Humankind: A Hopeful History

Bregman embarks on an examination of what truly sets humans apart as a species, debunking long-standing beliefs about human nature as he progresses. Beginning with an evolutionary context that places human existence at the brink of the cosmic timeline, the chapter probes the factors behind Homo sapiens’ rise to dominance. Discrediting the notion that humans occupy a special, divine place in nature, Bregman cites brutal examples like the parasitoid wasp to highlight nature’s indifference and the harsh realities of Darwinian selection.

The chapter takes a turn as Bregman then introduces revolutionary findings from Dmitri Belyaev’s daring experiment on silver foxes in Soviet Russia. The foxes, selectively bred for friendliness, not only became more docile but also experienced transformations in their physical features, such as softer fur and even a tendency to bark—attributes strikingly like those of domestic dogs. This experiment serves as a metaphor challenging deeply rooted assumptions about human nature as inherently selfish. In other words, Belyaev’s findings suggest that humans might have evolved according to the principle of “survival of the friendliest,” a suggestion backed up by evidence of hormonal shifts in the foxes and changes in human facial structure over time.

Further elaborating on what sets humans apart, Bregman discusses Brian Hare’s groundbreaking research on canine intelligence. Initially skeptical of dogs’ cognitive capabilities, Hare was astounded to find that dogs bred for friendliness exhibited higher levels of intelligence. This finding led him to conceptualize humans as “ultrasocial learning machines” exceptionally skilled at absorbing information from social interactions. To bolster this claim, Bregman cites features unique to human anatomy, such as eye-whites that reveal gaze direction. Such features, Bregman argues, emphasizes humanity’s evolutionary advantages in sociability and cooperation.

Bregman critiques societal models like Enron’s “Rank & Yank” system that encourage competition over cooperation. He argues that such models are at odds with humans’ evolved strengths, which lie in friendliness, cooperation, and the ability to learn socially. By weaving in evidence from genetic research, comparative tests with primates, and modern biological theories, the chapter challenges conventional wisdom and urges a reevaluation of long-standing narratives about what it means to be human. Friendliness may be not only a social virtue, Bregman concludes, but also the cornerstone of human evolution.

Bregman explores the relationship between humanity’s inherent kindness and potential for violence through scientific, anthropological, and historical perspectives. The chapter begins by dissecting the hormone oxytocin’s dual role; while it promotes kindness and relaxation within a social group, it also reinforces a mistrust of outsiders. This observation dovetails with the “killer ape theory” proposed by Raymond Dart and supported by Jane Goodall’s observations of brutal chimpanzee wars. Steven Pinker’s The Better Angels of Our Nature further seems to settle the argument, asserting that while humans have become less violent due to civilization, they are naturally inclined toward aggression.

The chapter pivots by introducing Samuel Marshall, a World War II historian who astonishingly found that most soldiers resisted firing at the enemy even under life-threatening conditions. Such claims were supported by various sources, including observations from the Battle of Gettysburg and surveys by French Colonel Ardant du Pica. These findings pose a profound contradiction to popular theories, suggesting that an aversion to killing might in fact be intrinsic to human nature.

Bregman builds on this observation by critiquing foundational works like Napoleon Chagnon’s The Fierce People and Steven Pinker’s The Better Angels of Our Nature for their methodological shortcomings. He points out that Pinker relies on flawed data sets from “hybrid” societies, and Chagnon’s research on the Yanomami people is biased, neglecting factors like the introduction of modern weapons into the society. The chapter further refutes the notion of humans as inherently violent by highlighting the scarcity of archeological evidence supporting organized warfare among early humans.

Drawing from a 2014 study on the Ache and the Hadza tribes, Bregman concludes that early humans had social networks that promoted peace and cooperation rather than violence. The chapter questions whether the scientific community and media are biased toward more violent interpretations of human behavior. The narrative advises reevaluating deep-seated assumptions about human nature, suggesting that solidarity might be more ingrained in humanity than violence. In making his case, Bregman presents an array of evidence to chip away at the long-held view that humans are naturally inclined to brutality, leaving room for a more optimistic understanding of what makes humans tick.

Bregman poses existential questions about human beings’ innate character, suggesting that prehistoric societies, such as the islanders of Italic and the !Kung, reflected a level of social cohesion and equality that modern society lacks. Such early societies, free from the vices of pride and greed, were led by achievement-based leaders and democratic decision-making. Bregman underlines this sense of communal well-being as perhaps the evolutionary edge Homo sapiens had over other hominins.

The chapter critically examines the subsequent transformation from this equalitarian state to a more complex societal structure. Key to this transformation was the shift to settled life and agriculture. While often deemed an “advancement,” according to Bregman, this shift in fact brought forth new challenges including societal hierarchy, territoriality, and the subsequent erosion of social equality. This shift thus marked the end of proto-feminism and set the stage for patriarchy, while also affecting public health negatively by the introduction of new diseases due to close-quarters living and animal domestication. Bregman contests the notion that settled life was an upgrade, citing historical texts like the Old Testament, which warns against the rise of kings and how small elites came to control the masses, causing societal fractures.

The chapter further undermines the conventional Hobbesian understanding that the rise of states provided safety and security. According to Bregman, early civilizations were essentially slave states built on systems of oppression, such as taxation facilitated by the invention of money. He cites legal institutions like the Code of Hammurabi, which punished escapees, painting a grim picture of the so-called “civilized” world. Further, Bregman challenges traditional perspectives by citing individuals like Benjamin Franklin, who found “savage life” preferable, and illustrating how the term “barbarian” was used pejoratively to stifle alternative viewpoints.

Modern scholars are cited as suggesting that the collapse of a civilization might not be an unalloyed disaster; rather, it may lead to periods of human creativity and freedom, evidenced by works like the Iliad and Odyssey that emerged from the “Greek Dark Ages.” Despite some undeniable modern advancements like poverty reduction and the elimination of slavery, Bregman concludes by cautioning the reader to consider the sustainability of current civilizations considering the impending ecological crises. In short, he questions the inherent virtue of civilization itself.

Bregman initially presents Easter Island as a cautionary tale of societal self-destruction, where a clash between two tribes—Long Ears and Short Ears—along with reckless deforestation led to both tribes’ demise. Utilizing historical accounts, scientific data, and expert opinions, Bregman introduces readers to the concept of societal failure because of human shortsightedness and depletion of limited resources. Scholars like Jared Diamond have long equated the island’s history to broader themes of environmental challenges and human behavior.

Bregman introduces Jan Boersema, an environmental biologist who reevaluates Easter Island’s history. Contrary to widely held belief, forensic studies found no signs of malnutrition or mass violence among the islanders. Boersema’s review of Jacob Roggeveen’s travel log from 1722 offers a new perspective: Easter Island was not a dying culture but an “earthly paradise.” By scrutinizing primary documents and relying on interdisciplinary research—from history to geology to anthropology—Bregman dismantles longstanding myths. For instance, the real reason for deforestation may have been the introduction of the invasive Polynesian rat, rather than human greed. Instead of presenting Easter Island as a cautionary tale, Bregman reframes the events as a testament to human ingenuity and adaptability.

Bregman then explores how external intervention and historical misrepresentation played significant roles in the island’s downfall. Despite a warm reception from the islanders, Dutch explorer Jacob Roggeveen responded with gunfire, killing several islanders. This attack set the stage for future disastrous interactions with Europeans, culminating in the arrival of Peruvian slavers in 1862. The slavers decimated the population and brought smallpox back to the island, leading to a further decline.

The chapter becomes an indictment against the oversimplification and misrepresentation of historical events. It reveals that the real tragedy of Easter Island was not the result of societal self-destruction but rather of misunderstandings and distortions perpetrated by external forces and scholarship. Bregman warns against the tendency to overlook complexity in favor of attractively packaged myths, thus contributing to an impoverished understanding of human nature and society.

By examining Easter Island from multiple angles, Bregman urges the reader to reconsider accepted narratives, underlining the importance of interdisciplinary research in understanding the complications of human behavior and society. Through his meticulous blend of anecdotes, case studies, and scientific data, he constructs a narrative that is both enlightening and cautionary, encouraging a more nuanced view of history.