Spencer Wells argues in Pandora’s Seed that there are two critical events in humanity’s (relatively) recent past that have pushed us onto the path lea...moreSpencer Wells argues in Pandora’s Seed that there are two critical events in humanity’s (relatively) recent past that have pushed us onto the path leading to modern civilization. Two cusps that have led to the marvels we enjoy today, as well as the horrors (which explains the book’s subtitle: “The Unforeseen Cost of Civilization”). The first took place 70-80,000 years ago when Mount Toba in Sumatra erupted, throwing millions of tons of ash into the atmosphere that caused a catastrophic climate shift. Archaic humans, who had been around for c. 100,000 years at the time and had expanded as far as the Middle East, were reduced to less than 10,000 individuals in Africa. This population bottleneck exerted enormous selective pressure that resulted in modern humans, men and women like ourselves both physically and mentally. The qualities selected for in those fraught generations after Toba were so successful, modern humans had spread to nearly every continent and into nearly every environment by 10,000 years ago, when the second event occurred – the Agricultural (or Neolithic) Revolution.
Ten thousands years ago (give or take a few millennia – these dates are approximate) the world was in a warming trend and glaciers around the planet were melting. In the Middle East, the climate was bountiful and its human population was large for a hunting-gathering culture. In fact, for several thousand years, these tribes had been opportunistically harvesting grains and fruits, and semi-sedentary and sedentary villages developed in many areas. This Garden of Eden, however, was not fated to last. In North America, the Laurentian glacier melted, unleashing a catastrophic flood that washed down over the Great Plains and the Northeast and into the Atlantic. The influx of cold water shut down the Gulf Stream that kept (and today keeps) Northern Europe’s climate warm and temperate. The Middle East became drier and colder, and food resources scarcer. In previous eons, humans would have adjusted: Populations would fall, tribes would split up, numbers would eventually stabilize at a sustainable level. But populations were too large and too far removed from their hunting-gathering roots to easily return to their ancestors’ way of life. But they had been harvesting those grains for generations – modifying consciously or unconsciously many plant species – and it was a small step from that to deliberately planting fields that could ensure a more reliable food source. What came about was “civilization” – a culture of scarcity that gave rise to hierarchies, organized war, classes, specialization, as well as organized religion, philosophy, writing, technical progress, etc.
A few weeks ago, I finished Derrick Jensen’s Endgame: Volume 1: The Problem of Civilization and Endgame: Volume 2: Resistance. Anyone familiar with Jensen’s work (or who’ve read my review) will know that he believes humans made a serious mistake when they turned from the lifestyle they had enjoyed and to which they were adapted for tens of millennia to one that forced them into a never-ending spiral of expansion, exploitation and violence, and for which their bodies and minds were ill-equipped to handle. Civilization will inevitably fall, and soon despite any stopgap measures we try to sustain things. For Jensen, humans will be infinitely better off in the long run the sooner we abandon modern life.
Wells would agree that civilization has led to many unforeseen, unfortunate consequences. He would also agree that current civilization is unsustainable. And he would agree that physically and mentally, humans are not well suited to modern life. Wells is not a Luddite; however, he doesn’t believe we should return to a pre-modern lifestyle. Nor does he think civilization is irredeemable as Jensen does. In his view, while civilization has brought us to the dire straights the world finds itself in today, it also has brought us miracles of medicine and technology and holds the potential to develop the answers that will resolve our myriad crises.
Assuming enough people recognize the problems and act appropriately.
An assumption that makes this book unwarrantedly optimistic (IMO). Wells identifies the problem with the assumption in Chapter 2 where he defines and discusses what he calls “transgenerational power,” the capacity to affect future generations by our contemporary actions. And the mother of all acts was the development of agriculture. Humans have been scrambling to keep up with the problems caused by solutions reached to immediate dilemmas (like food scarcity in 10,000 BC) ever since.
Pandora’s Seed is a short book and a weakness is that it loses focus, particularly at the end. As long as Wells stays in the past, he makes a good case for the largely unintended effects of moving from a hunting-gathering existence (for which 2 million years of evolution had adapted us) to an agricultural one (for which we’ve made some adjustments but not nearly enough to make us comfortable in our self-imposed environments).When Wells moves to the present and contemporary responses to our maladaptations, he writes in vague, feel-good language about the exciting options ahead of us or equally vague bromides about what we must do, as in his concluding paragraph:
“(A)t the present critical point in human history, where we have the tools to begin to solve some of the problems set in motion by the Neolithic Revolution, saving ourselves will mean accepting human nature, not suppressing it. It will mean reassessing our cultural emphasis on expansion, acquisition, and perfectibility. It will mean learning from peoples that retain a link back to the way we lived for virtually our entire evolutionary history. And it might allow us to stick around for the next two million years.” (p. 210)
Two other examples from the book illustrate his odd disconnect between sunny optimism and the logical conclusions of his argument. In “Growing a New Culture” (Chapter 2), Wells starts off discussing the growing aquaculture industry in Norway, which seeks to replenish the fish stocks that have been destroyed in the wild by egregious overfishing. The “poster boy” of his brief digression is a farm in Stavenger that raises salmon. It relies on an elaborate and expensive technology that herds salmon and fools them into thinking restricted pens are their natural habitats. We’re doing this here and elsewhere, as Wells notes, because the natural, sustainable supply of cod, tuna, and other fishes is running out in the face of humans and their need for food. As a final irony – the Norwegian “fishermen” are forced to supplement their farmed salmons’ diets with the artificial astaxanthin. This replicates the pink flesh so prized by consumers but which is naturally brought about by the salmons’ diet in the wild, and (if that weren’t enough) it’s derived from petroleum.
In “Heated Argument,” Wells begins the chapter discussing the situation of Tuvalu, a nation of nine coral atolls in the South Pacific. Because the seas are rising, Tuvalu will no longer exist by the end of the century. Because of civilization, Tuvalu’s economy has shifted from a reasonably sustainable one of subsistence agriculture to one of exportable crops and cash. The population relies on food imports, the waste products of industry are piling up, and tidal surges are making the ever-shrinking land too salty for agriculture. Yet, “I was beginning to get the impression that there were a fair number of people who hadn’t given up on Tuvalu” (p. 158).
This isn’t a bad book, by any means. Wells is a good writer and presents his case well, and if he had stuck to the evidence for our biological adaptations to the environment and the consequences of consciousness and the Neolithic Revolution, this would have been a very good book. But he loses focus and goes off on tangents that deserve books all on their own, or (worse) he brings up a relevant consequence of our “transgenerational power” but wanders off into vaguely optimistic opinions about how wonderful things will be once we put our minds to solving the problem.
I still recommend the book with a clear conscience. It brings together a lot of accumulated information about our past in one easy-to-read source, and I did learn a few interesting things, as in Chapter 4, “Demented,” where I learned about “sympatric speciation” (read the book to find out for yourselves). Or in “Fast Forward,” where I learned about the unintended (and revealing) consequences of our interference in the natural lifecycles of acacia trees.(less)
Bozo Sapiens isn’t bad but it isn’t very interesting. That’s not because the topics aren’t interesting, and it’s not because there aren’t factoids of intriguing information. It’s largely because it is – at best – a superficial treatment of a wide-ranging topic: Why do humans appear to be so ill suited to their environment? Their eyes – their primary sense – deceive them. Their other senses are comparatively dull. Their conscious minds are unaware of 90% of what goes on in the brain, and tendentiously edit what little is perceived. And those unconscious machinations govern some decidedly self-destructive behaviors, ranging from environmental rape to unhealthy eating habits to dysfunctional relationships.
Often I felt like I was watching one of those popular science shows (e.g., “Beakman’s World”) that pop up on cable TV. The book barrages you with a fusillade of facts with little integration – all flash and glitter and whizzing things. This would be a perfect primer if you wanted to become a real-life Cliff, the know-it-all character from “Cheers.” (To be fair to the Kaplans, most of the info derived from them has some basis in reality.)
Two examples illustrate my point. The first is the Kaplan’s treatment of the human mind’s response to complexity. Essentially, we simplify and try to establish patterns that can carry us through without conscious application. They recount the story of a Boeing aircraft that crashes because its crew – thoroughly trained and competent with the previous model – hadn’t integrated the different procedures of the newer aircraft. When an engine catches fire, they responded with the old, ingrained SOP and crash the plane.* Then we get two more anecdotes in a similar vein, and move on to a section on frames of reference.
The second example shows up in the penultimate chapter, “Fresh off the Pleistocene Bus,” where the authors discuss the basis for male-female, long-term relationships and the utility of romantic love. They imply that the difficulty of maintaining relationships rests on the conditions of modern social life: Men and women don’t need each other in the same supportive, complementary way our ancestors did. Once the period of limerence passes and romantic passions are spent, why remain together? Don’t ask me to elaborate; the Kaplans certainly don’t. The next paragraph explores overeating.
Perhaps what irritated me more than the superficial nature of the book was the writing. I’m tired of reading books aimed at an adult, general audience written at a sixth-grade level. If I wanted to read a sixth-grade science book, I’d seek out a sixth-grade science book. It’s frustrating that a book wanting to expand people’s horizons writes down to the lowest common denominator.
And one final, if minor, quibble: The “Notes” section is thorough and interested readers can mine it for further reading but it would have been nice to have a bibliography and/or a “suggested reading” section.
I’ve been swaying back and forth but can’t recommend the book, certainly not for purchase. If you’re at the library or browsing a bookstore shelf, you might kill some time leafing through its chapters or, better, mining the Notes for more focused literature.
* I can’t pass up the opportunity to insert a further example of why all life’s answers can be found in “Star Trek” – In “Star Trek: The Motion Picture,” the refitted Enterprise gets caught in a wormhole with an asteroid that’s going to collide with it. Kirk orders Chekov to fire phasers, and Decker countermands the order. It turns out that the new phasers route power through the warp drive; firing them would have blown the ship up. Kirk, a master of the old Enterprise’s capabilities lacked the unconscious familiarity with the new one’s and nearly destroyed the vessel.(less)
In The Faith Instinct, Nicholas Wade argues that religion is a gene-based adaptation that allowed those groups that had it to survive where those with...moreIn The Faith Instinct, Nicholas Wade argues that religion is a gene-based adaptation that allowed those groups that had it to survive where those without perished, “religion” being defined as “a system of emotionally binding beliefs and practices in which a society implicitly negotiates through prayer and sacrifice with supernatural agents, securing from them commands that compel members, through fear of divine punishment, to subordinate their interests to the common good.” (p. 15) Religion developed to promote group survival; and just as the human brain was built up from pre-existing structures, so too was religion built up from a foundation of (almost certainly innate) behaviors that includes a capacity for music and rhythmic movement, a moral instinct, and language; it wasn’t designed but is an agglomeration of adaptations that worked better than others. The first half of the book focuses on the evolutionary role of religion, and Wade builds a strong case for its adaptive utility (though not necessarily for its existence as a genetically determined characteristic; see below). The second half is practically another book as the author takes us on a historical overview of religion – chiefly the Abrahamic monotheisms though he manages to sneak in the Aztecs – which seems oddly out of place in the context of the preceding pages. I have sympathy for the theories that the book of Exodus is as much a myth as the labors of Heracles or that Pauline Christianity triumphed because its Jerusalem-centered rival perished in the Roman sack of AD 70 or that Muhammad is a fictional character who arose from a misreading of a Christian Arab inscription on the Dome of the Rock but these are not scientific theories about the genetic basis of religion or even its expression, they’re analyses of historical events.
I’ll discuss that aspect of the book in more detail below. Here, I’ll briefly give an overview of Wade’s contention that religion has a genetic basis, beginning with chapter two, where he discusses the “moral instinct.” Wade distinguishes between “moral intuition” and “moral reasoning.” The former is a person’s ability to make an instinctual judgment about the rightness or wrongness of something; a classic example is the almost universal abhorrence of incest. The latter is the conscious’ ability to articulate reasons for a choice, and plays no role in natural selection. Some form of moral intuition has evolved in the higher primates (& other mammals) “to provide the unity required to enable the group to compete successfully with other…groups.” (p. 32) With the advent of self-awareness in humans, we obtained the capacity to act against that intuition. To prevent these now-self-aware human groups from tearing themselves apart, evolution had to find a way to reinforce the moral sense and Wade believes that this was religion.
Chapter three explores the behaviors that characterize religion (or more properly what Wade calls the “ancestral religion”; in chapter six he talks about the transformation of practice that occurred with the rise of sedentary cultures). The author distinguishes five universal (or near universal) traits found in all religious practice:
1. Music/dance 2. Rites of passage 3. A way to communicate with the supernatural/divine and to influence its/their behavior 4. An afterlife (of some sort) 5. God(s) control(s) events
He then speculates that specialized structures exist in the brain that mediate religious behavior though he admits that there’s no evidence for such. (p. 43) This – for me – raised a red flag: That the bases for music, rhythmic movement, morality, language and the other components of religion are genetic, I can accept. But if no physical evidence of a “religious” area of the brain can be found then that suggests that it’s an artifact of cultural evolution rather than a biological imperative. And Wade tacitly admits this later when he discusses the success of other cultural institutions (such as the military or the nation-state) that exploit the same genetic foundations to create group cohesion, loyalty and self-sacrifice.
Chapter five, “Ancestral Religion,” speculates on what form the ur-religion may have taken. As we can’t go back in time to study Stone Age hunter-gatherers, we must rely on extrapolating from the cultures of the few surviving hunter-gatherers in the modern world, including the !Kung San of Africa and the Aborigines of Australia. Thus “[t]he earliest religion seems to have taken the form of sustained communal dancing that invoked supernatural powers and promoted emotional bonding among members of the group.” (p. 98) And the following characterized it:
1. The whole community participated. There was no priestly caste, though there may have been shamans with special abilities re contacting the gods/spirit world. 2. The focus of worship was on communal activities. The modern idea of a personal relationship to God would have been foreign; there was no private spirituality (at least none that could be expressed or mattered to the community). 3. Sacred narratives (myths) conveyed both moral and practical lessons to their hearers. 4. There was also a focus on practical matters of survival over modern concerns of theology/dogma. It is perhaps ironic that religion’s strength – its survivability – lies more in the arbitrary rituals that create the “in” group than in the dogmas that priests devise.
“The Transformation” discusses the changed nature in practice and belief of post-agriculture religion. The most important changes being the development of a dedicated priestly caste and the consequent restriction of full participation to a smaller group and the suppression/control of the more ecstatic forms of worship (e.g., for the Roman Church, Theresa of Ávila was OK but the Spiritual Franciscans were beyond the pale).
As I wrote above, the second half of the book (chapters 7-12) turns from examining the genetics of religion to how different cultures expressed that behavior. There are interesting arguments concerning how religion makes possible (or eases) trade, regulates sex/reproduction, and both encourages war and ameliorates its effects but there’s nothing that really bolsters Wade’s thesis that humans have a gene-based instinct that we call “religion.” If anything, the latter half of the book reinforces the opposite – the idea that religion is a product of culture that builds upon common human instincts. The objectives and desires that religion satisfies can be accommodated by other means and have been, though he makes a strong case that religion has been the most successful mechanism produced so far.
Having read the book, I remain an agnostic at this point. The evidence and our understanding of how evolution works are still too meager to confidently claim that humans have a genetic predisposition to religion rather than that religious behavior is a cultural expression based on disparate factors of human nature. I lean toward the second explanation but The Faith Instinct remains an interesting survey of the current state of knowledge and provokes the reader into considering the possibility that god(s) is (are) in our genes.(less)
I hate the cover of The Humans Who Went Extinct (THWWE). There’s an image of the savannah at sunset and superimposed in the right-hand corner is the f...moreI hate the cover of The Humans Who Went Extinct (THWWE). There’s an image of the savannah at sunset and superimposed in the right-hand corner is the face of a waifish Neanderthal child. Very adorable. But every time I look at it, I have visions of thuggish Cro-Magnons smashing through a sleepy Neanderthal camp bashing in this kid’s head and tossing her infant siblings up in the air to catch them on their spears.
That aside, THWWE is a fascinating interpretation of the hominid family bush, our place on it, and the places of our cousins. Finlayson doesn’t advocate a radically new perspective but he does want to reassess how much we can know based on the available genetic, fossil and archaeological evidence, and argue that we still have a long road ahead before coming to a definitive narrative (if ever).
Over the last couple of months I’ve read two other works that bear on this topic – The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind and The 10 000 Year Explosion How Civilization Accelerated Human Evolution – and it’s instructive to see the different interpretations reached by these four authors. Where Jaynes saw human consciousness arising very late – within the last 3,000 years – Finlayson is of that school (of which I’m an auditing student, as well) which argues that “consciousness” to some degree is an outgrowth of a suitably complex brain. He ascribes it to earlier hominids, australopithecines, and primates in general, as well as cetaceans, octopi, elephants – basically all the higher order animals – as well as modern humans. The author argues that modern human success is the result of favorable climate and cultural factors with little contribution from biology – at least no significant contribution in the last 150,000 to 200,000 years. Which places him in clear opposition to both Jaynes and Cochran and Harpending, the latter of whom see genetic mutations as the basis for nearly every development in hominid history. Finlayson’s viewpoint isn’t completely unbalanced: We’re descended from a line of primates better adapted to the climatic conditions that prevailed over a large portion of the Eurasian-African super-continent at a particular point in history that allowed them to spread out over a wide range. But the final advantages that catapulted modern H. sapiens over Neanderthals and others were climatic and cultural.
A constant theme throughout the book is that modern humans are the product of chance. At any point in the story, a different climate, a more disease-resistant population, or any other variable could have favored a cousin species and would have produced a far different world then the one we live in today.
So what were these initial lucky breaks that has brought us to where we currently stand?
1. In general, primates have flexible joints. It made brachiating (tree climbing) easier and allowed some of them to come down to the ground and walk upright.
2. When the tropical forests that were our primatial cradle began to retreat and fragment due to climate change, our primate ancestors who lived on the margins of the range were able to adapt to a bipedal stance, among other things.
This concept of living on the margins is another important idea in Finlayson’s argument. In essence, when a species finds itself in crisis, it’s the populations on the margins of its range that do best – if they’re able to adapt at all. Time and again, our progenitors were caught at the edges and forced to adapt. As mentioned, Finlayson sees less and less direct evolutionary pressure as time goes on in this change and a greater role for culture. But the defining factor is always climate: Absent the catalyst of environmental change, there’s vanishingly little pressure for either biological or cultural change.
One more point about margins: They’re regions of ecological diversity and the species living there are adapted to exploiting a wider variety of resources to survive. This flexibility makes them “innovators” as compared to the “conservatives” – those stodgy, stay at homes who populate the heartlands of a range.
3. Among the “other things” mentioned above was an omnivorous diet. Fruits, nuts and the occasional insect may have been on the original menu but hominid digestive tracts can handle a wide variety of cuisines. Critical for our ancestors who found themselves very far from the tropical Kansas of our origins.
The first widespread expansion of the Homo genus came with H. erectus - venerable icon of paleoarchaeology textbooks and probably one of our direct ancestors. Finlayson is at pains to point out that we don’t have enough evidence to reconstruct direct connections between hominid fossils. Any claims to the contrary are provisional and can be upset by the next find. (The evidence often consist of nothing more than a few bone fragments and some teeth. The prominence given to Lucy, the australopithecine girl, is due to the completeness of the skeleton, c. 40%, which tends to make it loom larger than it deserves. Though she’s clearly on the road to Homo, Lucy is not necessarily a direct ancestor to our version.)
But back to Erectus: By about 1 million years ago (1 mya), their populations stretched from China to the Atlantic and extended down the eastern side of Africa (there’s a nice map of this on p. 60 of my edition). Then disaster struck – the cycle of ice ages and interglacials kicked into gear and hominids experienced fragmentation, decimation, recovery, and then further fragmentations, decimations and recoveries (or not) in approx. 100,000-year cycles. One of these relict populations produced H. heidelbergensis, an offshoot of which further evolved into Neanderthals. Another fragment became the proto-H. sapiens who were our direct ancestors.
One of Finlayson’s more interesting interpretations of the evidence is that the Neanderthals were the last, moribund population of the Heidelberg line. The cyclical population collapses, the disappearance of the climate zones Neanderthal had evolved in, and the more flexible cultures of H. sapiens drove them into extinction. But that doesn’t mean that Neanderthals, or Heidelberg humans, were unsuccessful as a species. They survived for half a million years or more and kept modern humans out of Europe until about 45,000 years ago. Their nemesis, according to Finlayson, was Mother Nature. Had Europe retained the forests, climate and fauna in which Heidelberg was born, early humans would have been far less successful in penetrating Europe and prevented from doing so for far longer. This points up a weakness, I think, in Finlayson’s argument: The near absence of any consideration of biological evolution. He seems to be of the view that Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon were essentially the same mentally; purely cultural and climatic factors allowed the latter to prevail. If that’s the essential difference, why weren’t Neanderthal able to adopt Cro-Magnon methods? Perhaps Finlayson avoids the subject because we don’t have sufficient evidence yet to say anything useful about the subject. Genetic assays of the Neanderthal genome is an exciting new branch of science but still in its infancy, despite its impressive achievements to date. Finlayson is perhaps wise in remaining agnostic.
Most reconstructions of prehistoric humans put the Agricultural Revolution (c. 12,000 years ago) as the decisive moment in our evolution that solidified H. sapiens’ place as the dominant hominid. Finlayson argues that the real revolution took place 30,000 years earlier among a population of humans struggling to survive on the steppes between the Black and Caspian seas. Here, some tribe discovered how to store food and cooperate at large scales. In a word, they had discovered “surpluses” and how to manage them. This new way of life was so successful that it had transformed every culture throughout Eurasia within 20,000 years – from the edges of China straight across to the Atlantic and (most significantly) in the Middle East, where there turned out to be a wealth of exploitable plants and animals to support the looming farming age.
The epilog – “Children of Chance” – summarizes Finlayson’s views. In the course of 1.5 to 2 million years a succession of hominids were in the right places at the right time with the right adaptive abilities to exploit and survive climatic changes and displace older, less flexible populations. The author’s outlook for human life, as a species, is optimistic – hominids have a few more chapters to write – but, in the short term, he sees a period of disruption and displacement that will alter how H. sapiens lives in ways at least as fundamental as the discoveries of surpluses and farming. He believes the survivors of the coming crunch will be those living, as usual, on the margins. As he puts it, “Taming the future is the essence of the human story. Recall that the successful populations that ultimately led to us were always those living on the edge of others who monopolized the good-quality territory. We were born from the poor and feeble that had to spend every ounce of energy searching for the scraps that kept them alive. This may seem a little undignified for those of us who see ourselves at the pinnacle of evolution but that is the sobering reality of our story. Every step of the way in the unpredictable story that led us was marked by populations of innovators living on the periphery” (p. 214).
I have no illusions about where I live – I’m a product of the heartlands, that “good-quality territory” that’s rapidly becoming untenable. I can only hope that the real crunch holds off until I’m safely dead or near enough that it doesn’t matter :-)
More seriously, I highly recommend this book. It’s very well and clearly written, and it packs an amazing amount of information into its 220 pages. As a plus, the endnotes provide some useful guides to further reading.(less)
I am giving Julian Jaynes’ The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind (The Origin) four stars not because I’ve become a devote...moreI am giving Julian Jaynes’ The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind (The Origin) four stars not because I’ve become a devoted follower of his theory – I haven’t – but because it reflects exactly how I feel about it – I “really liked it.” Jaynes writes in such a commanding manner that you’re helplessly swept along to the end (at which point, you can finally catch your breath and begin to assess what’s just happened). Once he’s determined the correctness of his hypothesis to his own satisfaction, there are no wishy-washy cavils or cowardly hedging. And along the way, Jaynes calls into question everything you thought you knew about humans, consciousness and history. Don’t relegate Jaynes to the crackpot shelf of your library along with Zechariah Sitchin, Erich von Daniken, Graham Masterson and others of their ilk. Jaynes grounds his claims in actual psychology, literature, archaeology and history. As such, you have to take his assertions seriously even if you ultimately reject them. The author’s hypothesis can be summed up thusly:
1. Prior to the second millennium BC, humans were not conscious (by and large). 2. The right hemisphere of the brain was dominant and directed humans via auditory and visual hallucinations that became the “gods” (and God) that appear in ancient literature. 3. This condition Jaynes calls the Bicameral Mind (BM) (vs. the Conscious Mind (CM)). 4. The first chink in the BM came with the advent of language, when it became theoretically possible to construct an internal dialog and an analog “I.” 5. The final nails in the BM’s coffin were the invention of writing and the increasing complexity of urban civilization, which proved too much for the BM to cope with. 6. Consequently, the CM is a product of acculturation, not an emergent property of the brain. 7. The first stirrings of the CM came in the 2nd millennium BC; and by the 1st millennium, it had become the dominant hemisphere of the brain. 8. The BM remains with us but in modern society is found only with schizophrenics and under special conditions (such as hypnosis, deep meditation or religious frenzy).
In the early ‘70s, when Jaynes wrote, such an assertion found little empirical support but in light of modern research in language, evolution, archaeology and brain studies, it doesn’t seem as far fetched. I don’t believe in Jaynes’ stark demarcation between the BM and CM but having read works like Before the Dawn Recovering the Lost History of Our Ancestors, Inside the Neolithic Mind Consciousness Cosmos and the Realm of the Gods, The Singing Neanderthals The Origins of Music Language Mind and Body and (soon) The 10 000 Year Explosion How Civilization Accelerated Human Evolution, it’s clear that human evolution is ongoing and can be found in surprisingly recent events. That pre-language humans processed thought differently seems unassailable. Equally certain is that evolution works with the material at hand – it could easily be the case that the BM (or some neurological process that was not consciousness) remained dominant for a long time because the human environment didn’t select for consciousness until we began living markedly different lifestyles from our origins. On the other hand, consciousness of a sort may have been the edge modern humans needed to crowd out their hominid competitors – most famously the Neanderthal – which would push Jaynes’ CM back a few millennia. If there is a solution to the question, it remains elusive pending further evidence for how the brain works.
Like Caesar’s Gaul, The Origin is divided into three parts. Part I is a bit of a slog as the author goes over current (as of the mid-1970s) research on brain functions and the nature of consciousness. It moves along well enough but can be tough going for those unfamiliar with the subject, despite Jaynes’ generally lucid and reader-friendly prose.
Chapter 1 surveys theories about the origins of the CM: (1) It’s a property of matter; (2) it’s a property of protoplasm – all organisms are conscious to a degree; (3) consciousness as learning – it’s present when an organism can learn from experience; (4) it’s a metaphysical imposition (today, Creationism and ID would fall under this category); (5) the “helpless spectator” theory; (6) emergent evolution – the CM emerges when brain development reaches a certain critical mass; (7) behaviorism, which denies consciousness altogether; and (8) consciousness arises from the firing of axions and dendrites, i.e., it’s a function of the nervous system. I tend to fall into camps (2) and (6) but Jaynes dismisses them all as inadequate and contends that its possible – indeed, it was our condition – to conceive of humans with all the traits of learning, reason, language, etc., but no “consciousness.”
In Chapter 2, Jaynes sets out the features of the CM: (1) Spatialization (objects of conscious thought are placed in a “mind-space”); (2) excerption (we think of particulars, not wholes); (3) the analog “I”; (4) the metaphor “me”; (5) narratization (the CM arranges facts into a story); and (6) conciliation (bringing narratives together into compatible schemata). As he writes: “Subjective conscious mind is an analog of what is called the real world. It is built up with a vocabulary or lexical field whose terms are all metaphors or analogs of behavior in the physical world. Its reality is of the same order as mathematics” (p. 55).
Jaynes briefly looks at The Iliad, which will be dissected in more detail in Part II, in Chapter 3. He considers it the first piece of writing that we have full confidence in translating, and which is a clear example of the transition from the BM to the CM.
Chapter 4 explains how the BM’s hallucinations worked. Essentially they were produced whenever a decision-point was reached, a novel experience that couldn’t be handled unconsciously. The mind obeys the voices because there’s no conscious distance between audition and volition (a similar phenomenon is found in hypnosis subjects and schizophrenics).
In Chapter 5, Jaynes presents his evidence for why humans functioning solely with BMs could function and conceive complex civilizations. As well, he argues that the right-hemisphere functions of the brain (guiding and planning, organizing experiences) mirror the traditional functions of antiquity’s gods, while the left hemisphere mirrors the functions of mere mortals (analysis and verbal tasks).
Chapter 6 is largely unverifiable speculation about how language developed, which I don’t believe holds up well in light of recent research, but for what it’s worth:
1. Sometime between 70,000 BC to 40,000 BC, vocal qualifiers are invented (his example: “wa+hee” = “look out, tiger!”; “wa+hoo” = “look out, leopard!”). 2. Between 40K and 25K BC, imperatives and further qualifiers were elaborated. 3. Between 25K and 15K BC, nouns were invented (bases this on the appearance of cave art). 4. 10K-8K BC, individual names develop (though he makes the point that often these incorporate divine names and don’t appear to signify a conscious awareness of individuality).
It’s also in this latest period that “gods” arise – most likely from the auditory and visual hallucinations of dead chieftains and other prominent members of a tribe. (In Part II, Jaynes theorizes that these deities and spirits became regularized through acculturation. Everyone in a particular culture knew that Kshumai, god of agriculture, appeared to tell the farmer when it was time to plant the wheat.)
Part II is my favorite part of the book – a tour de force of icon bashing that leaves you breathless. In brief, Jaynes believes that BM’ed humans coped quite well for millennia, though in more and more complex relationships, ultimately creating the elaborate city-states and early nations made possible by the Agricultural Revolution. Eventually, Sumer invented writing, which weakened the authority of the BM by making the gods’ commands silent and locatable. They no longer carried volitional power. The BM wasn’t immediately displaced. It wasn’t until the 2nd millennium BC that conditions were right for the fully conscious mind to emerge (and, even then, it would be another 1,000 years for it to become dominant).
I’m going to pass over Chapter 1 in this section as it’s primarily an introduction. Jaynes begins laying out his arguments in Chapter 2, where he explains his belief that all pre-CM civilizations were organized as hierarchical, absolute theocracies ruled either by steward-kings (Sumer) or god-kings (Egypt). People either interacted with representations of the gods (idols) or with their living avatars. Priest castes arose to regulate this heavenly diplomacy.
In Egypt, the pharaohs as god-kings lost control of the system, which crashed c. 2000 BC with the end of the Old Kingdom. Subsequent periods of political unity exhibit greater and greater consciousness. The BM’ed steward-kings of the Middle East exhibited greater flexibility and coped into the 18th century BC before utter social collapse.
Chapter 3 discusses the social chaos which ushered in the second millennium and the CM. Based on surviving inscriptions Jaynes believes that there were no private ambitions or grudges because there was no “private space.” Intercultural relations were carried on my men listening to the voices in their heads or form their idols. In times of plenty, relations were usually amicable; in times of want or stress, they deteriorated rapidly. The 2nd millennium BC was a period of high stress. Externally, populations were on the move, and nations such as Assyria and Babylon were expanding; internally, writing continued to weaken the BM’s hold on humanity, and men were losing the guidance of the gods’ voices. Jaynes characterizes the period as one of anomie and intense fear as humans found themselves “alone” as they had never experienced the sensation before. The response was a breakdown in authority and a calamitous rise in violence. Religions began to appear that were more than simply ritual but codified moral behavior and set down laws as well. It’s interesting to note the Jaynes’ timeline broadly reflects that of the Axial Age – the name historians have given to that period when the spiritual foundations of all modern civilizations were laid (see, Karen Armstrong’s The Great Transformation The Beginning of Our Religious Traditions or Rodney Stark’s Discovering God The Origins of the Great Religions and the Evolution of Belief or, if you prefer it fictionalized, Gore Vidal’s Creation A Novel.
The first transitional culture, Assyria, arose c. 1400 BC – savage and semi-conscious. From 2000 to 1700 BC, the Assyrians had established themselves in a far-ranging network of trade missions. Jaynes suggests that Assyrian traders became “contaminated” by contact with foreigners and different gods, which brought about the consciousness of difference and the idea of another self. It also brought about the collapse of that first epoch and the eventual rise of the Assyrian Empire. Its legendary cruelty was not a manifestation of the CM but of the BM attempting to reassert control by prompting the Assyrians to destroy what was alien. (I’m reminded of the classic “Star Trek” episode, “Return of the Archons,” and the Body’s attempts to destroy Kirk and his crew.)
The chapter wraps up with a summary of the signs of the CM:
1. Observation of difference: Humans saw something “else” controlling strangers’ actions and inferred a similar “self” within themselves. 2. Narratization: Codification (through the written word) of past events. The birth of “cause and effect.” 3. The invention of lying: Not the movie but the idea’s the same. Humans became capable of projecting an outer persona that differed from their internal one. 4. Natural selection: Though Jaynes’ doesn’t believe the CM has a biological origin, he allows that it was a survival trait and that humans more capable of consciousness bred longer and faster than their BM cousins.
Chapter 4 continues to build on 3’s evidence (or “evidence” if you’re not buying Jaynes’ brand of snake oil). With the emergence of the CM, humans no longer have a direct connection to divinity. Because the gods have fallen silent for most, we see the emergence of angels and demons, ideas of “good” and “evil” and divinatory practices (where the increasingly rare human conduit still heard divine voices (e.g., Delphi) or rituals sussed out divine pleasure (e.g., casting lots). In the Abrahamic religions, the Fall of Adam reflected this falling away from the gods: Man becomes separated from God, who used to walk with him in the cool of the evening in Eden.
Chapter 5 turns to The Iliad as one of the clearest examples of the transition from the BM to the CM, focusing on several terms that begin as fully concrete behaviors or actions and wind up becoming metaphors of the CM. The oddest example being psyche, which began life as the verb “to breathe,” became “life” in the sense of an animating force, and ended up meaning “soul.”
Chapter 6 finishes the section by taking a look at the Jewish Testament (Christians’ OT). For Jaynes, even more than the Greeks, the Hebrews document the end of the BM. A summary of his arguments follows:
1. Contrasts Amos (8th century BC) with Ecclesiastes (2nd century BC) and argues that the former is clearly a BM. Amos speaks only as the voice of God, without introspection. Ecclesiastes, on the other hand, is full of introspection and rarely speaks in God’s voice or even as His agent.
2. Development of the nabiim (prophets). Jaynes believes that the proto-Hebrews (the khabiru) were the remnants of still-BM-dominated outcasts pushed to the edges of CM’ed civilizations. From these dregs emerged men like Amos who still heard gods’ (or God’s) voices and spoke for them (or Him).
Prophets became necessary because God was too remote. No longer heard, He was only seen, and then rarely in human form (such as a burning bush or a column of fire). They were required to bring some order to the inconsistent “voices.” The BM’s genius for enforcing social control and stable hierarchies was forever gone and God’s voice was saying different things to different people. Acceptable voices became orthodoxy; unacceptable ones became the ravings of the insane (a novel category as, in a BM’ed world, everyone was mad from a CM point of view).
3. Saul is the first fully conscious man in Hebrew history: He can’t hear God, he rebels against Samuel’s admonitions, and he lies.
I scant Part III because my fingers grow weary. It traces vestiges of the BM still found in the modern world. It will come as no surprise that schizophrenia is the clearest remnant but there are also oracles, possession (including glossolalia), poetry and music (see Singing for some recent speculations along these lines), and hypnosis.
As I’ve intimated, I’m not convinced Jaynes has stumbled upon the truth. His range of evidence is too narrow, too open to interpretation and largely unverifiable. But I also know that some remarkable evidence has emerged (see my recommendations above, among other works) that point to recent evolutionary changes in the human brain and it’s not inconceivable that our mentation could be markedly different even from that of ancestors within written memory. There is, too, the fact that we are only at the beginning of understanding the brain. Evolutionarily speaking, the CM is a newborn child of the mind, and how it interacts with its unconscious forebears is problematic.
In that spirit, I recommend reading this book.(less)