn and grow.
By inculcating in children the sense that order is always better than chaos, and that being easily counted and prioritizing doing things that are easily counted is the honorable way to go through school (and therefore life, many would extrapolate), society creates adults who bristle at the unexpected and the new.
Higher Ed
Science and art, in particular, often mistakenly described as at opposite ends of some imagined spectrum in the pursuit of truth and meaning, do not make their primary impact in the world through careful, thoughtful assessment and critique of what has come before. Yes, we stand on the shoulders of giants, and yes, the history of ideas and of creations that came before us is integral to what we know and think and do, but that does not mean that it ought to be our primary focus, or that it is our mission.
Tools Are More Valuable Than Facts
Explicitly tell students—and make sure that it is true—that they are not in competition with one another. Our students actually learned more when they collaborated with one another. There was never a “curve” looming that guaranteed that some would fail. Another piece of the puzzle is to break the “this is the time of day that we are educated” paradigm, by leaving the classroom and spending more time together. When students and faculty do this, and break bread together day after day for several days or weeks or even months, it becomes clear that, actually, good questions show up at all hours of the day, all days of the week, and if you are traveling with an intellectual tool kit that you have cultivated through logic, creativity, and practice, you can engage such questions whenever and wherever they arise, not just in the classroom when the authority with the appropriate degree is standing in front of you, paid to answer your questions.
Intellectual Self-Reliance
When I go outside at night and look up at the stars, the feeling that I get is not comfort. The feeling that I get is a kind of delicious discomfort at knowing that there is so much out there that I do not understand and the joy in recognizing that there is enormous mystery, which is not a comfortable thing. This, I think, is the principal gift of education. Teller, in “Teaching: Just Like Performing Magic”
The brick-in-the-wall model creates minds that are all alike, minds that are ever less capable of generating or considering strange new ideas, minds that are outraged by confusion, and by uncertainty. Nearly every student whom they taught was, in the end, game to be challenged, actually challenged—told when they were wrong, told the teachers when they were wrong, and told that they needed to learn to pose real questions and then sit in the not-knowing for long enough to figure out how one might figure it out.
What harm can come from looking up answers to straightforward questions? The harm is that it trains us all to be less self-reliant, less able to make connections in our own brains, and less willing to search for relevant things that we do know, and then try to apply those things to systems we know less about. If answering “how” questions quickly, with a few keystrokes, impedes the development of self-reliance, what of the desire to pursue “why” questions this way? It is even more likely to kill logical and creative thought. Why do birds migrate? Why are there more species closer to the equator? Why does the landscape look this way? Before you look it up— think on it. Walk on it. Sleep on it. Talk about it. Share your ideas with your friends, and when they disagree, engage the disagreement.
Calm Down, Level Up
In the past, it was difficult to find yourself in a habitat without having an intimate understanding of it. Either you had received wisdom about it from your elders, or you had come to understand it by entering it from the edge, gradually immersing yourself in it. We moderns, though, live in such a rapidly and unpredictably changing habitat that none of us can claim to be fully native in it. We also have a problem of abrupt boundaries that our ancestors did not, a strangely clear line demarcating safety from not: the swimming pool; the garbage disposal; the curb.
Fear, anger, and hyperbole sell products, attract an audience, and are a useful tool of control. They are not, however, representative of the best that we can do as humans. Terror-inducing stories may be a hack to prompt appropriate behavior in modernity. It is a failure of education to scare people into acceptable behavior. If the ultimate goal of education is to produce capable, curious, compassionate adults, helping students stay calm and capable of reason, rather than in a constant state of alarm, is a far better route to that end.
Observation and Nature
One set of goals for higher ed ought to be to teach students how to hone their intuitions, become experienced enough in the world to reliably recognize pattern, return to first principles when trying to explain observed phenomena, and reject authority-based explanations.
It takes being willing to fix your own errors. Modeling for students the actual process by which ideas emerge, and are refined and tested, then rejected or accepted, allows them to move away from the linear models of knowledge acquisition that most of their schooling, and nearly every textbook, have inculcated in them.
If education is, in part, preparation for an unpredictable and shifting world, teaching courage and curiosity ought to be a priority.
By creating opportunity to go into nature—regardless of what your discipline is, and what you are trying to teach—you allow students to begin trusting themselves, rather than taking other people’s words for what is true.
Students may think that they want to be seduced, led astray by false praise, as it feels good in the moment. Most whom we met, though, wanted to be educated, led forth from narrow, faith-based belief into intellectual self-sufficiency, where they could assess the world and the claims in it from first principles, with respect and compassion for all.
The Corrective Lens
School and, parents should teach children:
Higher education, in particular, should recognize that:
Rites of passage are useful as markers of transition. But they are rather uncommon among WEIRD people, less ritualistic, and this has contributed to our losing track of the characteristics of adulthood. Historically, adults were those who knew how to feed and shelter themselves, how to be constructive and productive members of a group, how to think critically. This knowledge does not magically accrue with age, though. It must be earned.
Across cultures, rites of passage therefore provide clear signals to you, the individual, about how far along you are and what society can expect from you. Without these markers, we are more likely to end up with widespread confusion—thirty-year-olds who are effectively children, unfamiliar with responsibility, and eight-year-olds who are granted adultlike status with regard to their ability to determine, for instance, what sex they truly are. Rites of passage thus coordinate society with respect to what is expected of individuals at various stages of development, and they exist in two forms: temporal (age) and, loosely, merit (earned).
Age is a rough guide to what a person should be able to do, and merit is a specific guide for what an individual is capable of or, in the case of marriage, signing up for. These have been abandoned or corrupted across WEIRD culture. Temporal rites are loosely and inconsistently applied, and merit rites are largely gameable.
People who are deserving of being called “adult” can observe themselves carefully and skeptically, and regularly ask themselves questions like these: Am I taking responsibility for my own actions? Am I being closed-minded? Am I entrenched in a worldview, and if so, why? Am I coming to conclusions independently, or have I accepted an ideology that I allow to do my thinking for me? Do I avoid collaboration that would be valuable, if it would also be challenging? Am I letting emotions make decisions for me, especially hot, intense emotions? Am I ceding my adult responsibilities, and do I make excuses when I do?
One of those adult responsibilities is to not spend money on every latest thing. Selling delayed gratification is rarely a successful business strategy, so it is hard to find in the marketplace. Instead, junk everything is available—junk food, entertainment, sex, news. The aggregate of the market is therefore selling infantile values, which make you a desirable consumer but a poor adult.
Absent the hyper-novelty and unconstrained market forces of 21st century WEIRD societies, childhood is when you take in information from your ancestors, and discover the world that you inhabit, both physically and cognitively. Adulthood, then, is the phase in which you operationalize what you have learned, and become productive.
Our narratives are also no longer shared at the societal level. The tremendous choice that we have in picking and choosing narratives means that when we partner with people, we generally share a language but not the baseline set of beliefs or values that we would have in an ancestral environment. Historically, shared narratives, or at least the cross-pollination of narratives, kept manipulation in check. Now those systems are breaking down. In the past, those creating and those consuming the narratives—be it religion or myth, news or gossip—had shared fate, and they knew it. Now we live in such a fractured society that most of us have little sense of our shared fate—that we all live, for instance, on a single planet on which we depend.
School, which should be helping young people learn how to be successful adults, is mostly rudderless at best, and actively harmful to development too much of the time. Products and algorithms coming at children will do them harm, their motivational structures will be hacked, their peers will lead them astray. They will not be unscathed. How, then, to become functional adults?
Laboratory of the Self
The problem for humans who are trying to figure out how to live in the world is that we are each our own unique, complex system. There are some universals, to be sure—toxins and advertising and sedentary lifestyles are risky for all of us. Consider, though, that our internal wiring is so distinct from that of the next person, that for many topics, the advice that works for person A may well fall flat for person B.
Humans are capable of inhabiting every human niche that has ever been exploited: we are hyper-plastic. Combine that with a modern environment that is ultra-noisy, and we all face an independent landscape of dysfunction.
Roughly speaking, such would-be self-help gurus fall into four categories: the con artists, the confused, the correct but of finite applicability, and the universally useful. We posit, and we hope by now you agree, that many evolutionary truths are universally useful.
The trick, then, is in figuring out how to:
Complexity and noise are the enemies of signal. The solution involves controlling your experiments as much as is possible given the constraints of the environment. Change only one thing at a time. Do it fully and completely (if you cheat, you’ve learned nothing, but you may be fooled into thinking that you now have information). And give it time to work.
Types of Reality
Many modern people seem to imagine that by changing people’s opinions or perspectives, you change underlying reality. In short, they believe that reality itself is a social construct.
How do you avoid becoming someone who assesses the world based on social responses rather than based on analysis, one of those people who are easily fooled by con artists and the confused? Two good strategies are to regularly engage with the physical world and to understand the value of close calls. The sad truth is that the more “educated” you are today, the harder this is to do. Our current higher education system is steeped in a philosophy that doubts our ability to even perceive the physical world. That philosophy is called postmodernism.
Postmodernists have been at the leading edge of promoting the view that reality is socially constructed. Postmodernism, and its ideological child, post-structuralism, were once contained in a small corner of the academy. These ideologies do contain kernels of truth. They teach us that our sensory apparatus biases us, and that we are mostly unaware of those biases. They reveal that schools, factories, and prisons are similar in their use of power to control populations (as analyzed by Michel Foucault in his metaphorical extension of Bentham’s Panopticon). And Critical Race Theory has at its foundation the real observation that the American legal system has had a particularly difficult time emerging from its racist past, and that full recovery from that past is not yet on the horizon. These are a few real and valuable contributions that such ideologies have contributed to the world. But most modern instantiations of postmodernism have jumped the shark.
Our eyes are tools of our brains, taking note of the world. We are fully embodied—our bodies are not afterthoughts to our brains, or unnecessary to their interpretation of the world. Perception is an action. The more you move, therefore, within whatever your particular limits are, the more integrated, whole, and accurate your perception of the world is likely to be. Movement increases wisdom. So, too, does exposure to diverse views, experiences, and places. We need both freedom of expression, and freedom to explore, because both speak to the value of environments in which outcomes are uncertain.
Pursue feedback from the vast universe that exists beyond other human beings. Watch your reactions when the feedback comes in. The more time you spend pitting your intellect against realities that cannot be coerced with manipulation or sweet talk, the less likely you are to blame others for your own errors.
On the Benefit of Close Calls
The fact that we tend to believe in bad luck, but not in good luck, makes it more difficult to learn from our mistakes.
Trying to explain away the past, rather than learning from it and moving on, is a poor use of time and intellectual resources.
Having close calls is part of the set of experiences that are necessary in order to grow up. If your child has been made totally safe, living a life with no risk, then you have done a terrible job of parenting. That child has no ability to extrapolate from the universe. If you, as an adult, are totally safe, you are probably not reaching your potential.
On Fairness and Theory of Mind
Being an adult, in part, means not abdicating responsibility, especially when others are depending on you. Being an adult also means engaging in cooperation on a number of levels. We may engage in kin selection, direct reciprocity, and indirect reciprocity.
When your group is threatened, you rally, and the bonds within the group grow stronger. In good times, however, when things are easy, group stability tends to fray, first around the edges, and ultimately at the core. Again, economic markets prey on this tendency, destabilizing our sense of self and community, causing us to look elsewhere for the missing ingredient that will, finally, make us happy, productive, and secure.
One thing that theory of mind provides potential access to is a sense of fairness. The concept of what’s “fair” didn’t originate with philosophers. It didn’t emerge with city-states, or with agriculture. It wasn’t new to hunter-gatherers, either, or to our first bipedal ancestors. Monkeys keep track of what’s fair, and what’s not, and they have decided opinions about unfair practices in their social realm.
Markets prey on our sense of fairness. They fool us into thinking that everyone else is getting grapes, while we are stuck with cucumber. If other people already have those better things, why don’t we? Our sense of fairness is thus kept off balance, always threatened by the invisible other consumers who already have the next big thing, and thus must be doing better than we are. We are still trying to keep up with the Joneses, but the Joneses are no longer our neighbors. They are now a tiny fraction of the world’s elite piped into our screens, and photoshopped to boot.
As humans, one of the ways that we test the moral waters and assess the mood of a group and its boundaries is through humor. It helps mitigate questions of fairness. Humor is the mechanism by which we sort out the gray area of what can and can’t be said. A humorless society, community, or group of friends likely has large problems lurking just beneath the surface. Furthermore, attempts to induce laughter inorganically—as with laugh track—is the market once again trying to intrude on honorable human tendencies to bond over shared experience and understanding. Laugh track ultimately renders us more humorless, and less capable of connecting with actual human beings.
On Addiction
Many things have a pathological version. Pathology is not the same as “downside”—senescence is a downside of early adaptive traits, but it is not pathological. In contrast, arrogance is pathological confidence.
Positive obsession has many words in English: passion, focus, drive. The primary manifestation of negative obsession, of pathological obsession, is addiction.
Our software is built to maximize our fitness, even if our conscious minds have other priorities. But our software has an increasingly difficult time telling signal from noise, because our map of what enhances fitness in the ancestral world does not prepare us well for the modern world.
Our intuitive sense of the fitness value of behaviors is thus often wrong in modernity. Our intuition had a greater chance of leading us to the right choice before the Industrial Revolution, before hyper-novelty was ubiquitous. Many of us are now effectively able to pull levers, like rats with access to amphetamine, and get a concentrated burst of euphoria that doesn’t just obscure the risk of that euphoria, but makes it ever less likely that we can turn away from it in the future. It’s another instantiation of the Sucker’s Folly: the reward obscures the cost.
“Reward” is not binary—it is not simply a positive or a negative. The valence and size of the reward depend, in part, on what the other possibilities are—the opportunity cost. The cost-benefit analysis is incomplete until you compare it to what else you could be spending the time on.
Boredom is effectively synonymous with the “opportunity cost” having gone to zero: if you believe there is nothing else enriching that you could spend your time on, then the calculation of whether or not to engage with a particular substance or action is skewed, particularly if that substance or action results in a feeling of enrichment, even a false one.
The Corrective Lens: How to Give Yourself a Raise
The Age of Information brings the promise of a collective (metaphorical) campfire, a decentralized thing where people who have never met in real life can be warmed by the presence of other minds, sharing ideas and reflections.
But the online world does not have the structures that made discussion around the hearth so valuable. An ancestral campfire places everyone’s reputation—earned over a lifetime—front and center. Around an ancestral campfire, each person would have some basis for elevating or discounting claims and proposals based on the individual’s known strengths and deficits, and taking the history of the discussion into account. The virtual campfire is, by contrast, a free-for-all. We don’t really know one another, our visible history is often misleading, many users are anonymous, and some participants have a hidden dog in the fight.
Campfires both metaphorical and literal are a convergence point for culture and consciousness, where people come together in good faith to learn the old wisdom and to challenge it.
Culture we define as beliefs and practices that are shared and passed between members of a population. These beliefs are often literally false, metaphorically true, implying that they result in increased fitness if one acts as if they are true despite the fact that they are either inaccurate or unfalsifiable. Culture is a special mode of transmission because it can be passed horizontally, rendering cultural evolution immensely faster and more nimble than genetic evolution. This also renders culture noisy in the short term, before new ideas have endured the test of time. Long-standing features of culture, by contrast, constitute an efficient packaging of proven patterns. Culture can spread horizontally, but its consequential parts are ultimately passed vertically, from generation to generation. Culture is received wisdom, generally handed to you by ancestors, and efficiently transmitted.
Consciousness we define as that portion of cognition that is newly packaged for exchange, meaning that conscious thoughts are ones that could be delivered if someone asked what you were thinking about. It is emergent cognition, where innovation and rapid refinement occur. Conscious thoughts may never be conveyed, but they can be, and the most important ones are, as consciousness is most fundamentally a collective process in which many individuals pool insights and skills to discover what was previously not understood. The products of consciousness are, if they prove useful, ultimately packaged into (highly transmissible) culture.
As mentioned earlier the human niche is niche switching. They argue that the human niche is to move between the paired, inverse modes of culture and consciousness.
Through parallel processing of multiple human minds, our consciousness can become collective, and we can solve problems that neither we could solve as individuals nor our ancestors could have even imagined.
That said, novel levels of novelty, such as we are experiencing now, are a special danger. This means that what’s needed today—and urgently—is a call to consciousness on a scale that we have not seen before.
Consciousness in Other Animals
Sociality involves recognition of individuals, the tracking of social fate, and iterated interactions that are, at least plausibly, continuing into the future.
Aggregation of animals like tree frogs and salmon are not conscious as they are not sociable in that way. Congregations of baboons in the other hand have very conscious culture.
Innovation at the Margins of the Ancestors’ Wisdom
As a people move across space, it is relatively easy to notice as the ancestors’ wisdom becomes less applicable. As a people move through time, however, as we all do, elders may not recognize their wisdom becoming out of date. The young see it. It is no accident that those who are coming of age in times of change and push boundaries, and that language and norms change somewhat with each generation. Throughout history, the ancestors’ wisdom has generally remained relevant long enough for new generations to get their footing, to know what needs to be pushed against. As a people move through time that is changing extremely rapidly, however, as our world is now, it is more difficult to know what to do with the increasing irrelevancy of the ancestors’ wisdom, and with what to replace it. The margins of the ancestors’ wisdom are rarely hard and fast. At those margins, wherever they are, it is time to niche switch.
Consider three broad contexts in which humans have learned and innovated in times past.
Conformity
Conformity has a time and a place—like most traits, it is not simply worse (or better) than not conforming.
There is a tension between conforming and disagreeing in the face of apparent inconsistency. This tension is a hidden strength of humans—the push and pull between wisdom and innovation, between culture and consciousness.
Historically, we have combined forces in social groups, such that in a single group, many people with distinct skills created an emergent whole, one in which generalist capabilities emerged even if all members of the group were specialists. Now, though, it is time to innovate, because change is accelerating, and the received cultural wisdom isn’t sufficient. Individuals themselves becoming more generalist—through learning skills across domains, for instance, rather than diving deep into only one—will help us in this endeavor.
It is important to know what the group thinks, but that is not the same as believing or reinforcing what the group thinks. In a time of rapid change in particular, then, it is important to be willing to be the lone voice. Be the person who never conforms to patently wrong statements in order to fit in with the crowd. Be Asch-Negative (in regards to Asch’s psychology experiment where people would change their answer to the length of a line based on the answers of their peers).
Literally False, Metaphorically True
It is easy to dismiss many myths and beliefs, precisely because they are literally false. Indeed, doing so is almost a sport among some hardheaded people. Take astrology. It is clearly beyond reason to imagine that the stars that we see, many of which are thousands of light-years away, are having a direct impact on human behavior. Similarly, it is beyond reason to believe that a passel of angry gods is the reason for tsunamis, yet among the Moken, those who believe in those gods survive at higher rates than those who don’t. And it is surely beyond reason to believe that a full moon is protective of crop health, yet among Guatemalan farmers, precisely that belief results in more productive farming.
This is how religion and other belief structures spread. Even if such things are not literally true, acting as if they are benefits people; sometimes it even benefits the biodiversity and sustainability of the land on which they live.
Distortions that help you survive and thrive are adaptive. Myths and taboos often make little sense to outsiders, and some of them are surely misguided, even counterproductive for those who honor them. Some surprisingly precise taboos are likely overgeneralizations from an actual event.
Beware Chesterton’s fadys—the old ideas may have hidden truths, and those truths may be difficult to recover once they have been dismissed.
Religion and Ritual
All cultures have ritual. Some rituals are rites of passage to celebrate new babies, coming of age, marriage. There are rituals—traditions, perhaps, given their reliably repeating nature—to celebrate the first planting of the year, and the harvest, and astronomical events like the solstices and the equinoxes. As we have come to live in larger and larger groups, surrounded by ever more anonymity in our daily life, regular holidays, with their attendant shared cultural norms, help to keep us in sync, to act as though we are in fact part of something larger than ourselves. Rituals, which are not inherently religious but have a strong tendency to be so, often include food, music, and dance.
Not only do most cultures spend a substantial fraction of their resources and time on structures and ceremonies intended to impress a cold and indifferent universe, but religions expend a great deal of social capital telling believers what they are not allowed to do. If anything dwarfs the cost of religion, it is the opportunity cost of religion. Were it true that religion was maladaptive, these huge costs would constitute a major vulnerability for faithful populations.
Atheists who behave just like these believers, except for the fact of skipping religiosity and reinvesting the massive dividend, should displace them as a regular feature of history. If religiosity had no adaptive benefit, great leaders in every population’s history would have said, “All you must do is work hard and ignore their mumbo jumbo and their lands will be yours.” But that’s not what we find. Instead, we find great leaders saying things about God and his quirks, his preferences and his plan for us.
Religiosity is adaptive, and moralizing gods, while not being a prerequisite for the evolution of social complexity, seem to help sustain multiethnic empires once they have become established. As moderns, we are often eager to throw off the spiritual and religious chains of the past, but beware Chesterton’s gods. Religion is an efficient encapsulation of past wisdom, wrapped in an intuitive, instructive, and difficult to escape package.
Sex Drugs, and Rock ‘n’ Roll: On the Sacred versus the Shamanistic
Culture is in tension with consciousness, much as the sacred is in tension with the shamanistic. The sacred is to culture as the shamanistic is to consciousness.
The sacred is the reification of received religious wisdom, the sine qua non of a particular religious tradition, that which has stood the test of time and proved valuable enough to the ancestors to be passed on as holy. That which is sacred has a low mutation rate—it changes infrequently—and is highly resistant to change; it is built for a static world. The sacred is protected from corruption (or at least, it’s supposed to be), and is often insulated from the corrupting influences of secular power, wealth, and reproduction. The orthodoxy of the sacred exists in persistent tension with the heterodoxy of the shamanistic.
The shamanistic is high risk, high creativity. It has a high mutation rate, and therefore a high error rate. It explores a huge number of new ideas, most of which are poor. It challenges orthodoxy—that which is sacred. The shamanistic is practically mandated to explore and play with cultural norms. It does this in a variety of ways, such as through altered states of consciousness, which include dreams, trances, and use of hallucinogens.
In nearly every known culture there is use of something, be it strictly hallucinogenic or not, that breaks a person out of the normal, everyday experience and allows for a different perspective to emerge. This is consciousness revolutionizing culture.
When the ancestral wisdom runs out, humans pool their dissimilar experiences and expertise to discover how to bootstrap some new way of being. Identifying when the ancestral wisdom has run out in a particular domain is tough, and there will always be tension between those who want to stay the course and those who are looking to break with tradition and try a new way. Functional systems need those advocating for both—for culture and for consciousness, for orthodoxy and heterodoxy, for the sacred and the shamanistic.
The Corrective Lens
Our outsized brains are prone to confusion and miswiring. Our children are born helpless, and they remain dependent on us for an uncommonly long time. Our great linguistic diversity severely limits to whom we can talk. Even our bipedal gait, so important in allowing us to move and carry things on the ground, comes with risk to mother and baby in childbirth, and reliably causes back pain. We’re gossipy, sentimental, and superstitious. We build extravagant monuments to fictional gods. We are arrogant and confused, often mistaking the unlikely for the inevitable, even as we downplay massive and obvious hazards. In everything, trade-offs.
“Times of plenty” is economic growth. When the usual order is restored as births and deaths are once again balanced, we hit equilibrium, and life becomes harder again. Growth feels good, and it is not surprising that we are obsessed with it. It was adaptive to be obsessed with it.
Our obsession with growth creates two problems. The first is that we have convinced ourselves that growth is the normal state and that it is reasonable to expect it to go on and on. That patently ridiculous idea— exactly as hopeful and deluded as the search for a perpetual motion machine—causes us to stop searching for other possibilities. While this expectation greatly reduces the chances that we will miss out on growth, it also prevents us from recognizing and pursuing more sustainable options. Second, because we regard growth as normal rather than exceptional, we behave destructively to feed our addiction.
Geographic frontiers are what we tend to think of when frontiers are invoked: the vast unspoiled vistas, the abundant and yet uncounted resources. All of the New World—North and South America, the Caribbean, and every island near the coasts—was a vast geographic frontier for the Beringians.
Technological frontiers are moments when innovation allows a human population to make more, or do more, or grow more, than they did before the innovation occurred. Every human culture that has terraced hillsides, decreasing runoff and increasing crop production, was confronting technological frontiers.
Finally, there are transfer of resource frontiers. Unlike geographic and technological frontiers, transfer of resource frontiers is inherently a form of theft.
We have run out of geographic frontiers, or nearly so. Technological frontiers come with risks (beware Chesterton’s fence!), and are ultimately constrained by available resources. Transfer of resource frontiers are immoral and destabilizing. What, then, are we to do? Where to turn to find salvation? In simple terms, consciousness. Consciousness can point the way to a fourth frontier.
An artisan who takes pride in the quality and durability of their work is enacting some portion of a fourth frontier mentality, one in which the life span of a product is as important as its function. A table or sideboard made by a local craftsperson is not beloved merely because it is more beautiful than what can be assembled from a box bought at Ikea, but also because the person in possession of a lovely and functional piece has a chance of handing it down to their children, or other kin, or friends. So, too, would we like to be able to deliver unto the next generations a lovely and functional world.
The fourth frontier is the idea that we can engineer an indefinite steady state that will feel to people like they live in a period of perpetual growth, but will abide by the laws of physics and game theory that govern our universe. Think of it like the climate control that allows the inside of your house to hover at a pleasant spring temperature as the world outside moves between unpleasant extremes. Engineering an indefinite steady state for humanity will not be easy, but it is imperative.
Senescence of Civilization
In organisms, we know what causes senescence. It is antagonistic pleiotropy, the propensity of selection to favor heritable traits that provide early life benefits even when they carry inevitable late life costs. This willingness to accept harm in old age occurs because selection sees the early life benefits much more clearly, as individuals will often reproduce and die before the harms have time to fully manifest.
Our economic and political system, in combination with our desire for growth in the moment, inflicts policies and behaviors that don’t seem crazy at first, not at all, and yet they too often turn out to be not only bad for us and the planet, but also irreversible, by the time we realize what we have wrought. We are living the unfortunate reality of the Sucker’s Folly—again, the tendency of concentrated short-term benefit to not only obscure risk and long-term cost, but also to drive acceptance even when the net analysis is negative.
What we “want,” and what the market is glad to hand us, is short-term gratification that rarely accounts for what is best for us long term. A market that is unregulated will tend to embody the naturalistic fallacy—the mistaken idea that “what is” in nature is “what ought” to be. When we let such unregulated markets lead, we are fed directly into the naturalistic fallacy. Just because you can doesn’t mean that you should.
Compounding the issue of unregulated markets is the reality that humans are perfectly adapted to manipulate one another, and that such adaptations have been moved into the hyper-novel territory of widespread anonymity. Historically, manipulation was kept in check by living in small groups of interdependent people. Shared fate was the rule that kept us in line. Putting one over on a person whose fate is intimately linked to your own is generally a poor idea, and those who do quickly get a reputation for doing so. We no longer live in small, interdependent communities. Many of the most critical systems we rely on are global, and the participants are nearly always anonymous. Malicious market forces are largely an expression of manipulation made possible by such anonymity, and by a lost sense of shared fate.
The key to building a system that is resistant to senescence is to:
The Maya
We are not served by ignoring what we are—brutal apes. We are also not served by pretending that brutal apes are the only thing that we are. We are also generous, cooperative beings full of love. We have arrived in the 21st century with evolutionary baggage, and a fair bit of intellectual confusion. Let us understand the baggage, in order to reduce the confusion, and increase our odds of moving forward with maximal human flourishing.
Like the Maya, we moderns need to find ways to flatten the boom-bust cycle that has plagued all populations across time. They hypothesize that the Maya did this by creating a mechanism for not turning excess resources into more people, or ephemeral things; instead, they invested in giant public works projects. Many of these public works projects are visible today as temples, as pyramids. They grew them like onions, building more layers in times of abundance. In years of plenty, they posit, when excess food could easily have been turned into more people, which would have expanded the population, making hunger and conflict inevitable in lean years, the Maya instead turned the extra food into pyramids, or into bigger pyramids. They created glorious and useful public spaces, enjoyable by all, and when agricultural boom years inevitably ceded to bust years, the temples required no nourishment, and the population could withstand the leaner times.
Western civilization has been dominant for nearly as long as the Maya were. Their culture unraveled, accelerated at the end by a hostile enemy from across an ocean. Our culture is unraveling as well. We need a new steady state, an Evolutionarily Stable Strategy. We need to find the fourth frontier.
Obstacles to the Fourth Frontier
TRADE-OFFS IN SOCIETY
Freedom and justice exist in trade-off relationship with each other. We ought not try to push either of these two sliders all the way to one end. It is of course true that many societies are both less free and less just than they might be. For a majority of situations, we are not yet up against the limit of what is possible (what economists call the efficient frontier), and could potentially increase both freedom and justice until that limit is reached. Coming to grips with the fact that freedom and justice cannot both be maximized is a critical step in the conversation. Imagining a world that is totally free and just is to imagine utopia, a static perfection, a world in which trade-offs have been banished. Utopia is an impossibility, and its persistence as a fantasy is a profound hazard.
In order for us to have a conversation about humanity’s future effectively, people of every political persuasion need to understand diminishing returns, unintended consequences, negative externalities, and the finite nature of resources. Liberals are particularly prone to underestimating diminishing returns and unintended consequences. Conservatives are particularly prone to underestimating negative externalities and the finite nature of resources.
According to the economic law of diminishing returns, as you increase your input to a given variable, while holding everything else constant, the increases in your yield will virtually grind to a halt. Diminishing returns occur in every complex adaptive system. Understanding this encourages us to create nimble, evolving strategies, rather than cumbersome, static ones. A utopian vision, one that seeks to maximize any single parameter, falls prey to diminishing returns. Because we are constantly reaching for a static goal—which requires greater and greater investment to achieve, with ever smaller gains—we greatly limit what else could be accomplished. The opportunity cost of not jumping to the next diminishing returns curve is spectacular.
Unintended consequences are a variant of Chesterton’s fence: messing with an ancient system that you do not fully understand may create problems that you do not foresee. Liberals are prone to making regulations that upset functional systems. For instance, linking education funding to test scores led to the unintended consequence of creating a feedback loop in which poor scores reduce funding, which then further decreases scores. That said, conservatives are prone to easing regulations to facilitate the creation of new products—which themselves may upset functional systems.
Negative externalities occur when individuals making decisions—or products—do not have to bear the full cost of those decisions. Allowing the harm from what is created to be disassociated from its value.
The finite nature of resources should be obvious. While there are some resources that are effectively infinite—oxygen and sunlight being at the top of that list—the vast majority of Earth’s resources are finite. From rubber to wood to oil, from copper to lithium to sapphires, all are limited.
The partisan nature of Western democracy can make us feel as though we could never align behind a set of shared values, but realizing that we have a lot in common is the only way to achieve collective consciousness. We have but one planet. And yet we continue to behave as though the world in which we live is a cornucopia of infinite wealth. The Sucker’s Folly blinds us, our nature seeks growth, and our culture, lagging behind the times, is wired for a world in which we no longer live. While the Omega principle reveals that our culture is not arbitrary, it does not guarantee that our culture is up to snuff when it comes to hyper-novelty. This is the domain of consciousness.
OBSESSION WITH GROWTH
The evolutionary creature in all of us needs to feel growth. Growth is what winning feels like, in evolutionary terms. Every single one of us, every lineage that has existed on Earth, has been through an oscillating cycle of growth, of filling up a niche, and of running into the end of the resource—of moving from a non-zero to a zero-sum world. Coming up short against that limit feels terrible, whereas abundance allows humans to flourish.
Our obsession with growth and the economic mindset it has created has given rise to a throughput society: one in which civilization’s health is evaluated based on the production of goods and services, where more consumption is presumed to be better. This framework is so deeply embedded in our minds that it seems almost logical, until one considers the implications.
If we are to persist, sustainability must displace growth as the indicator of success.
The “world ending” doesn’t typically mean the destruction of the planet. Rather, it means something like “our world”—in effect, our ability to persist into the future. When it is framed that way, some individuals who have predicted the end of their world will certainly have been right. Many populations have, after all, faced threats to their survival, and many of those failed to rise to the challenge. It is our belief, therefore, that sensitivity to existential threats is a long-standing adaptive trait, and that the size of the present human population, our degree of interconnection, and the technology we now possess all create a threat to our species analogous to threats faced by ancestral populations.
ON REGULATION
Simple, static laws will either be wrong from the beginning or have a short shelf life. Having a short shelf life is fine, to the extent that the system can upgrade. As Thomas Jefferson observed, even democracies need rebellion with some regularity. To the degree that a system is set in stone, it will be both gameable and gamed.
Evolved systems that have persisted over time are generally complex and functional, and we should employ the Precautionary principle when tinkering with them. Removing functional organs because we can’t tell what they’re for is not wise. It’s tempting therefore to laugh at those doctors who once proposed to take out people’s healthy large intestines, but what similar mistakes are we making now? Given the hyper-novelty of our era, it would be the height of arrogance to imagine that we are not currently doing things that will be understood to be laughable, even deranged, in the future.
Society is obsessed with short-term safety because short-term harm is easy to detect and comparatively simple to regulate. Long-term harms are a different story, being more difficult to detect, and even harder to prove. What are the long-term effects of screen time or educational testing, aspartame or neonicotinoid insecticides? We do not know. But because no one wants to live in a world where safety testing keeps every innovation off the market for decades, we have become reckless. We foolishly presume long-term harms are absent until they can no longer be ignored, and are then shocked that our expectations of safety were wrong.
A good regulatory scheme is efficient and light-handed—all but invisible. While inherently constraining, its net effect should be liberating, allowing access to the benefits of innovation without having to obsess about hidden consequences.
Good regulation is a key ingredient in any functional complex system. Our bodies, for instance, are tightly regulated across many domains, including temperature. To keep us within optimal range, myriad systems constantly adjust the balance between heat generated and lost, shunting blood into and away from our extremities and capillary beds. Our temperature is nothing if not well regulated, but these processes are so effective that they are barely detectable to us, freeing us to do anything from swimming in a cool river to playing soccer in the sun, all while rarely giving a thought to the risk of hypothermia or heatstroke.
Large systems outside the scope of possible containment by individuals need to be regulated. We cannot address nuclear safety or oil extraction or habitat loss without large-scale regulation.
Leveling Up
We need as many people as possible to get on board with this discussion, to mature into adults, and to discard their utopianism. We need people to welcome the idea that some set of values has to be broadly embraced and pursued, and to recognize that we’re not going to arrive at a decent future by describing it precisely in advance. We’re going to reach it by agreeing on the characteristics that such a desirable and plausible world must have, and then we must prototype, evaluate the results, and prototype again.
We are in the throes of a sustainability crisis. One thing or another will take us out. It might be climate change, or a Carrington Event, or a nuclear exchange set in motion by wealth inequality, a refugee crisis, or revolution, to name just a few of the awfully real possibilities. We are hurtling toward destruction. We must, therefore, with full consciousness, embark on something dangerous. We must seek the next frontier: the event horizon, beyond which we cannot see, from which we cannot return, but through which may be our salvation.
The Corrective Lens
Society-wide, we should:
From the moment when our ancestors achieved ecological dominance, competition between populations has been our dominant selective force. Millions of years of evolution have refined our circuitry for such competition, and it has become the default at the human software level. Now, though, three things conspire to make the inclinations that brought us to this moment an existential threat to our future: the scale of the human population; the unprecedented power of tools at our disposal; and the interconnectedness of the systems on which we depend (global economy, ecology, and reach of technology). The importance of understanding human software is urgent. The problem we face is the product of evolutionary dynamics. All plausible solutions involve awareness of those dynamics. The problem is evolutionary. So is the solution.
The author’s family’s new Hanukkah rules: