Alexander 2006 Book Review The Challenge of Human Social Behavior
Alexander 2006 Book Review The Challenge of Human Social Behavior
Book Review
A review essay stimulated by Hammerstein, Peter (Ed.) 2003. Genetic and Cultural
Evolution of Cooperation. Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London, England: MIT
Press.
Richard Alexander, Professor Emeritus, Insect Division, Museum of Zoology, University of Michigan,
Ann Arbor, MI, 48109-1079, USA. Email: [email protected].
disturbing because it is possible that we alone may have as our principal “hostile
force of nature” (our principal competitor and predator) other groups within our own
species. This amity-enmity proclivity can be taken as not only a startling “original
sin” metaphor, but as the most important background of the problem of attempting to
reduce pain, misery, and suffering, and intentional shortening of human lifetimes
around the globe. The size of the problem can be glimpsed by the National
Geographic's recent (Jan. 2006, p. 30) review of 48 instances of mass murder during
the 20th century, totalling 50 million premature deaths (murders of single individuals
and small groups are not included). With regard to immediacy, the question for this
evolutionary biologist seems to be whether acknowledging and utilizing an approach
that primarily takes into account deep knowledge of the cumulative effects of our
history of differential reproduction can reduce aggressive and anti-social behaviors by
starting with studies of behavior itself, rather than having to struggle across, say,
decades until molecular, physiological, and developmental biology – and
archaeological, paleontological, and phylogenetic studies – have provided sufficient
information about complex sequences of causation to yield the broad behavioral
answers we require.
Including studies of cooperative behaviors of non human species, and of
molecules and cells, is of course an essential part of the best method of exploring
every possibility in the effort to discover how all aspects and systems of cooperation
and competition work. The range of recent studies encompassed in the volume is
impressive. As Robert Trivers said in his review in Science, “. . . if you want a very
broad view of the subject, treated in some depth, this [volume] is your baby.”
These authors are for the most part a long way from the people studying
cooperativeness in culture 55 years ago, when University of Michigan cultural
anthropologist Leslie White wrote in The Science of Culture that to expect an
anthropologist to see pattern in his own culture is like expecting a fish to discover
water. White saw culture “. . . as a thing sui generis, as a class of events and
processes that behaves only in terms of its own principles and laws and which
consequently can be explained only in terms of its own elements and processes.
Culture may thus be considered as a self-contained, self-determined process; one that
can be explained only in terms of itself.” There is a thread of truth in this statement,
and also an apparent error. The apparent error is that culture cannot be explained
entirely in terms of itself because its basis is ultimately an outcome of genetic
evolution and continues to be guided by differential reproduction, even if in large part
via evolved restraints on learning and channeling of learning. The thread of truth in
the statement is that culture has elements in how it changes, the speed of its changes,
and the forms it takes, that are related to genetic evolution in ways that may possibly
be unique, and that we still have not entirely clarified.
The task these contributing authors, and all students of evolution and human
behavior, have set for themselves is difficult almost beyond imagination. First, we are
required to analyze the very traits we are using to do the analyses. Second, the human
species is so distinctive as to severely restrict comparative study that depends on
themselves is the same task that armies of philosophers, social scientists, and other
humanistic thinkers have pursued across all of recent human history. But the
investigators represented in this volume differ from these armies of the past in
knowing that, barring truly dramatic new findings, to accomplish this most difficult
of all tasks requires that whatever is worked out must somehow be compatible with
the evolutionary process – with natural selection and differential reproduction. This is
why biological and social scientists not only investigate pattern changes in the
hominid line across time via fossils and environmental history, and employ the
extreme reductionism of nanotechnology and molecular biology, but as well try to
understand the whole modern human organism through a deep knowledge of the
evolutionary process.
The project set out in this book calls for understanding along multiple axes of
behavioral expression: deliberate and not deliberate, conscious and not conscious, and
known to be learned and not known to be learned. We cannot yet say that any
behavior is known not to be learned, partly because our definitions of learning are not
yet sufficiently precise, and partly because we know so very little about (1)
ontogenetic or developmental processes, both in general and with regard to specific
behaviors, (2) the cumulative effects of long-term genetic change (evolution), and (3)
cumulative learning changes (cultural change) – and how these forms of change act
and interact. We know too little about how non conscious and non deliberate acts
underlie and influence conscious intent, and vice versa. This is so partly because
questions about human social actions have so infrequently been asked in the context
of evolutionary functions.
It would seem obvious, then, that whoever seeks to set any bit of human
behavior into an evolutionary context that makes complete sense had better be
extraordinarily good at detecting every possible avenue of cost and benefit to
reproduction from every possible social act of humanity. Analyses that fail in this
respect necessarily fail in their conclusions. Even if we are properly sympathetic
about the difficulty of the tasks the investigators represented in this volume have
chosen, we are not likely to be forgiving when everyday causes and effects are not
taken into account, or are interpreted incompletely. If we say that something humans
do is not compatible with evolution because we missed something, the error is not
trivial.
Only persistence ultimately counts in evolution, and only the stable and
duplicative process of reproduction characteristic of the genetic materials results in
persistence. Short-lived genomes and the short-lived individuals that result from them
are the agents of the genes’ persistence, and they are as specialized to this task as the
genes are to the task of persistence. Accordingly, no matter how distasteful it may
seem, every investigator of human behavior who wishes to understand human social
behavior is required, at the very least, to test to the last detail for evidence of
genetically self-serving function in every human action.
In such light, it is a virtual certainty that some tests of human social behavior
will appear – at first – to yield results contrary to evolution, or unexplainable by it.
I am initially uneasy about the approach suggested by the title of the volume,
“Genetic and Cultural Evolution of Cooperation,” which may imply that non cultural
behaviors are “genetic” and cultural behaviors are “non genetic”; that the two are
separate rather than part of the same process; that there is no connection between
them; that environments and phenotype, and processes like learning, may not be
involved in genetic evolution. Even if we have not previously understood the nature
of the connections between genes and environment, it is too easy, from such an
impression, to forget that all behaviors – indeed, by definition, all aspects of the
phenotype – are neither entirely “genetic” nor entirely “environmental.” Directions
and patterns of cultural change are not independent of the (overall) genetic makeup of
humans, and sometimes may either include or result in some genetic change.
Although some discussions of learning in this volume are sophisticated and seem to
be on target (e.g., Henrich et al, pp. 448-451), others raise questions of the sort
implied by the nature of the book title (e.g., Hammerstein, p 5; Richerson et al p.
366, 381).
Flinn and Alexander (1982) detailed four reasons for believing that “. . . the
culture-biology [or culture-genetic] dichotomy derives from continued
misunderstanding and misstatement of certain aspects of biological theory.” I will add
to them here, and state them somewhat differently:
One has to wonder if the “genetic and cultural” dichotomy in the title of this
volume is intended to refer to genetic change via natural selection versus cultural
change via learning: that is, natural selection on organisms that lack culture (or
selection on traits other than culture) versus the kind of change via cumulative social
learning that Dawkins (1976) intended when he spoke of memes as changing
independently of their consequences to the organisms using them – i.e., operating as
parasites on humans – and that others may intend when they speak of “dual
inheritance” models. But genetic change – at least in today’s world – in general
proceeds via the (reproductive) improvement of phenotypes (organisms, traits) that
result from the interaction of gene effects (via genotypes) with variable environments.
Culture is part of the human phenotype, part of the environment within which genes
must survive by reproducing, so we must at least begin with the hypothesis that
cultural traits differ from other traits primarily in the sense that much of cultural
change proceeds via behaviors cumulatively learned from generation to generation.
The problem of understanding culture, then, seems to be a matter of focusing on how
evolution has biased and guided learning so as to cause directions and rates of
changes in learned behaviors, and how cumulative changes in learning contribute to
the reproductive success of the individuals comprising the populations that create,
exercise, and maintain the patterns of culture (see also sections below on culture and
memes).
When humans became able to build scenarios and plan what they were going
to do, they completed the feedback between need and novelty that organic evolution
had otherwise never been able to accomplish. This feedback is surely critical for
understanding the rates and directions of cultural change. Evolutionarily novel
environments are like phenotypic mutations because (1) they change the phenotype in
the way that genetic mutations change the genotype, thereby influencing the direction
of both cultural change and genetic change (most selection, having no access to the
genome, works on the phenotype and affects the genome only indirectly); and (2)
especially in non human organisms, evolutionarily novel environments are typically
negative in their effects on organisms because their causes (changes in the
environment, including the social environment, and also any learning that is well
outside the box with respect to favoring the genes that initially created the flexible
phenotype) are, like the causes of mutations (primarily atmospheric radiation),
independent of the causes of selection – Darwin's Hostile Forces of Nature. But,
owing to our ability to build elaborate mental scenarios, humans became capable of
creating novel environments that instead have predictably positive effects – for
example, dreaming up how to construct a plow or a computer or a theory of relativity
(Alexander 1979, 1990a).
The feedback between environmental novelty and phenotypic change (leave
aside genetic change for a moment) is, of course, why culture marches on so rapidly
and so directionally, and why it tends to accelerate; and it is surely why the brain
evolved to become what it is now (taking into account that socially significant
scenarios were probably the most important ones). In other words, the effect on the
evolution of certain traits, such as the brain's capabilities, represents a focusing of
genetic evolution as a result of changes in the evolutionary environment induced by
the human ability to plan inside the brain in "fruitful" ways; and it is responsible for
an itinerary of phenotypic change via cumulative learned-learning piggy-backed on
scenario-building and in some regards (or temporarily) "exceeding" or "outrunning"
genetic change. In the sense just described, phenotypic changes as a result of
environmental changes, including social learning, “lead” both genetic evolution and
cultural change (West-Eberhard 2003), and surely do so in humans on a scale that is
huge – and more dramatically explanatory of the actual processes involved – than in
any other organisms. Compared to the part of cultural change dependent on this
feedback, most of the overall genetic change in humans today, affecting social traits –
in all the diverse, mobile, and interbreeding human populations in the almost
endlessly variable environments across the globe –may be best regarded as a kind of
evolutionary fibrillation.
Any change in the phenotype because of a change in the environment will in
turn change the direction of selection, therefore the direction of genetic evolution.
Humans are the all-too-obvious case because not only does even learning "mutate"
the phenotype, changing that aspect of the environment of the genome and the
direction of selection, but the transmission of learned behavior by learning creates a
parallel to genetic evolution (culture) while also guiding genetic evolution – in this
case to produce our most vaunted organ, the social-tool brain.
The participants in this conference make it clear that they at least begin by
recognizing nepotism and reciprocity as the two major kinds of social interactions
that facilitate, account for, or comprise culture, therefore including all of human
social cooperation. Nepotism extends from (1) simple direct nepotism to a single
class of relatives, requiring only the ability to distinguish relatives and non relatives,
or offspring, from all other individuals to (2) extensive differential nepotism, in
which multiple classes of relatives are recognized as such and treated appropriately to
their relatedness (Hamilton 1964). Extensive differential nepotism may be unique to
humans (Alexander 1990b, 1991).
Social reciprocity varies along two central axes: (1) amount of risk (and
potential return) involved and (2 directness of returns for beneficence (see also,
below). Minimal-risk reciprocity (e.g., the simplest forms of tit-for-tat and parceling)
occurs among many non human animals, typically involving immediate and parceled
exchanges (Connor, 1992). High risk reciprocity is extensively involved in modern
human social behavior, and perhaps only there. Reciprocity can be either direct or
indirect (Trivers 1971; Alexander 1987; see below).
Among other things the authors of this volume follow Nowak and Sigmund
(1998) in seeking to discover whether differential nepotism and direct and indirect
reciprocity are sufficient to explain culture. At least some of them seem to disagree
with the conclusions of Nowak and Sigmund that they are sufficient.
Nepotism
behavior, especially among distant relatives; that kinship is one of many possible
conventions used to define in-groups that compete with out-groups; and that "In
effect, unilineal kin groups [which to him seem contrary to kin selection] are a means
of forming coalitions to compete with other coalitions." They are also reflections of
male dominance (hence, sometimes, patrilinearity and patrilocality) and the
importance of cooperativeness within one sex (as when related and unrelated men in
patrilocal societies cooperate in hostile encounters with other groups, or related
women in matrilocal societies cooperate to work gardens that are inherited
matrilineally). Smith’s evaluation of kinship systems sometimes parallel the
comments of Marshal Sahlins (1965), which I have criticized in detail (Alexander
(1977; 1979: pp. 197-202). Rather than casting doubt on the central importance of
understanding kinship systems, Smith’s observations seem to highlight the
importance of (1) knowing the fine details in the makeup of kinship systems, (2)
understanding what extrinsic forces mold the cooperativeness of kin and reciprocity
groups and thus how the two systems co-mingle, and (3) recognizing that, as with
modern societies, cooperative kin groups are changing continually with regard to
forces molding unity, rather than remaining in static relations that are simple to
understand (see below).
Reciprocity
(society-wide) norms of reciprocal conduct.” (p. 52). Trivers also noted that one
mechanism for establishing reciprocal relationships “might be the performing of
altruistic acts toward strangers, or even enemies, in order to induce friendship.” These
comments I see as relevant to arguments about reciprocity made by authors in this
volume.
Generalized reciprocity, as Trivers used it, thus refers to multiparty systems
that incorporate both direct and indirect reciprocity. I used the adjective “indirect” to
avoid confusion with generalized reciprocity, as used by Sahlins (1965) in a way that
included investments in relatives with investments in non relatives that do not involve
expectations of direct reciprocity (Alexander 1975, 1977, 1979). Indirect reciprocity I
defined as “represented by rewards from society at large, or from other than the actual
recipient of beneficence” (Alexander 1979, p. 49; 1987, p. 85).
Direct reciprocity, then, is when someone is reciprocated by the person he or
she has helped. Indirect reciprocity is all the rest – all the circumstances in which the
return for social investment comes from someone(s) other than the assisted party. So
far as I can tell, so-called "strong" reciprocity – as discussed in this volume – is, first,
not reciprocity at all unless one identifies and describes the returns on social
investment, which the authors who use this term typically leave vague and sometimes
seem to be denying. Even with the returns included, it seems to be an indicator of the
intensity of reciprocity – the willingness of participants in a society-wide system of
reciprocity to invest – rather than a “kind” of reciprocity. An evolutionary biologist
assumes that there are returns, or the tendency to invest will eventually collapse.
Punishment of those who don't invest socially, or who break the rules, can thus be an
example of indirect reciprocity whenever it is directly or indirectly in the interests of
the punitive person (investor) that those rules not be broken. It is extremely difficult
to be certain that no return – actual or legitimately expected – is involved in a human
action (or transaction) such as “strong reciprocity” because of (1) the possibility of
indirect reciprocity, (2) long-time delays in returns, and (3) what I will call the
“insurance factor.” Burnham and Dominic (2005) conclude that strong reciprocity
cannot be explained by group selection, kin selection, or reciprocal altruism (see also,
below).
Indirect reciprocity occurs not only when one individual helps another and is
himself or herself helped later by some other individual(s) because of that initial help.
It also occurs whenever anyone does something designed (consciously or
unconsciously – i.e., by evolution, directly or indirectly) to save the entire group
(some "entire" group, small or large). This kind of investment is adaptive, for
example, when the fate of the individual approaches that of the "entire" group: the
canoe rushing toward the deadly waterfall; imminent or actual attack by another
human group, especially if they are deemed to be bent on genocide; etc. There doesn't
have to be any witnessing of the investment, or returns from any specific
individual(s). It can all be entirely anonymous because the helping individual is also
helping him- or her-self, as is required in reciprocity that persists. Nor does the
situation have to be understood consciously. Hence, contrary to virtually all current
usage, effects on the reputation of individual investors are not an essential ingredient
in all kinds of indirect reciprocity.
In my 1987 discussion of indirect reciprocity (the most recent and best source
for a review of my views on that topic), I said the following: "Returns from indirect
reciprocity may take at least three major forms: (1) the beneficent individual may
later be engaged in profitable reciprocal interactions by individuals who have
observed his behavior in directly reciprocal interactions and judged him to be a
potentially rewarding interactant (the ‘reputation’ or ‘status’ of the investor is
enhanced, to his or her ultimate benefit), (2) the beneficent individual may be
rewarded with direct compensation from all or part of the group (such as with money
or a medal or social elevation as a hero), and (3) the beneficent individual may be
rewarded by simply having the success of the group within which he or she behaved
beneficently contribute to the success of his or her own descendants and collateral
relatives."
Leaving aside maladaptive accidents or errors, I can think of at least three
other possible adaptive (indirect reciprocity) explanations for what some authors in
this volume call "one-shot" social investments: (4) the return may be to the beneficent
individual’s relatives or friends, and the nature of social information spread as a result
may be such as to make this kind of return consistent with investment being self-
serving; (5) The investment may also be done as part of the individual practicing how
to engage in reciprocity adaptively, as with individuals who practice while alone for
success in, say, being humorous, or in lecturing, or in developing a useful conscience,
or any other social behavior (i.e., as a way of learning how to invest socially in a
more rewarding – more profitable – way). This is not reciprocity per se, nor is it
evidence of net-cost beneficence; rather, it is investment that in the end functions to
improve the individual’s later engagement in social reciprocity. In my experience we
do this kind of thing all the time, and I regard it as an essential part of knowing how
to behave socially in one's own interests. Finally, (6), the investment may be part of
an individual’s effort explicitly to elevate the general level of reciprocity in society.
Thus, generous donations to people affected by a disaster, or efforts to enlist in the
armed forces at the onset of war, can have snowballing effects on donations or rates
of enlistment that raise the level of social investment generally – and may benefit the
individual by various indirect reciprocity returns. Whenever the general level of
social investment is raised, all persons had better pay attention and act wisely, or they
will be viewed as laggards or self-serving and stingy. It is not necessary, however,
that the reputation of any individual contributing to the rise in social investment be
involved. Such donations can be entirely anonymous and the donor can still gain, as
whenever his or her interests are close to those of the entire group.
General changes in levels of beneficence, or risk-taking with acts of
beneficence within a society, if they are adaptive, are adjustments of systems of
indirect reciprocity. Anyone who carries out acts that raise the level of beneficence
within a society is investing in indirect reciprocity. There may often be huge risks –
and frequent losses – involved in individual attempts to change society toward a
greater level of beneficence. But, obviously, there can also be huge benefits, either in
the form of rewards directly to the social beneficence pioneer, or to the anonymous
pioneer in the particular form of a generally more beneficent society which may (a)
increase the likelihood of a healthy persistence of the society harboring the pioneer's
circle of kin and/or (b) yield an outright bias of benefits to the kin of the social
pioneer. When you cannot move from one group to another, or cannot do so
inexpensively, it is virtually a given that your interests will now and then tend to
approach those of your group. An obvious example is the sexual genome between the
moment of zygote formation and the ultimate death of the resulting individual. Not
surprisingly, given the way the meiotic process works to equalize the reproductive
likelihoods of all genes, the genes in such a genome tend to cooperate almost
completely; the strength of our attention to the trivially few exceptions (e.g., meiotic
drive) supports the point. In wholly asexual organisms most conflicts of interests are
permanently erased, so that the genome in essence becomes the functional gene
(Alexander 1993).
Genic cooperation – within the genome – during the lifetime of the organism
was presaged by Theodosius Dobzhansky (1961) in this profound observation, or
hypothesis: “Heredity is particulate, but development is unitary. Everything in the
organism is the result of the interactions of all genes, subject to the environment to
which they are exposed. What genes determine are not characters, but rather the ways
in which the developing organism responds to the environment it encounters.” I
interpret Dobzhansky’s statement to mean that, contrary to virtually all opinion in
biology up to that time, all genes are both pleiotropic and epistatic. Yet none of us
would argue that the probably uncountable and presumably unrestricted and
uninhibited “social investments” of the genes in the genome are somehow contrary to
evolution because there are no easily visible or measurable returns. The returns are
realized by individual genes via the success of the genome because of the unity of
function of the organism.
In evolutionary analysis, it is wrong to think of reciprocity as altruism, or as
done (solely) for the benefit of another. It cannot be (evolved) reciprocity unless on
average it serves both parties. Thinking that if someone else is being helped, the act is
done "for" that someone else, rather than (in the end) for one's self leads to confusion
when someone invests in the survival of a "whole group" that serves the investor by
simply surviving, because the act is then seen as egoistic – i.e., the group is being
saved because this saves the individual, so reciprocity (beneficence) must not be
involved. All evolved beneficence has to be egoistic on average unless it is nepotistic
(phenotypic returns are not necessary for beneficence to a relative to be adaptive).
Because we have apparently evolved to convince ourselves of something socially
useful to us about our motivations does not change the way the evolution of
reciprocity proceeds. Thus, to insist that we “care about” a person we are about to
help must mean that for some reason we have decided that he or she is a good bet to
return our kindnesses with interest (or else the return will be from potential
reciprocators or reputation-builders among the observers of our beneficence). The
hypothesis to falsify is that we “care about” persons we help because we stand to gain
from helping them, whether or not we think so or admit it – to ourselves or anyone
else. The reason for the argument that saving our whole group cannot benefit us
(differentially) is likely that we are (erroneously) thinking that "the group" is our only
source of competition. But there are always other groups out there – and other
competitive individuals – and we cannot continue in competition with them if we
have perished with the group we refused to help.
In 1993, I discussed the question of unity of development and function in the
organism as follows:
With regard to direct reciprocity, and behaviors that seem not to match current
evolutionary models, Joan Silk’s chapter (p. 37) is titled provocatively, “Cooperation
without Counting: The Puzzle of Friendship.” She notes that “A considerable body of
empirical work indicates that people value balanced reciprocity in their relationships
with friends, but avoid keeping careful count of benefits given and received, and are
offended when friends reciprocate immediately and directly.” “Thus,” she says, “the
dynamics of friendship does not fit the logic of models of reciprocity and presents a
puzzle for evolutionary analysis.” Later she concludes: “None of our models of
reciprocity can accommodate the psychology of human friendship.”
Silk is not alone in drawing this conclusion, and indeed her conclusion is cited
elsewhere in this volume, either neutrally or favorably, suggesting that puzzlement is
widespread. But one everyday form of social reciprocity (or investment in social
reciprocity) is called insurance, a concept I did not find in this volume, but that has
been mentioned in this context (Alexander 1975, 1979). Formally, insurance is a
contractual promise that the party in need will be helped no matter the cost to the
insurer from having to give the aid at particular times or in particular circumstances
that incidentally make it unusually expensive for the insurer. This kind of promise is
perhaps the central component, and ultimate test, of “real” friendship. A supposed
friend that insists on repaying social debts immediately, at the “friend’s” own
convenience, is in fact denying friendship – denying the promise of assistance
whenever needed regardless of the cost to the reciprocator as a result of
(unpredictable) timing and situation. That is the reason for getting upset when a
friend carefully repays promptly. “Real” friendship means that either friend is willing
to insure the other in the way just described – including willingness to do more than
repay previous favors (in formal insurance, more than has been paid into the
contract), and that the insurance continues as long as the friendship endures (see also,
Nesse 2001, on commitment).
Millions of people pay regularly across their entire lives to maintain multiple
formal contracts with insurance companies to provide special kinds of assistance in
special kinds of disasters or calamities. Mostly they wish never to have to collect on
those policies. Insurance companies are thus paid to be there, like friends, prepared
and willing to supply assistance when it is needed. Insurance thus seems a suitable
model for the kind of friendship Silk is discussing, and for the problem she sees in
explaining friendship according to existing models of reciprocity (Alexander 1979, p.
51).
On p. 446, Henrich et al refer to Joan Silk’s chapter on friendship as
discussing “seemingly costless acts of contrition and apologies” as “atonements” for
social “violations.” If acts of contrition and apologies are costless, we should imagine
that they are always given without reluctance. Yet we know that they are often
withheld fiercely and obstinately – even fearfully, and in the face of death. It is worth
looking again to assess the costs and benefits of any act of attrition or apology, and
wrong to assume that changes in prestige and “losing face” involve no reproductive
costs.
Friendship as insurance must be distinguished from the commitment that
accompanies spousal relations and nepotism, because these interactions involve
genetic returns in the absence of social reciprocity at the phenotypic level. The
“friendship” or “insurance” kind of reciprocity, however, can occur between
individuals that are not “special” friends within their group. It is probably often
virtually universal within small stable communities because its sometimes large and
public cost to the investor can make it essential that individuals receiving the kind of
help it yields respond in kind whenever the opportunity arises. The power of indirect
reciprocity within, for example, farming or other communities where the same
families have lived together for generations, can cause behaviors that appear to
outside observers to be unreciprocated or even “unreciprocatable” altruism. But no
act of beneficence need go unrewarded in a situation in which all acts of beneficence
are known to all group members, and in which all group members are aware that
times will almost certainly come when they too need assistance. Much of the time
there is no actual weighing of social investments because everyone knows that
everyone else will do whatever is needed when it is needed. If someone’s house or
barn is destroyed by fire or wind, everyone may participate enthusiastically in its
replacement, regardless of any personal histories other than the general pattern of
cooperativeness in the community. Perhaps, when the melding of direct and indirect
reciprocity is somehow “complete,” or approaches an “ideal,” meaning partly that
everyone in the community knows it (or behaves as though it is universally known),
asymmetries in beneficent acts lack significance because of confidence about long-
term insurance-like effects. This is one of the circumstances in which a “one-shot”
test or view of social investment may be thought to be inconsistent with evolution.
At the "ultimate" or “ideal” level of morality, individuals may not only be
indifferent to costs of beneficence but may strive to maximize the benefits (to others)
of their own cooperative or beneficent acts. This level will work, for example, when
all of the interests of the individuals in a community are identical (either temporarily
or permanently); again, this will happen whenever no one can change groups (or
changing groups is extremely unlikely and expensive) and the individual’s success
therefore depends on the success of the group. Everyone will gain from looking for
all possibilities to help others and then helping as much as possible, limiting help
only when too much help or misdirected help will impair future helping sufficiently
to damage the overall cooperative efforts of the collective. An example, already cited,
is the genes in a genome, between meiotic events in sexual organisms, and all the
time in entirely asexual organisms (Alexander 1993). But this case is surely an
outcome of mutualism rather than social reciprocity,
our own lives, or the lives of our most precious relatives, in inter-group
confrontations. Some evolutionary biologists regard such willingness as a result of
duping, but I don't think the basis for it can legitimately be so categorized; after all,
almost any adaptive behavior can be manipulated so as to become maladaptive to
someone. In 1987, I cited the case of Japanese soldiers near the end of World War II,
reported to have volunteered 100%, and then competed with each other, for the
privilege of operating suicidal submarine-like one-man plywood vessels to destroy
U.S. ships expected to participate in the invasion of Japan. It is probably no accident
that this was happening in a society in which, historically at least, a single relative
believed to have acted in a dishonorable way could cause family members to commit
suicide in shame, or have all their relatives penalized socially if they did not. Similar
suicide missions are known in societies in which for various reasons young men, in
particular, are disenfranchised with regard to climbing the usual ladders of affluence
within the society.
Because selection does not adjust sex ratios to reflect marriage or mating
systems, polygyny – and the power to successful males that correlates with polygyny,
arranged marriages, and exchanges of daughters – may be one such reason. It ought
not to be surprising that some large proportion of willing “suicide bombers” are
young men coming from polygynous societies – or societies recently polygynous and
still retaining some of the consequent structure – or that young men are lured into
suicide attacks by the promise of accessibility to a large number of virgins after
death: 10,000 polygynous men in a society that allows harems of four wives
disenfranchise 10-30,000 young males. Surely, the establishment of climbable ladders
of affluence within every society, including reasonable access to marriage partners at
appropriate times in life, is a significant component in the establishment and
maintenance of tendencies toward democratic and peaceful governments.
I have argued previously that rapid and repeated alternation between the two
conflicting extremes of inter-individual competitive striving within groups and
patriotic cohesion in inter-group competition and aggression (ID-IG Alternation?)
may be required to account for the evolution of complexity in the human psyche, and
our enormous investments in parental care – hence, the value of coordinated sets of
human traits, such as concealment of ovulation, confidence of paternity, extended
biparental care, infant altriciality, menopause, and the long human juvenile life during
which rapid and extensive learning prepares the juvenile for later adulthood in the
complexity of human sociality (Alexander 1989, 1990a, 2005).
playing them – all of these things – all six of the above kinds of returns from indirect
reciprocity – must be taken into account when considering whether the games are
consistent with evolution.
Silk also finds the relationship that Alexander and others have suggested
between differential nepotism and social reciprocity “unconvincing because it
assumes that people are less flexible in their behavior than other primates.” I am
puzzled by this impression. The reference she cites to my own work includes the
following (1979, p. 50, see also pp. 52-58, Historical relationships between Nepotism
and Reciprocity): “In human history, expansion of nepotism to non descendant
relatives and increasing group size must have set the stage for an increasing
prominence of reciprocal transactions. In large and highly organized states or nations,
as compared to simpler forms of social organization, indirect reciprocity must
generally be more prominent – indeed, probably a criterion. Simple bands must have
been predominantly systems of nepotism to descendant and non-descendant relatives
with relatively little complexity in reciprocal transactions. Opportunities to engage
advantageously in reciprocal transactions must have begun to appear as systems of
nepotism among non-descendant relatives became extensive and complex, which also
increases the potential for cheating by recipients of nepotism. Selective pressures
leading to larger groups thus promoted increased engagement in reciprocal
transactions, and increasingly elaborate social cheating and ability to detect and
thwart it. (From Alexander, 1977).”
The caution to “Never do business with relatives” carries within it an
explanation: The plus side of doing reciprocity with a relative is that it involves less
risk than helping a non relative for the particular reason that if the relative does not
reciprocate some potential gain remains for the donor because of the sharing of genes.
The risk, or downside, of doing “business” with a relative is that the relative may
welsh explicitly because the donor is a relative, and will not be expected to take
revenge or exert effort to damage the relative seriously, including by giving it a bad
reputation (Alexander 1979).
There is no suggestion in the passage quoted above – or of any other that I
know about – of the kind of behavioral inflexibility Silk seems to be invoking.
Instead, it describes a kind of flexibility that allows us to absorb the increased risk of
doing reciprocity with increasingly distant relatives and thereby pre-adapts us to step
right into doing the same with non-relatives in ways profitable to both parties.
Extensive differential nepotism – known only in humans and apparently universal
among humans – assumes almost exactly the same form as reciprocity, especially
under certain conditions. Thus, nepotism involves risky investment (the relative may
die, or for some reason not use the assistance to reproduce its genes or not use it as
well as another relative to whom it might have been given). And it involves a return
leading to an increased success in reproduction – more direct in nepotism but just as
Richerson et al say two things in their chapter (p. 366) that are intriguing in
the effort to understand culture: “Many evolutionary social scientists assume that
culture is a strictly proximate mechanism, akin to individual learning (e.g., Alexander
1979), or is so strongly constrained by evolved psychology as to be virtually
proximate (Wilson 1998). As Alexander (1979, p. 80) puts it, ‘Cultural novelties do
not replicate or spread themselves, even indirectly. They are replicated as a
consequence of the behavior of vehicles of gene replication.’ We think both theory
and evidence suggest that this perspective is dead wrong.”
Richerson et al then continue by discussing the question of group selection
among competitive human groups. They note that “Hamilton (1975), Wilson (1975,
pp. 561-562), Alexander (1987), and Eibl-Eibsfeldt (1982) have given serious
consideration to group selection as a force in the special case of human ultra-
sociality”(italics in original). They make the valuable point that “For some of the
most violent groups among simple societies, wife capture is one of the main motives
for raids on neighbors, a process that could hardly be better designed to erase genetic
variation between groups, and stifle genetic group selection.” They mean that for
group selection to be potent – to be responsible for changes in the genetic makeup of
humans, as opposed to potentially different directions of selection at lower levels of
organization – the groups involved must be sufficiently genetically different.
My first lengthy discussion of the possibility of group selection in human
evolution appeared in 1974 (pp. 376-377). I said the following: “For two reasons
human social groups represent an almost ideal model for potent selection at the group
level. First, the human species is (and possibly always has been) composed of
competing and essentially hostile groups that frequently have not only behaved
toward one another in the manner of different species, but also have been able quickly
to develop enormous differences in reproductive and competitive ability because of
cultural innovation and its cumulative effects. Second, human groups are uniquely
able to plan and act as units, to look ahead and purposely carry out actions designed
to sustain the group and improve its competitive position. These features may
actually represent an exhaustive list of the precise attributes of a species that would
maximize its likelihood of significant group selection, or evolution by differential
extinction of groups. Thus group selection involves the paradox that competing
populations must be sufficiently isolated to become different in ways that may lead to
their differential extinction yet close enough together that they can replace one
another. This condition is obviously fulfilled with sympatric competing species,
which are intrinsically isolated. So, to some extent, are hostile neighboring
populations of humans.”
Intrinsic isolation means that different species can diverge, and the differences
between them that may lead to one replacing the other cannot be dissipated by
interbreeding. Any time one species replaces another is an instance of group
selection. Hamilton (1971) initially noted that the concept of group selection seems
operative in human evolution, and there may be wide fluctuations in their relative
effectiveness. Whenever two groups of humans that meet are so different that
interbreeding is absent or minimal, something resembling group selection may take
place. Every pogrom or deliberate effort to extinguish another human population can
become an instance of group selection, even if it can be carried out only because of
cultural differences such as those involving weaponry.
When I said in 1974 that humans represent an almost ideal model for group
selection I intended to give the reasons for the possibility so as to increase the
likelihood that appropriate discussions and tests might be more likely, including use
of the necessary and sufficient reasons for group selection in humans to judge its
likely potency in other species. But what of cultural selection? Is it a complete
parallel? Should we even think of comparing cultural change to genetic change –
especially when it is obvious that the agents of genetic reproduction, and therefore
change, use what Dawkins thought of as parallels to genes – the cultural units he
labeled as memes – to improve their genetic competition with other humans, both
within and between groups?
Richerson et al – and multiple other authors – apparently subscribe to the
characterization of cultural units (memes) as replicating themselves in a way
paralleling the replication of genes, but independently of the genes, therefore
(potentially?) acting as parasites on the humans that multiply and spread them. Thus,
the opposite of the perspective described earlier by Richerson et al as “dead wrong”
would seem to be: “Cultural novelties replicate themselves, both directly and
indirectly. They are not replicated as a consequence of the behavior of vehicles of
replication.” This perspective is probably consistent with Richerson ad Boyd’s dual
inheritance model of human evolution, in which culture is seen as a separate system
of inheritance that parallels the inheritance of genetic materials. This perspective
would also account for Richerson et al continuing as follows: “However, cultural
variation is more plausibly susceptible to group selection than is genetic variation.
For example, if people use a somewhat conformist bias in acquiring important social
behaviors, variation between groups needed for group selection to operate is
protected from the variance-reducing force of migration between groups (Boyd and
Richerson 2002; Henrich and Boyd 2001; Boyd and Richerson 1985).” As indicated
by the number of mass murders cited earlier, humans have in fact been unusually
good at treating members of other groups as if they belonged to other species. As
suggested in the earlier quote from Alexander (1974), rapid cultural changes can help
some groups to become more powerful than their neighbors (e.g., inventing or
acquiring better weaponry) and also cause groups to become more hostile toward one
another (e.g., as a result of instituting different sacred rules or beliefs).
Writing alone and with others I have repeatedly referred to social learning as
the principal proximate mechanism of culture – partly because the kin recognition
that enables the extensive differential nepotism unique to humans is apparently a
matter of social learning (Alexander 1990b, 1991). So, in response to the accusation
that some of us have claimed that culture is a proximate mechanism I would suggest
that, unless there is some factor other than proximate mechanisms and ultimate
functions, it has to be true. The reason, as I see it, can be summarized as follows:
Culture can be divided into the capacity for culture and the expressions
(items, units, and patterns) of culture.
The capacity for culture includes the machinery for the acquisition of
culture and the machinery for individual and group use,
communication, and sharing of its items or units.
The items of culture, or its units, are all the learned, communicated,
shared, or otherwise used items and patterns resulting from the
capacity for culture.
The capacity for culture could not evolve unless the items and patterns it
yielded on average served the reproductive success of individuals and groups using
them – served it better than it was being served in the same genetic lines prior to the
generation of a capacity for culture. Despite voluminous writing to the contrary, this
statement seems to me to apply firmly to what Dawkins labeled as memes. Barring
novel environments and mistakes, memes that do not contribute to the reproduction of
their bearers are, like deleterious mutated genes, temporary, because they are not
independent replicators. Those who discontinue use of reproductively deleterious
memes will gain at the expense of others who do not.
Proximate mechanisms exist in long and complex cause-effect chains
involving genes and environment, and all the functions of the organism: development
(ontogeny), learning, physiology, morphology, and behavior. Evolved proximate
mechanisms are adaptations, but they are by definition not ultimate functions.
Ultimate function is a term that implies the actual securing of reproductive
success by the genetic replicators – or the reproductive success that is secured by
them. The end result of the functioning of all the mechanisms in a chain that
collectively leads to reproductive success thus may be termed the evolved function of
the entire underlying chain. The evolved function of an act or a trait is not a
mechanism per se but the outcome or result of a chain of acts or mechanisms.
Therefore, it seems to me that both the capacity for culture and its expressions
are necessarily proximate mechanisms.
There is a bit of confusion here because culture, as I said in 1974 (see above),
must also be viewed as a part of the environment into which individual humans are
born and must live their lives. To the extent that culture assists individual humans
across their lifetimes it apparently must be seen as a proximate mechanism of
reproductive success. From an individual’s point of view, one might also think of
some aspects of culture as hostile forces of nature, to be added to Darwin’s list of the
hostile forces that result in differential reproduction. Forces of nature are also
proximate mechanisms in the sense that they are responsible for directions of
evolutionary change and the nature of the traits of living creatures. As hostile forces,
however, they are not proximate mechanisms in the sense of developmental and
physiological mechanisms evolved to contribute to the reproductive success of their
bearers. It may be more difficult to change what appears to be a hostile force in the
makeup of culture, because the cultural practice in question may be to someone else’s
benefit. This is what I meant in the following 1979 statement:
One person prominent in writing and speaking about memes puts his
apparently widely accepted view this way: “Don’t even think about what memes are
good for!” He follows with, “After all, what is the common cold good for?” The first
statement exhorts us to accept that, in the process of becoming replicators in their
own right, memes have (sometimes?) become entirely separated from connections to
the (rest of the) human phenotype – and genotype – in a way that makes them either
irrelevant to human reproductive success or else antagonistic to it, as is implied when
anyone suggests that memes can become parasites on the human phenotype. This
argument says that, even if memes started out as communicative units, and part of
human sociality, with respect to their own replication they have somehow escaped
this connection and become independent of the human phenotype and its underlying
genotype. The second statement re-emphasizes that memes have acquired a
relationship to humans which even allows behavior similar to that of a parasite like
the common cold virus, which does not serve us, rather infects us and debilitates us
and presumably reduces rather than increases our reproductive success. The speaker
was implying that memes, although historically a product of human genes via the
evolution of (1) social learning, (2) complex communication that began to utilize
memes, and eventually (3) a virtual flood of continuously cumulative social learning
(culture), now use human genes for their own replication rather than the other way
around.
Suppose we were to answer the second statement of the person quoted above
by saying, “The common cold is good for this: It contributes to the replication of the
virus molecule from which its effects spring. In effect, the common cold is the
phenotype of the virus molecule. It is the virus’s way of creating its own environment
of reproduction, utilizing the human phenotype (just as we use other animals and
plants as food with which to create our phenotypes). It is the vehicle of the
reproduction of the virus, just as the human phenotype is the vehicle of the
reproduction of human genes.” Our speaker might reply: “Correct! In each case a
replicator has generated a complicated means, or phenotype, for continuing its
replication. The replicator has thereby become an independent entity, responsible for
its own reproduction and persistence. In organisms, genes, or the molecules
comprising them, are the replicators. In viruses, viral molecules are the replicators. In
culture, memes are the replicators. Culture has become the phenotype – the
environment of the memes, and the mechanism of their replication. The cold virus
and memes have in common that they are using the human phenotype to its
disadvantage to replicate themselves. Memes have reversed their original relationship
with human genes and now use the products of the genes to replicate themselves,
sometimes at the expense of the genes.”
I will begin countering this view somewhat indirectly with the observation
that even within my own adult lifetime many analysts of humans believed that
behavior cannot evolve. Somewhat later it was still believed that, even if some
behavior can evolve, learning, at least, cannot, and still later that, whatever is true of
behavior or learning, cultural behavior – or cumulatively learned learning – has
essentially no connection to gene action. Each of these activities of humans at one
time or another seemed somehow released from the then even less well understood
hold of the genes on the phenotype. Still earlier in the history of biology there was
probably widespread belief that any kind of “plasticity” at all in the phenotype was
somehow uncoupled from the genes, hence could not in any way be changed by
evolution. This happened partly because trait variations known to correlate with
genetic variations were regarded as subject to evolution, while trait variations that did
Conclusion
I apologize for this review being spotty and incomplete, discussing only a few
things in a few chapters in a specific way. I also apologize for not being able to cite
all the most recent literature bearing on some of the questions I have discussed. And I
apologize for this review having taken so long to complete after I accepted David
Barash’s invitation to write it. I am grateful to Mark Flinn, David Lahti, and Andrew
Richards for providing criticism and encouragement.
I have limited my comments to what seemed to me to be the most important
topics, and the ones I thought I might know enough about for my discussion to be
useful. Among these topics, the most generally important one is that people who
investigate the inner workings of human social behavior in evolutionary terms keep
striving to comprehend the immensity and complexity of their problem, and the
applications of it. In the March 2005 AARP Bulletin, Richard Lederer, discussing
what he called “gobbledy-gook,” wrote as follows: “In 2003, the Brits’ Plain English
campaign awarded Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld their Foot in Mouth
‘prize’” The prize was awarded for Rumsfeld’s analysis of the questions surrounding
Iraq’s possibility of having a cache of weapons of mass destruction. Paraphrasing,
Rumsfeld said that there are things we know we know, things we know we don’t
know, things we don’t know we know, and things we don’t know we don’t know.
Leaving aside the context of Rumsfeld’s statement, and my own strong sympathy for
the Brits’ general position, this bit of Rumsfeld “gobbledy-gook” (which is actually
part of a fine old saying that I learned from my father two-thirds of a century ago) is
something that all students of human social behavior ought to consider seriously. In
my opinion, any investigator who is not aware of all four of these categories of
knowledge about human social behavior is unlikely to “get it straight.” Conscious
knowledge is but a fragment of our useful knowledge. A good many things have been
kept out of our consciousness by evolutionary selection, both by removing all
indicators of their existence and by removing our interest in them and therefore our
attention to them, even when clear indicators remain in “plain view” (and as a result
are sometimes made conscious in modern society). To be successful as students of the
evolution of human sociality requires that we be entirely aware of this problem and
exert considerable effort to deal with it appropriately. I think we humans are much
more complex – or convoluted – than even most students of evolutionary biology are
aware. I said at the outset that there is no more difficult problem than analyzing
human social behavior. Nor is any task more potentially useful.
I thank Mark Flinn, David Lahti, and David Barash for their assistance.
References