The Red Queen

Matt Ridley

• Editorial: Harper Perennial
• Año: 2012
• ISBN:
  9780062200716
• Categoría: Biological Sciences
• Categoría: Biology

"A terrific book, witty and lucid, and brimming with provocative conjectures." ( Wall Street Journal ) from the author of the acclaimed New York Times bestseller Genome

Brilliantly written, The Red Queen compels us to rethink everything from the persistence of sexism to the endurance of romantic love.

Referring to Lewis Carroll's Red Queen from Through the Looking-Glass, a character who has to keep running to stay in the same place, Matt Ridley demonstrates why sex is humanity's best strategy for outwitting its constantly mutating internal predators. The Red Queen answers dozens of other riddles of human nature and culture—including why men propose marriage, the method behind our maddening notions of beauty, and the disquieting fact that a woman is more likely to conceive a child by an adulterous lover than by her husband. The Red Queen offers an extraordinary new way of interpreting the human condition and how it has evolved.

Chapter 1

HUMAN NATURE

The most curious part of the thing was, that the trees and the other things round them never changed their places at all: however fast they went, they never seemed to pass anything. “I wonder if all the things move along with us?” thought poor puzzled Alice. And the Queen seemed to guess her thoughts, for she cried, “Faster! Don’t try to talk!”

—Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass

When a surgeon cuts into a body, he knows what he will find inside. If he is seeking the patient’s stomach, for example, he does not expect to find it in a different place in every patient. All people have stomachs, all human stomachs are roughly the same shape, and all are found in the same place. There are differences, no doubt. Some people have unhealthy stomachs; some have small stomachs; some have slightly misshapen stomachs. But the differences are tiny compared with the similarities. A vet or a butcher could teach the surgeon about a much greater variety of different stomachs: big, multichambered cow stomachs; tiny mouse stomachs; somewhat human looking pig stomachs. There is, it is safe to say, such a thing as the typical human stomach, and it is different from a nonhuman stomach.

It is the assumption of this book that there is also, in the same way, a typical human nature. It is the aim of this book to seek it. Like the stomach surgeon, a psychiatrist can make all sorts of basic assumptions when a patient lies down on the couch. He can assume that the patient knows what it means to love, to envy, to trust, to think, to speak, to fear, to smile, to bargain, to covet, to dream, to remember, to sing, to quarrel, to lie. Even if the person were from a newly discovered continent, all sorts of assumptions about his or her mind and nature would still be valid. When, in the 1930s, contact was made with New Guinea tribes hitherto cut off from the outside world and ignorant of its existence, they were found to smile and frown as unambiguously as any Westerner, despite 100,000 years of separation since they last shared a common ancestor. The “smile” of a baboon is a threat; the smile of a man is a sign of pleasure: It is human nature the world over.

That is not to deny the fact of culture shock. Sheeps’ eyeball soup, a shake of the head that means yes, Western privacy, circumcision rituals, afternoon siestas, religions, languages, the difference in smiling frequency between a Russian and an American waiter in a restaurant—there are myriad human particulars as well as human universals. Indeed, there is a whole discipline, cultural anthropology, that devotes itself to the study of human cultural differences. But it is easy to take for granted the bedrock of similarity that underlies the human race—the shared peculiarities of being human.

This book is an inquiry into the nature of that human nature. Its theme is that it is impossible to understand human nature without understanding how it evolved, and it is impossible to understand how it evolved without understanding how human sexuality evolved. For the central theme of our evolution has been sexual.

Why sex? Surely there are features of human nature other than this one overexposed and troublesome procreative pastime. True enough, but reproduction is the sole goal for which human beings are designed; everything else is a means to that end. Human beings inherit tendencies to survive, to eat, to think, to speak, and so on. But above all they inherit a tendency to reproduce. Those of their predecessors that reproduced passed on their characteristics to their offspring; those that remained barren did not. Therefore, anything that increased the chances of a person reproducing successfully was passed on at the expense of anything else. We can confidently assert that there is nothing in our natures that was not carefully “chosen” in this way for its ability to contribute to eventual reproductive success.

This seems an astonishingly hubristic claim. It seems to deny free will, ignore those who choose chastity, and portray human beings as programmed robots bent only on procreation. It seems to imply that Mozart and Shakespeare were motivated only by sex. Yet I know of no other way that human nature can have developed except by evolution, and there is now overwhelming evidence that there is no other way for evolution to work except by competitive reproduction. Those strains that reproduce persist; those that do not reproduce die out. The ability to reproduce is what makes living things different from rocks. Besides, there is nothing inconsistent with free will or even chastity in this view of life. Human beings, I believe, thrive according to their ability to take initiatives and exercise individual talent. But free will was not created for fun; there was a reason that evolution handed our ancestors the ability to take initiatives, and the reason was that free will and initiative are means to satisfy ambition, to compete with fellow human beings, to deal with life’s emergencies, and so eventually to be in a better position to reproduce and rear children than human beings who do not reproduce. Therefore, free will itself is any good only to the extent that it contributes to eventual reproduction.

Look at it another way: If a student is brilliant but terrible in examinations—if, say, she simply collapses with nervousness at the very thought of an exam—then her brilliance will count for nothing in a course that is tested by a single examination at the end of the term. Likewise, if an animal is brilliant at survival, has an efficient metabolism, resists all diseases, learns faster than its competitors, and lives to a ripe old age, but is infertile, then its superior genes are simply not available to its descendants. Everything can be inherited except sterility. None of your direct ancestors died childless. Consequently, if we are to understand how human nature evolved, the very core of our inquiry must be reproduction, for reproductive success is the examination that all human genes must pass if they are not to be squeezed out by natural selection. Hence I am going to argue that there are very few features of the human psyche and nature that can be understood without reference to reproduction. I begin with sexuality itself. Reproduction is not synonymous with sex; there are many asexual ways to reproduce. But reproducing sexually must improve an individual’s reproductive success or else sex would not persist. I end with intelligence, the most human of all features. It is increasingly hard to understand how human beings came to be so clever without considering sexual competition.

What was the secret that the serpent told Eve? That she could eat a certain fruit? Pah. That was a euphemism. The fruit was carnal knowledge, and everybody from Thomas Aquinas to Milton knew it. How did they know it? Nowhere in Genesis is there even the merest hint of the equation: Forbidden fruit equals sin equals sex. We know it to be true because there can only be one thing so central to mankind. Sex.

OF NATURE AND NURTURE

The idea that we were designed by our past was the principal insight of Charles Darwin. He was the first to realize that you can abandon divine creation of species without abandoning the argument from design. Every living thing is “designed” quite unconsciously by the selective reproduction of its own ancestors to suit a particular life-style. Human nature was as carefully designed by natural selection for the use of a social, bipedal, originally African ape as human stomachs were designed for the use of an omnivorous African ape with a taste for meat.

That starting point will already have irritated two kinds of people. To those who believe that the world was made in seven days by a man with a long beard and that therefore human nature cannot have been designed by selection but by an Intelligence, I merely bid a respectful good day. We have little common ground on which to argue because I share few of your assumptions. As for those who protest that human nature did not evolve, but was invented de novo by something called “culture,” I have more hope. I think I can persuade you that our views are compatible. Human nature is a product of culture, but culture is also a product of human nature, and both are the products of evolution. This does not mean that I am going to argue that it is “all in our genes.” Far from it. I am vigorously going to challenge the notion that anything psychological is purely genetic, and equally vigorously challenge the assumption that anything universally human is untainted by genes. But our “culture” does not have to be the way it is. Human culture could be very much more varied and surprising than it is. Our closest relatives, the chimpanzees, live in promiscuous societies in which females seek as many sexual partners as possible and a male will kill the infants of strange females with whom he has not mated. There is no human society that remotely resembles this particular pattern. Why not? Because human nature is different from chimp nature.

If this is so, then the study of human nature must have profound implications for the study of history, sociology, psychology, anthropology, and politics. Each of those disciplines is an attempt to understand human behavior, and if the underlying universals of human behavior are the product of evolution, then it is vitally important to understand what the evolutionary pressures were. Yet I have gradually come to realize that almost all of social science proceeds as if 1859, the year of the publication of the Origin of Species, had never happened; it does so quite deliberately, for it insists that human culture is a product of our own free will and invention. Society is not the product of human psychology, it asserts, but vice versa.

That sounds reasonable enough, and it would be splendid for those who believe in social engineering if it were true, but it is simply not true. Humanity is, of course, morally free to make and remake itself infinitely, but we do not do so. We stick to the same monotonously human pattern of organizing our affairs. If we were more adventurous, there would be societies without love, without ambition, without sexual desire, without marriage, without art, without grammar, without music, without smiles—and with as many unimaginable novelties as are in that list. There would be societies in which women killed each other more often than men, in which old people were considered more beautiful than twenty-year-olds, in which wealth did not purchase power over others, in which people did not discriminate in favor of their own friends and against strangers, in which parents did not love their own children.

I am not saying, like those who cry, “You can’t change human nature, you know,” that it is futile to attempt to outlaw, say, racial persecution because it is in human nature. Laws against racism do have an effect because one of the more appealing aspects of human nature is that people calculate the consequences of their actions. But I am saying that even after a thousand years of strictly enforced laws against racism, we will not one day suddenly be able to declare the problem of racism solved and abolish the laws secure in the knowledge that racial prejudice is a thing of the past. We assume, and rightly, that a Russian is just as human after two generations of oppressive totalitarianism as his grandfather was before him. But why, then, does social science proceed as if it were not the case, as if people’s natures are the products of their societies?

It is a mistake that biologists used to make, too. They believed that evolution proceeded by accumulating the changes that individuals gathered during their lives. The idea was most clearly formulated by Jean-Baptiste Lamarck, but Charles Darwin sometimes used it, too. The classic example is a blacksmith’s son supposedly inheriting his father’s acquired muscles at birth. We now know that Lamarckism cannot work because bodies are built from cakelike recipes, not architectural blueprints, and it is simply impossible to feed information back into the recipe by changing the cake.¹ But the first coherent challenge to Lamarckism was the work of a German follower of Darwin named August Weismann, who began to publish his ideas in the 1880s.² Weismann noticed something peculiar about most sexual creatures: Their sex cells—eggs and sperm—remained segregated from the rest of the body from the moment of their birth. He wrote: “I believe that heredity depends upon the fact that a small portion of the effective substance of the germ, the germ-plasm, remains unchanged during the development of the ovum into an organism, and that this part of the germ-plasm serves as a foundation from which germ-cells of the new organism are produced. There is, therefore, continuity of the germ-plasm from one generation to another.”³

In other words, you are descended not from your mother but from her ovary. Nothing that happened to her body or her mind in her life could affect your nature (though it could affect your nurture, of course—an extreme example being that her addiction to drugs or alcohol might leave you damaged in some nongenetic way at birth). You are born free of sin. Weismann was much ridiculed for this in his lifetime and little believed. But the discovery of the gene and of the DNA from which it is made and of the cipher in which DNA’s message is written have absolutely confirmed his suspicion. The germ-plasm is kept separate from the body.

Not until the 1970s were the-full implications of this realized. Then Richard Dawkins of Oxford University effectively invented the notion that because bodies do not replicate themselves but are grown, whereas genes do replicate themselves, it inevitably follows that the body is merely an evolutionary vehicle for the gene, rather than vice versa. If genes make their bodies do things that perpetuate the genes (such as eat, survive, have sex, and help rear children), then the genes themselves will be perpetuated. So other kinds of bodies will disappear. Only bodies that suit the survival and perpetuation of genes will remain.

Since then, the ideas of which Dawkins was an early champion have changed biology beyond recognition. What was still—despite Darwin—essentially a descriptive science has become a study of function. The difference is crucial. Just as no engineer would dream of describing a car engine without reference to its function (to turn wheels), so no physiologist would dream of describing a stomach without reference to its function (to digest food). But before, say, 1970, most students of animal behavior and virtually all students of human behavior were content to describe what they found without reference to a function. The gene-centered view of the world changed this for good. By 1980 no detail of animal courtship mattered unless it could be explained in terms of the selective competition of genes. And by 1990 the notion that human beings were the only animals exempt from this logic was beginning to look ever more absurd. If man has evolved the ability to override his evolutionary imperatives, then there must have been an advantage to his genes in doing so. Therefore, even the emancipation from evolution that we so fondly imagine we have achieved must itself have evolved because it suited the replication of genes.

Inside my skull is a brain that was designed to exploit the conditions of an African savanna between 3 million and 100,000 years ago. When my ancestors moved into Europe (I am a white European by descent) about 100,000 years ago, they quickly evolved a set of physiological features to suit the sunless climate of northern latitudes: pale skin to prevent rickets, male beards, and a circulation relatively resistant to frostbite. But little else changed: Skull size, body proportions, and teeth are all much the same in me as they were in my ancestors 100,000 years ago and are much the same as they are in a San tribesman from southern Africa. And there is little reason to believe that the gray matter inside the skull changed much, either. For a start, 100,000 years is only three thousand generations, a mere eye blink in evolution, equivalent to a day and a half in the life of bacteria. Moreover, until very recently the life of a European was essentially the same as that of an African. Both hunted meat and gathered plants. Both lived in social groups. Both had children dependent on their parents until their late teens. Both used stone, bone, wood, and fiber to make tools. Both passed wisdom down with complex language. Such evolutionary novelties as agriculture, metal, and writing arrived less than three hundred generations ago, far too recently to have left much imprint on my mind.

There is, therefore, such a thing as a universal human nature, common to all peoples. If there were descendants of Homo erectus still living in China, as there were a million years ago, and those people were as intelligent as we are, then truly they could be said to have different but still human natures.⁴ They might perhaps have no lasting pair bonds of the kind we call marriage, no concept of romantic love, and no involvement of fathers in parental care. We could have some very interesting discussions with them about such matters. But there are no such people. We are all one close family, one small race of the modern Homo sapiens people who lived in Africa until 100,000 years ago, and we all share the nature of that beast.

Just as human nature is the same everywhere, so it is recognizably the same as it was in the past. A Shakespeare play is about motives and predicaments and feelings and personalities that are instantly familiar. Falstaff’s bombast, Iago’s cunning, Leontes’s jealousy, Rosalind’s strength, and Malvolio’s embarrassment have not changed in four hundred years. Shakespeare was writing about the same human nature that we know today. Only his vocabulary (which is nurture, not nature) has aged. When I watch Anthony and Cleopatra, I am seeing a four-hundred-year-old interpretation of a two-thousand-year-old history. Yet it never even occurs to me that love was any different then from what it is now. It is not necessary to explain to me why Anthony falls under the spell of a beautiful woman. Across time just as much as across space, the fundamentals of our nature are universally and idiosyncratically human.

THE INDIVIDUAL IN SOCIETY

Having argued that all human beings are the same, that this book is about their shared human nature, I shall now seem to argue the opposite. But I am not being inconsistent.

Human beings are individuals. All individuals are slightly different. Societies that treat their constituent members as identical pawns soon run into trouble. Economists and sociologists who believe that individuals will usually act in their collective rather than their particular interests (“From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs”⁵ versus “Devil take the hindmost”) are soon confounded. Society is composed of competing individuals as surely as markets are composed of competing merchants; the focus of economic and social theory is, and must be, the individual. Just as genes are the only things that replicate, so individuals, not societies, are the vehicles for genes. And the most formidable threats to reproductive destiny that a human individual faces come from other human individuals.

It is one of the remarkable things about the human race that no two people are identical. No father is exactly recast in his son; no daughter is exactly like her mother; no man is his brother’s double, and no woman is a carbon copy of her sister—unless they are that rarity, a pair of identical twins. Every idiot can be father or mother to a genius—and vice versa. Every face and every set of fingerprints is effectively unique. Indeed, this uniqueness goes further in human beings than in any other animal. Whereas every deer or every sparrow is self-reliant and does everything every other deer or sparrow does, the same is not true of a man or a woman, and has not been for thousands of years. Every individual is a specialist of some sort, whether he or she is a welder, a housewife, a playwright, or a prostitute. In ...