The evil that men do

The evil that men do

Detail from Goya's “The Disasters of War”

Originally published 12 December 1994

If I remem­ber right­ly, I was about 12 years old when I first came across Fran­cis­co Goy­a’s col­lec­tion of etch­ings called The Dis­as­ters of War.

I knew noth­ing of Goya, nor of the sub­ject of the etch­ings, the Span­ish insur­rec­tion of 1808 and the result­ing war with Napoleon­ic France. I looked upon these ter­ri­ble pic­tures with a child’s inno­cent eyes.

Any­one who has seen the etch­ings will not have for­got­ten them. Bod­ies with­out heads or limbs impaled on trees. Sol­diers split­ting naked bod­ies length­wise with swords. Unmit­i­gat­ed scenes of rap­ine and slaughter.

It prob­a­bly did not cross my young mind to won­der how humans could do such things to each oth­er. I had been taught in school about orig­i­nal sin and the pow­er of Satan in the world. The hor­rors depict­ed by Goya were sure­ly the work of the Dark Angel.

Near­ly half a cen­tu­ry has passed and I no longer believe in Satan. Nev­er­the­less, the inter­ven­ing years have pro­vid­ed ample evi­dence of the human poten­tial for vio­lence. In Cam­bo­dia, North­ern Ire­land, Rwan­da, Bosnia, and dozens of oth­er places around the globe, we go on butcher­ing those who are not of our own clan.

Now comes poly­math writer Howard Bloom to tell us why we kill. In a book to be pub­lished next month by Atlantic Month­ly Press, Bloom argues that evil is a by-prod­uct of nature’s strate­gies for cre­ation, woven into our most basic bio­log­i­cal fabric.

The book is The Lucifer Prin­ci­ple: A Sci­en­tif­ic Expe­di­tion into the Forces of His­to­ry. It is a provoca­tive book that ranges across broad ter­ri­to­ries of knowl­edge — his­to­ry, pol­i­tics, biol­o­gy, anthro­pol­o­gy, psy­chol­o­gy, ethics.

The book’s the­sis, that rep­re­hen­si­ble human behav­iors are genet­i­cal­ly deter­mined, is not new; a crowd of ama­teur and pro­fes­sion­al socio­bi­ol­o­gists have tak­en us down this path before. What gives Bloom’s ver­sion of the sto­ry a cer­tain explo­sive­ness is its in-your-face chal­lenge to many of our cher­ished social and reli­gious beliefs.

Bor­row­ing from the work of biol­o­gist Richard Dawkins, Bloom begins his search for the sources of human evil in primeval seas, bil­lions of years ago.

Cer­tain mol­e­cules appeared by chance — ances­tors to DNA — that were able to repli­cate them­selves from inert chem­i­cals avail­able in the envi­ron­ment. Even­tu­al­ly the pop­u­la­tion of repli­ca­tors out­stripped avail­able chem­i­cal resources. Some repli­ca­tors began dis­man­tling oth­ers to obtain the neces­si­ties of life.

Nature became red in tooth and claw. Life preyed on life. “The cre­ator of human sav­agery is Nature,” Bloom writes, “who works her way through brain seg­ments bequeathed to both men and women by our ani­mal ancestors.”

As sci­ence, The Lucifer Prin­ci­ple is flawed. Although it is not unrea­son­able to sup­pose that humans are genet­i­cal­ly pro­grammed for aggres­sive (or altru­is­tic) behav­iors, there is no com­pelling sci­en­tif­ic evi­dence that this is so.

Bloom con­fus­es anal­o­gy with causal con­nec­tion, mis­takes anec­dote for evi­dence, and choos­es his anec­dotes selec­tive­ly. In spite of its sub­ti­tle, the book is not so much sci­ence as a string of rhetor­i­cal fire­crack­ers that chal­lenge our many forms of self-righteousness.

The liveli­est parts of Bloom’s book are his attacks on two wide­ly- held myths regard­ing our rela­tion­ship with nature.

The first myth is often attrib­uted to the philoso­pher Rousseau: Humans in a prim­i­tive state of nature are good, and civ­i­liza­tion turns us into beasts. Bloom hand­i­ly pops the myth with ref­er­ences to despi­ca­ble behav­iors of so-called prim­i­tive peo­ples and non-human primates.

He also demol­ish­es the oppo­site myth: Humans in their nat­ur­al state behave like preda­to­ry ani­mals, and civ­i­liza­tions make us good. This is where Bloom is at his feisty best, show­ing how soci­etal “super-organ­isms,” and the ideas that bind them togeth­er, can ampli­fy our savagery.

Accord­ing to Bloom, sav­ageries of the sort depict­ed by Goya came with us into the world from our moth­ers’ womb. Our brains are hard­wired for evil, he says, and the myths of Satan and orig­i­nal sin embody more truth than many of us care to admit.

Then are we doomed to unend­ing aggression?

Bloom writes: “We must build a pic­ture of the human soul that works; not a roman­tic vision that Nature will take us into her arms and save us from our­selves, but a recog­ni­tion that the ene­my is with­in us and that Nature has placed it there. We need to stare direct­ly into Nature’s bloody face and real­ize that she has sad­dled us with evil for a rea­son. And we must under­stand that rea­son to out­wit her.”

The Lucifer Prin­ci­ple offers a gloomy assess­ment of human nature. How­ev­er, in the absence of com­pelling evi­dence to the con­trary, I choose to believe we are not as innate­ly aggres­sive nor as bio­log­i­cal­ly deter­mined as Bloom suggests.

Cer­tain­ly, we have the bio­log­i­cal poten­tial for both aggres­sive and altru­is­tic behav­iors. As Alexan­der Solzhen­it­syn wrote in The Gulag Arch­i­pel­ago: “The line divid­ing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being.”

Our hope lies in the won­drous­ly adapt­able human brain, which appar­ent­ly con­fers upon us free­dom of will. Evil may indeed loom large in human his­to­ry, but the over­whelm­ing major­i­ty of us choose to live our lives on the non-Lucifer­an side of the line.

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