A promising survival strategy, in short, is this: Break up into small groups, encourage ethnocentrism and xenophobia, and succumb to the occasional sexual temptations provided by the sons and daughters of enemy clans. Devise your own culture: The more your species is capable of learned behavior, the greater the differences that can be established between one group and another. Behavioral differences eventually lead to genetic differences, and vice versa. Incomplete isolation—just the right mix of aloofness and sexual abandon with other groups—generates diversity. And diversity is the raw material on which selection operates.
There seems to be, then, a reason—at the heart of population genetics and evolution—for small semi-isolated groups as the substructure of larger populations, for xenophobia, ethnocentrism, territoriality, incest avoidance, occasional outbreeding, and migration away from the most successful communities. These mechanisms work especially for those species that find themselves in a swiftly changing environment, biologically or physically. Archaebacteria, ants, and horseshoe crabs have not much been in this category; birds and mammals have. So next time you hear a raving demagogue counseling hatred for other, slightly different groups of humans, for a moment at least see if you can understand his problem: He is heeding an ancient call that—however dangerous, obsolete, and maladaptive it may be today—once benefitted our species.
A solution has been found to the problem of how to arrange for gene frequencies to respond quickly to a volatile, changing environment. And the solution seems eerily familiar. After a journey into an abstract world of population genetics and gene frequencies, we turn a corner and suddenly find ourselves gazing at something that looks very much like … ourselves.
* Except when what is expressed in the privacy of the voting booth is too shameful to be admitted to the pollster.
† The pejorative flavor that attaches to the word “deviant”—which only means different from the average—suggests the nearly irresistible social pressures, in almost all human societies, to fit in with the crowd. The word “egregious,” meaning exceptionally bad, is Latin for separated out from the herd. Again, the equation of different with bad—sensible for well-adapted populations in the short-term but dangerous in changing times and in the long-term.
Chapter 14
GANGLAND
Brought face to face with these blurred copies
of himself, the least thoughtful of men is
conscious of a certain shock, due perhaps, not
so much to disgust at the aspect of what looks
like an insulting caricature, as to the awakening
of a sudden and profound mistrust of time-
honoured theories and strongly-rooted
prejudices regarding his own position in nature,
and his relations to the under-world of life;
while that which remains a dim suspicion for
the unthinking, becomes a vast argument,
fraught with the deepest consequences, for all
who are acquainted with the recent progress of
the … sciences.
T. H. HUXLEY
Evidence as to Man’s Place in Nature1
The Big Guy, he gets respect He walks by, folks bow. Stick out their hands. Most times, hell touch you. Hands stretch out, Big Guy touch ’em, one after the other. You feel real good. He looks you in the eye and it’s like, you gotta do what he wants. I can’t stand it when he looks at me like that It makes me feel so good, I gotta look down at my feet
He’s crazy about me. The Big Guy, he’d as soon fuck me as look at me. Truth is, he’ll fuck anything that moves. With him you don’t try “I’m not in the mood” or “I got a headache”—all that gets you is hurt and he still gets what he wants. Forget that. You have to give in anyway. So whatever he’s in the mood for, you’re in the mood for. Lucky I really like it with the Big Guy. But who wouldn’t? Anyway, he don’t care what I do on my own time, long as I don’t get knocked up.
A lot of the guys, they don’t get much respect. They’re not much fun to make it with. You got to do it anyway, though. They give you the look and you don’t come running, they beat the shit out of you. Those guys, all they’re interested in is one thing. One time, when the Big Guy is away, I won’t do it and this guy, he picks up a big rock. Huge. He means business, so I have to let him. They’re all like that You don’t come across, they get real pissed off. Those little guys, they think they’re so big. They think they’re hot stuff. They think they can have anyone they like.
When the Big Guy’s around, sometimes he lets ’em and sometimes he don’t. When he’s away on a trip, or when his back is turned, we give the boys a little if we like ’em. You never know, one of ’em might be high rank some day. One of ’em might be the new Big Guy some day. But when the Big Guy’s watching, if he don’t want us to, we don’t even look at the boys. We know what to do. We know our place.
Guys take a lot of stroking. Sometimes what they need is petting or kissing. Sometimes they need more. After, they’re not so grumpy. You come across right away, the guys are nice to you, know what I mean? Before I had my kid, I make it with ten, fifteen guys, one after the other. They can’t wait to get on me.
The Big Guy, sometimes when he gets outta hand, all I gotta do is stroke him a little, and it’s like he can’t remember what was getting him so hot and bothered. The Big Guy, he’s real nice to me. One time my kid’s watching us in the act and tries to stop us. He climb on, hitting Big Guy with his little fists. Big Guy, he don’t touch him. He think it’s funny. He don’t hurt my kid. He don’t hurt me.
Buddy and Squint, they get lots of respect too. Not as much as Big Guy, but almost. Squint’s the Big Guy’s brother. He’s got a thing for me, too. Squint takes the patrols out at night, far away, near the end of our turf. There’s a gang that hangs out on the other side. They’re the Strangers. Sometimes they raid us. We don’t like Strangers. Our guys see Strangers, they go crazy. Strangers come here, they get what they deserve. We catch ’em, we tear ’em apart. Our patrols, they’re out there protecting us and our kids. From Strangers.
One time everybody was tense. You could smell trouble. Me and the kid, we was scared. We was hugging each other real tight. Some Strangers come tearing through. Looking for sex and trouble. Rampage. Well, the Big Guy, he give ’em trouble. He come down on ’em hard. Before Buddy and Squint could help or anything, Big Guy stomp ’em real good. Those Strangers, they run away fast. They stay a little longer, they’d be dead. Best part was, even before the dust settled, they come ’round—Big Guy and Buddy and Squint—to me and the kid and all the others. They make sure we know everything’s all right. Big Guy put his hand on my shoulder. He touch my cheek. He gimme a kiss. Big Guy, he’s all right.
——
I like a little ass, same as the next guy. But what I really like is combat. You’re out on patrol, you gotta be real quiet. You gotta be ready for action. Strangers could be anywhere. Anything could happen at night. Night’s the most exciting.
We catch some Strangers, they’ve had it. One time Squint come on a Stranger mother holding her kid. He take the little brat by a leg and smash its head on the rocks. That’ll teach Strangers to come around. Days later I seen her again, real sad, carrying that dead baby like it’s still alive. But that’s the way it goes. Strangers mess with our turf, they get what’s coming.
Big Guy, he don’t go out on patrols no more. In the old days, before Big Guy take over, it’d be him and me and Squint on patrol. That was great. Those Strangers, they come over here to steal our turf and fuck our females. Some of ours, the younger ones, they don’t mind so much—they got a thing about quickies with Strangers. But us guys, we mind. Strangers, they ain’t like us. We don’t watch our step, they pick us off one by one.
They’re fast and they’re quiet. When we can’t catch ’em, sometimes we throw rocks. I’m real good with rocks. I get high up somewhere and they don’t see me, I cripple ’em with rocks, I break their ass. I hurt ’em and they c
an’t hurt back. Them Strangers, they better not mess with me.
You gotta be careful, though. Old Boss, the boss before Big Guy, he was off chasing Strangers once. Soon as he was gone, some of the guys take his girlfriend—you know, the one he went off on a honeymoon with. They take her into the bushes. They try to cop a fuck on the side. She don’t mind. Boss come back, he don’t get so much respect like before. You really like a female, it gets you into trouble. Especially if you want to be a boss. It turn out OK for him, though. After Big Guy take over, Old Boss, he just spend all his days fucking. His hair’s gray now, but he’s happy.
Sometimes one of those Stranger females, she sashays over here, all young and sassy, looking for a little action—a real piece of ass, you know? Myself, I’d rather fuck ’em than kill ’em. But some of the guys, they get carried away. We don’t like Strangers here. Still, sometimes she’ll suck up to one of the guys and before you know it he sorta ease her into the gang.
In our gang everybody knows their place. Females especially. They do what they’re told. Or else. Sometimes they make believe like they don’t want it, but I know what they really want. Sometimes you gotta slap ’em around a little. Mostly you give ’em a look and right away, they’re shaking their ass, they got that smile, their eyes are staring, they’re moaning. Most of the time they beg for it.
Us guys, we don’t want the Big Guy to get nervous. We show respect. So we let him climb all over us. It’s not real; it’s just for show. We suck up to the Big Guy. I’m high up, but on this I’m like the rest. He’s my boss. If some tight-assed young guy don’t wanna show respect, he better change his mind or he don’t last long.
Big Guy, he’s really something. I seen him fight off two, three, lots of Strangers, all at once, all by himself. One time he save a little kid that fall into the water. Would’ve drowned for sure. Big Guy, he’s got balls.
After Big Guy it’s pretty much what I say goes. I’m high up. Besides Big Guy, hardly anybody gets on me. ’Course, I need help now and then from the other guys. I spend a lot of time stroking them. But that’s OK. You should see some of the guys my kid brother has to let get on him. Sometimes if Big Guy’s pissed off, you can calm him down just by touching his cock. Sometimes you gotta do more. It just means you’re cool.
When there’s enough to eat and there’s no Strangers around, everybody chills out. Guys get calm. In the early afternoon they all get sleepy, you know, and take naps. Not much trouble then. Too much calm, though, you get itchy for patrol.
I come up through the ranks. I don’t get to be number two by accident. When I start out, I’m not grown yet, nobody give me respect. I want respect so bad back then. When I get big enough, some of the other kids, then some of their mothers and sisters, they start giving me respect. Then all the females. Then I gotta start working myself up with the guys. It was hard. Sometimes I gotta beg food from them. Meat especially. Sometimes, when they give me a little piece, I’d grab it all and run. They’d get real pissed off. It wasn’t easy then. Now it’s different. Now everybody give me respect. Even Squint, sometimes. Even the Big Guy, sometimes.
We get on good. I help him, he help me. He scratch my back, I scratch his, know what I mean? I’m real close to him, closer than anybody except maybe Squint. But one time he got mad at me for not showing enough respect. He think he’s gonna teach me some manners. We have a big fight. Lots of other guys join in. More fights break out. More guys jump on. Maybe they’re helping their brother, or maybe they’re nervous about Big Guy and me fighting. Guys who’re fighting ask for help from guys who’re just watching. Pretty soon everybody’s fighting.
But Big Guy, he don’t look at nobody else but me. And he whip my ass. Then he start calming everybody down. I had to respect him. That was like a real Boss. Still, he beat me in front of everybody. One of these days I’m gonna make my move. He’s been good for me. But I want him off me. Someday I’m gonna be all over him.
Right now, though, Big Guy and Squint and me, we gotta stick together. Some of the young guys are getting restless. They want to stick it to us. I know what those guys are like. When they see us they suck up to us. They show respect. But inside, they think “Up yours.” They think, “My time’s gonna come.” Well, my time’s gonna come first.
——
One thing I wouldn’t let even the Big Guy mess with. That’s my kid. That’s where I draw the line. No one messes with him. When we’re out together, scrounging for something to eat, and I see my kid looking up at me, I know I’d sooner die than let anybody hurt him. He feels like that about me too. When the guys—even top guys—threaten me, my kid come over and try to protect me. They respect him for it. ’Course, just like every other kid around here, all he’s really got is his mother. If I don’t protect him, who will? When he was little he’d eat stuff that make him sick. I gotta stop him. I gotta show him what’s good to eat. He really need me then. He still does, more than he know. Sometimes the guys babysit and they seem to like him. But you can’t trust guys.
One of the young guys wanna fuck his mother. She don’t want to. One of these days he gonna hurt her bad. He can fuck his sister, but he should leave his mother alone. When the mood comes over the guys, though, they can’t help themselves. They go crazy. They act like animals.
Sometimes guys go so crazy, they beat a kid to death for nothing, just for being there. A guy, he gets to be a pain in the ass, he gets chewed out by some big shot. So he go look for somebody to kick around, some nobody—some female, some kid. When guys get pissed off it’s no good for anybody—least of all females and kids. You work real hard to get them calm.
One time my sister’s kid, he musta got sick or something. All of a sudden he can’t move his legs no more. He can’t walk. He just drag himself along by his hands. He look real weird. First, folks look away. None of the guys come ’round to babysit no more. Later, they hassle him. Then they attack him. Then they kill him off, snap his neck. I was sad for my sister.
My kid, all he lives for is to be in the gang, get respect, go out on patrol. He’s too little now, but his time’ll come. He’d do anything for a pat from the Big Guy. Me, too. I love it when the Big Guy touches my hand.
And he stop the young guys from fighting. He’s got a look that says “Up your ass.” Most of the time he just flash that look and the guys, they calm down. Grown-ups, they know how far they can go. They make lots of threats. Except for Strangers, though, nobody gets hurt much. But real young guys, they don’t know the difference. After they get to a certain age they can hurt each other bad. I don’t want my kid hurt by some asshole who don’t know his own strength. Big Guy puts a stop to that.
And he takes care of me. The Big Guy—or Buddy, but I know the Big Guy put him up to it—sometimes goes ’round handing out food. Meat especially. Meat’s not so easy to come by. They always give me and the kid some. They give it mostly to the good-looking females, like me, to make sure we’ll come across. But I’d do it for free, anytime he wants. A lot of folks beg for more when they hand the food out. Not me. I don’t have to.
When the guys leave me alone, I spend all my time with my sister, my girlfriends, my grown-up daughter. We watch out for each other. We give each other respect. I’d be nowhere without them.
One time when I was young—before anybody fucked me except for play—I got fed up. I wasn’t getting no respect. I was off by myself taking a walk and I see this cute guy. He don’t see me. He’s a Stranger—you can tell right away—but he’s real cute. Then all of a sudden he’s gone. After, I keep thinking about him. Maybe all Strangers are as cute as him. Maybe Strangers gimme respect. So I go to check ’em out.
It’s a long walk and I don’t wanna run into our patrols. But I get there OK. Pretty soon I find a guy. A Stranger guy. I don’t think he’s the same one I seen the first time, but he’s real cute, too. I give him a look, and I can see he’s eager. There’s two females there, though, his kind, and they’re not happy to see me like he is. They come at me, yelling and scrat
ching and biting, and I run back home. It’s a long way. When I get here, it don’t seem anybody notice I’m gone—except for Mom, of course. She gimme a big hug. I miss Mom.
Chapter 15
MORTIFYING REFLECTIONS
When he bethought him of the first beginning
of all things, he was filled with a yet more
overflowing charity, and would call the dumb
animals, howsoever small, by the names of
brother and sister, forasmuch as he recognized
in them the same origin as in himself.
ST. BONAVENTURA
The Life of St. Francis1
We are astonished to see how slight and how
few are the differences, and how manifold and
how marked are the resemblances.
CHARLES BONNET
Contemplation de la Nature
(1781), on comparing apes and humans.2
Early in the fifth century B.C., Hanno of Carthage set sail into the western Mediterranean with a fleet of sixty-seven ships, each with fifty oars, carrying altogether thirty thousand men and women. Or at least this is what he claimed in the Periplus—a chronicle that was posted in one of the many temples consecrated to the god Baal after his return home. Sailing through the Straits of Gibraltar, he turned south, establishing cities along the West African coast as he went, including present-day Agadir, Morocco. Eventually, he came to a land filled with crocodiles and hippopotami and many groups of people, some herders, some “wild men,” some friendly, some not. The interpreters he had brought from Morocco could not understand the languages spoken here. He sailed by what is now Senegal, Gambia, and Sierra Leone. He passed a great mountain from which a fire reached “to heaven,” and from which, night and day, “streams of fire flowed into the sea.” This is, almost certainly, the Mount Cameroon volcano just east of the delta of the River Niger. He may have gone almost as far as the Congo before returning.