Five Things I Expect My Core Belief To Do For Me

I want a core belief that does the following things for me. It should help me feel a little less terrified of death. It should point me towards a meaningful purpose in living. It should clarify the foundations of right and wrong. It ought to shed some light on the perpetual mix of joys and sorrows that make up daily life. And I want it to help get me through my darker hours.

For many people, a belief in god achieves these ends. For others, a focus on nature, on feeling at home in the cosmos, provides some answers. But for me, a heightened awareness of being a living thing and of the long story of life on earth best meets these criteria.

I’ve written about how the characteristics and history of biological life have helped me think about dying, purposefulness, and right and wrong. To recap, while I know that death is intrinsically repugnant to living organisms, I’m somewhat consoled by knowing that I’m a link in the mind-boggingly long chain of living things. Second, I believe that, though they may seem crude and irrelevant to humans, the biological drives to survive and reproduce are the roots of human purposes, even the lofty ones. And as for an understanding of right and wrong, I believe they have their roots in the cooperation and competition that mark all organic life. (I explain these point more fully in Finding Spirituality in Biology, tabbed at the top of the page.)

(mitchellkphotos.com)

(mitchellkphotos.com)

But I’m thinking here about the two other points mentioned in the first paragraph: that my core belief in livingness helps me make sense of the flux of daily joys and sorrows and that it guides me through the times when I feel lost or doubtful.

Daily life is a parade of negatives and positives, obstacles and low moods on the one hand, smooth sailing and good feelings on the other. The fluctuation never ceases. It can be wearying and puzzling. Is life no easier, no steadier? I think the dilemma is built deeply into being alive. There can’t be just joys, because joys result from overcoming difficulties. And there can’t be just difficulties because, if we never overcame them, we would be either numb or dead. Living things encounter the environment endlessly, and if we’re alive we’ve encountered most of them successfully, but they keep coming.

Finally, my core belief comes to my aid in those gloomy hours when I need a compass in front of me. At such moments, my belief in the value of life in and of itself reminds me that, first, my own being alive is enjoyable and good and I had better not take it for granted. And second, on a par with caring for myself is caring for and connecting with other lives—helping my wife, phoning a friend, making calls for Hillary, feeding the birds, checking the plants. Such activity is, of course, much of what I and many others do on any ordinary day . But putting my own well-being and that of others on the same plane changes how I feel about such actions. They all become service in the larger cause of life itself as a bounteous wonder.

My Genome and Me

Recently I sent the National Geographic genome project my DNA sample—on two Q-tips swabbed inside my mouth—and got back a report on the whereabouts of my ancestors over the last 50,000 years or so. I’d known pieces about my parents’ parents, all from different parts of Europe. But the DNA analysis showed me when their own early ancestors came to Europe out of Africa and what groups they belonged to when they got there.

Long before their journey, about 2 million years ago, earlier human species began migrating from Africa. Then about 60,000 years ago Homo sapiens began crossing Egypt and the Arabian peninsula. When we got to Europe, our cousins the Neanderthals were settled there and we settled down with them. Really, with them. My genetic make-up is 1.1% Neanderthal, which is the average for modern day non-Africans.

(crystallines.com)

(crystallines.com)

The genome report goes on to describe the two particular migrations on my mother’s and father’s sides out of Africa. On my father’s side, Branch H5 spread into Central Asia to points east and west, around 10,000 years ago. Today, H5 genes are common around the Black Sea and less so throughout Europe. Viking King Sven Estridsen, born in England but king of Denmark from 1047 to 1074, belonged to this group. He may have been one of my ancestors, but more likely he collected tribute from them.

On my mother’s side, Branch L2, about which less is known, left their genetic marker most frequently in Algeria, in northern Africa, but also in Asia and Europe, routes indicated quite clearly on the inset map.

Finally, there is my more recent regional ancestry, the combined information about both parents connecting me to any of 18 population groups around the world six or more generations ago. My genome links to three such groups. Forty-one percent of my DNA is descended from the Jewish Diaspora, the dispersal of Jews from the Near East, in this case into Europe. Thirty-one percent comes from Southern Europeans, the original peoples of the northern Mediterranean Coast. Finaly, 28% comes from Scandinavians, the most recent of the groups, since that area was peopled only after its glaciers melted around 12,000 years ago.

I’ve shared these results with family and friends, with mixed responses. Some find them too general to mean much. But they’ve also set off alarms about the pitfalls of knowing such information—about oneself or about others. The percentages and group identities make it tempting to imagine that a person is the way he or she is because of his or her ancestry—that I’m studious, for example, because of Jewish ancestry. But a genome, the full set of one’s genes, doesn’t work that way. True, some physical features, some potential abilities, and predispositions to some diseases are inherited. But our specific and individual characteristics depend as much if not more on the web of family, community, and culture and the flux of time. Saying a person has a specific characteristic because of his ancestral group is a shade less inaccurate than saying he has it because of his astrological sign.

For me, the genome history helps fill in my reveries about ancestors leading their particular lives a very long time ago. I picture a family walking in Eastern Europe, another farming in Italy, or a group crossing the water from Denmark, none of them knowing that far in the future, the paths of their descendants will come together in me. I imagine myself greeting them from their future and watching their surprised smiles as they realize who I am and as I tell them how often I’ve been thinking of them.

“There’s No Natural Selection For Happiness”

“Like evolution, history disregards the happiness of individual organisms” (p. 243) writes Yuval Noah Harari in Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind. Harari analyzes early human history for its indifference to personal well-being and its drive toward population growth—the same features that mark the forward motion of evolution. It is only in the modern era that civilization may be doing more for individual happiness, and that shift comes at the cost of leaving nature further behind.

It’s a provocative view. I, like many Americans, carry around a vague and positive sense of the “progress” of history— as I sit here with my computer, with food and water nearby in the kitchen, in a peaceful town. But Harari vividly sees the costs as well as the gains.

He looks at three “revolutions”: the Cognitive Revolution about 70,000 years ago, when we attained language and our current intelligence level; the Agricultural Revolution 10,000 years ago, when food gathering slowly gave way to food growing; and the Scientific Revolution of the last 500 years.

In between the Cognitive Revolution and the Agricultural one, intelligent foragers led healthy, mobile, and interesting communal lives. Their diet was varied, labor was not arduous, and humans were closely connected. But as they took up growing a very few crops, raising animals, and settling down, they gave up such lives in exchange for towns, cities, and elites. The food supply and the farmers themselves became susceptible to drought and disease, and daily labor became exhausting and monotonous. Agriculture led to larger populations but not happier ones. And it did so in small steps, as each new luxury—food storage, land ownership, cities—became a necessity that no one wanted to give up.

(islandbreath.blogspot.com)

(islandbreath.blogspot.com)

The process of irreversible steps towards a growing population is also the footprint of  successful evolution. Variation and reproduction are partners in trying to make a growing number of DNA copies, while along the way “There’s no natural selection for happiness” (386).

Since the Scientific Revolution 500 years ago, the ambivalence of cultural progress has deepened. Sapiens, Harari writes, have attained more control over nature while destroying a growing number of species. We have reduced extreme poverty and illness and raised global population numbers, but we’ve also raised material expectations and have raised individual discontent along with them. We Sapiens are on our way to becoming god-like in prolonging and even designing life itself, yet we remain in the dark about what we want to become in the future.

As we modify the human body more drastically, through surgery and genetics, will we even remain human? The “Brief History” in Harari’s title refers not only to the length of the book but also to the  question of the duration of Sapiens as a distinct species.

I found the first half of Sapiens, about the foraging era and the Agricultural Revolution, more compelling than the second part about recent trends. I don’t think we can effectively judge the deepest shifts in the era that we are still part of, and we are generally poor prophets. But the book is a fascinating application of evolutionary thinking.

I’ll conclude by letting Harari speak for himself, especially about language, the growing power of human “fictions,” social groups, and the foraging and agricultural cultures.

The new linguistic skills that modern Sapiens acquired about seventy millennia ago enabled them to gossip for hours on end. Reliable information about who could be trusted meant that small bands could expand into larger bands and Sapiens could develop tighter and more sophisticated types of cooperation…. Yet the truly unique feature of our language is not its ability to transmit information about men and lions. Rather, it’s the ability to transmit information about things that do not exist at all….Legends, myths, gods, and religions appeared for the first time with the Cognitive Revolution….Fiction has enabled us not merely to imagine things, but to do so collectively. We can weave common myths such as the biblical creation story, the Dreamtime myths of Aboriginal Australians, and the nationalist myths of modern states. Such myths give Sapiens the unprecedented ability to cooperate in large numbers. (21-25)

Sociological research has shown that the maximum ‘natural’ size of a group bonded by gossip is about 150 individuals….Below this threshold, communities, businesses, social networks and military units can maintain themselves based mainly on intimate acquaintance and rumour-mongering….But language enables us to create fictions, myths that could unite hundred of millions of people….Churches…States…Judicial systems are rooted in common myths….There are no gods in the universe, no nations, no money, no human rights, no laws and no justice outside the common imagination of human beings… [So-called “primitive” people] cement their social order by believing in ghosts and spirits. What we fail to appreciate is that our modern institutions function on exactly the same basis. Modern business-people and lawyers are, in fact, powerful sorcerers. (26-28)

Ever since the Cognitive Revolution, Sapiens have thus been living in a dual reality. On the one hand, the objective reality of rivers, trees and lions; and on the other hand, the imagined reality of gods, nations and corporations. As time went by, the imagined reality became ever more powerful, so that today the very survival of rivers, trees and lions depends on the grace of imagined entities such as the United States and Google. (32)

Sapiens did not forage only for food and materials. They foraged for knowledge as well. To survive, they needed a detailed mental map of their territory. To maximize the efficiency of their daily search for food, they required information about the growth patterns of each plant and the habits of each animal….Each individual had to understand how to make a stone knife, how to mend a torn cloak, how to lay a rabbit trap, and how to face avalanches, snakebites,or hungry lions….The human collective knows far more today than did the ancient bands. But at the individual level, ancient foragers were the most knowledgeable and skillful people in history. (48)

On the whole foragers seem to have enjoyed a more comfortable and rewarding lifestyle than most of the peasants, shepherds, labourers and office clerks who followed in their footsteps. …The forager economy provided most people with more interesting lives than agriculture or industry do….In most places at most times, foraging provided ideal nutrition… The foragers‘ secret of success , which protected them from starvation and malnutrition, was their varied diet. Farmers tend to eat a very limited and unbalanced diet….Ancient foragers also suffered less from infectious diseases. Most of the infectious diseases that have plagued agricultural and industrial societies (such as small pox, measles and tuberculosis) originated in domesticated animals and were transferred to humans only after the Agricultural Revolution….Average life expectancy was apparently just thirty or forty years, but this was due largely to the high incidence of child mortality. Children who made it through the perilous first years had a good chance of reaching the age of sixty, and some even made it to their eighties. (51)

[About 10,000 years ago,] Sapiens began devoting almost all their time and effort to manipulating the lives of a few animal and plant species. From sunrise to sunset humans sowed seeds, watered plants, plucked weeds from the group and led sheep to prime pastures.…  Scholars once proclaimed that the agricultural revolution was a great leap forward for humanity. They told a tale of progress fueled by human brain power. Evolution gradually produced ever more intelligent people. Eventually, people were so smart that they were able to decipher nature’s secrets, enabling them to tame sheep and cultivate wheat. As soon as this happened, they cheerfully abandoned the grueling, dangerous, and often Spartan life of hunter-gatherers, settling down to enjoy the pleasant, satiated life of farmers.

       That tale is a fantasy. There is no evidence that people became more intelligent with time. Foragers knew the secrets of nature long before the Agicultural Revolution, since their survival depended on an intimate knowledge of animals they hunted and the plants they gathered. Rather than heralding a new era of easy living, the Agricultural Revolution left farmers with lives generally more difficult and less satisfying than those of foragers. Hunter-gatherers spent their time in more stimulating and varied ways, and were less in danger of starvation and disease. The Agricultural Revolution certainly enlarged the sum total of food at the disposal of humankind, but the extra food did not translate into a better diet or more leisure….The Agricultural Revolution was history’s biggest fraud. (79)