Humankind: A Hopeful History

In Chapter 16 the conversation centers around shifting paradigms in the criminal justice system, particularly comparing the Norwegian model of rehabilitation to the American model of retribution. Norway’s unique prison facilities, like Halden and Bastøy, are designed to rehabilitate rather than punish, operating under the guiding principle of “dynamic security.” This approach emphasizes creating normal living environments inside prison to prepare inmates for reentry into society. These are not just utopian ideals; Bregman cites evidence that supports this model, including dramatic reductions in recidivism rates and a 40% higher employment rate among ex-convicts.

Contrary to the retributive “broken windows theory” in the United States, which led to aggressive policing and high rates of incarceration, the Norwegian model is rooted in the assumption that most people are fundamentally decent. Bregman presents an alternative in the form of the “Dutch Approach,” which successfully curtailed violent political activism in the Netherlands through intelligence-based, non-demonizing strategies. A shift toward such community-based systems can be observed in the American context as well. North Dakota’s prison system, influenced by a visit to Norway by Leann Bertsch, the state’s Department of Corrections director, is beginning to see reductions in prison incidents and better conditions for both inmates and guards.

The chapter also critiques the pervasive influence of sociologist James Q. Wilson’s “broken windows theory,” which advocates for harsher punishments and stringent law enforcement. Wilson’s theory, put forth in the 1980s, was initially hailed as revolutionary, influencing policy decisions at the highest level. In this chapter, however, Bregman presents a counter-narrative supported by meta-analysis and case studies. The chapter reveals that crime rates fell in cities that did not adopt Wilson’s aggressive tactics and discusses the social and ethical costs of such policing, including increased misconduct and a disproportionate impact on marginalized communities.

The takeaway is that the Norwegian model is not only more humane but also economically efficient and empirically effective. Bregman thus calls for a change in thinking toward justice systems grounded in human decency and mutual trust, framing such a shift as a matter of common sense rather than political ideology.

Bregman explores the power of dialogue and contact through a historical moment that veered South Africa away from the brink of civil war. At the center of this dance of diplomacy was Nelson Mandela, whose release from prison in 1990 became a potent symbol of hope for the end of apartheid. However, the chapter emphasizes that the jubilance following Mandela’s election in 1994 punctuated a precarious period in South African history—a time when the nation teetered on the edge of chaos. The differing ideologies of two Afrikaner brothers, Constand and Abraham Viljoen, nearly ignited this tinderbox.

A meeting between Mandela and Constand Viljoen, held in a Johannesburg villa, encapsulates the essence of the “contact hypothesis,” a theory initially posited by American psychologist Gordon Allport. This theory suggests that prejudice and racism can be dismantled through meaningful interaction between divergent groups. The chapter provides robust evidence supporting this claim, referencing multiple studies and case examples. For instance, research conducted by the US military revealed that white service members who had served with Black soldiers were nine times less likely to hold prejudiced views.

But South Africa represented a complex milieu where Allport’s theory would be both challenged and vindicated. While Mandela and Abraham Viljoen advocated for unity and reconciliation, Constand Viljoen and his supporters resisted these overtures. Nonetheless, Mandela, conversing in Afrikaans and displaying a deep understanding of Afrikaner culture, convinced Constand Viljoen to abandon his militant path. Their dialogue led to further clandestine discussions and to Constand’s political participation, underscoring the chapter’s central thesis: that contact and dialogue, driven by empathy and kindness, can heal the deepest societal fissures.

The chapter cites sociological and psychological studies, including work by Thomas Pettigrew and Erica Chenoweth, to substantiate Bregman’s point. Pettigrew’s expansive research corroborated that positive interactions outnumber negative experiences in human memory, aligning with Mandela’s faith in the redemptive power of contact. Chenoweth’s empirical evidence reinforced the efficacy of nonviolent resistance, mirroring Mandela’s own transition from armed struggle to peaceful dialogue. The chapter culminates by acknowledging the laborious nature of this transformative process while also emphasizing its profound potential to rewrite social narratives and historical trajectories.

Bregman presents two vignettes that illuminate the fundamental goodness inherent in human beings, even in circumstances as dire as war. The chapter opens with the grim landscape of World War I, painting a vivid picture of a conflict that defied all sense of humanity. However, within this horrific backdrop, a striking event unfolded—the Christmas truce in 1914, when British and German soldiers momentarily ceased hostilities to celebrate the holiday together. This unlikely occurrence is substantiated by firsthand accounts from soldiers Albert Moren and Oswald Tilley. Resisting the relentless wartime propaganda that demonized the enemy, this spontaneous truce represents an acknowledgement of shared humanity that transcends violence.

The chapter’s narrative then jumps forward in time to the story of the Colombian ad agency, MullenLowe, and their unconventional yet effective campaigns against FARC, the oldest guerrilla army in Latin America. Instead of combatting the rebels with guns and bombs, the agency harnessed the power of empathy and familial connections. By interviewing former FARC members, the agency learned that these fighters, far from being mere killing machines, had the same basic needs and emotional complexities as any other people. Consequently, the agency launched innovative operations like “Operation Christmas” and “Operation Rivers of Light,” which targeted the emotional core of the rebels, leading many to surrender and reintegrate into society.

These two historical case studies serve as the underpinning for Bregman’s central argument: that human beings are fundamentally good. In each scenario, the characters involved defy dehumanizing narratives perpetuated by distant authorities to recognize the humanity in so-called enemies. The World War I truce and the Colombian campaign against FARC serve as symbols, juxtaposing the everyday experiences of individuals against the divisive politics of their respective settings. The Christmas truce emphasizes the gap between the genuine human connections formed in the trenches and the brutal characterizations from above. Similarly, the Colombian case shows that empathy and emotional resonance can achieve what traditional military campaigns cannot.

In the Epilogue, Bregman dismantles deeply ingrained societal beliefs that portray human nature as selfish and competitive, arguing instead for an inherent goodness in humanity. By synthesizing insights from various fields—psychology, anthropology, history, and more—the author asserts that a reevaluation of these false narratives could revolutionize social institutions, from schools to governance systems. The Epilogue opens with Bregman’s “Ten Rules to Live By,” the first of which advises, “When in doubt, assume the best.” To substantiate this point, Bregman cites research on negativity bias, demonstrating that although assuming the best might occasionally lead to disappointment, the overall benefits of a trusting disposition outweigh the costs.

In contrast to the popular self-help genre, which Bregman finds overly introspective, he calls for a collective reorientation of societal values. The text suggests that rational thinking and compassion are integral aspects of human identity. Citing scientific studies, Bregman argues that reason enables individuals to transcend emotional impulses, allowing for a deeper, more transformative compassion. This sentiment is pitted against the cynical and passive attitudes often perpetuated by modern news and social media platforms. Bregman uses evidence like the innovative societal approach in Wunsiedel, Germany, to support his claim that active, reasoned compassion can effect real change.

Additionally, Bregman addresses the psychological phenomenon of “elevation,” which inspires altruistic behavior. He notes that acts of generosity create a ripple effect, as demonstrated in a 2010 group experiment. However, the reluctance to publicly showcase such acts, especially in Western cultures, stifles this impact and reinforces cynicism. This limitation leads to the book’s climactic call to action: to redefine “realism.” Bregman challenges the modern equation of realism with cynicism, urging individuals to consider the inherent goodness in humans as the truest form of realism. This reframing, he argues, should catalyze individual change as well as a broader societal shift toward a new, more optimistic, and more accurate understanding of human nature. The Epilogue serves both as a summation of the book’s central thesis and as a practical guide for applying these principles in everyday interactions.