James S Chisholm
Cambridge University Press, £17.95, pp 310
ISBN 0 521 59708 0
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Rating: ★★
There have been many attempts to use evolutionary theory to justify controversial moral or social positions. In the 19th century the British social philosopher Herbert Spencer proposed a social Darwinism that would marry evolutionary ideas and Protestant ethics. In the 1970s, the discipline of sociobiology gained popular appeal for its synthesis of the natural and social sciences. And in Sweden's recent policies of eugenic sterilisation the state itself was attempting an enforced “survival of the fittest.”
James Chisholm wants to save evolutionary theory from accusations of misuse and abuse. We have nothing to fear from it, he argues, for it offers a humane explanation for our behaviour and a potential route to a world of greater health, freedom, and justice. To support his radical claims, he takes the reader through a stepwise series of theoretical ideas, building layer on layer to create a new species of medicine called “evolutionary public health.” Will this species survive? It is too early to say, but the beast is certainly an interesting one.
While the racy title and erotic cover art might suggest a light read, nothing could be further from the truth. Chisholm almost bludgeons the reader with the weight of his academia. The language is burdened by jargon, and there are few breaks in the text-rich pages.
He starts with a rejection of postmodernism, arguing that “all forms of life have knowledge” that cannot be socially constructed. Our minds, repositories of this knowledge, have evolved to represent the risks in our environment so that we can determine the best strategy for reproductive success. Slaves to our selfish genes, all of us must frantically ensure that we leave offspring behind. But how do we know which is the optimal strategy? Chisholm's elegant theory is that children gauge what kind of future lies ahead from their early emotional attachment experiences. Their emotions will guide them to the most valuable reproductive strategy. “As eyes sense light and ears sense sound,” he says, “emotions sense value.”
The best strategy is one that makes the best use of available resources. When parents have few emotional and material resources to invest, their children can “sense” that their future is a risky one. And here lies his evolutionary explanation of unhealthy behaviour. If we face a risky future, our best reproductive strategy is to have unprotected sex at a young age with multiple partners. Men in a high risk situation will fight off other male competitors with violent acts. These “syndromes” of behaviour are ultimately damaging.
Chisholm fortunately steers clear of reactionary cant. Rather than demonising single mothers for failing to invest in their children, he uses his theory to suggest an “evolutionary medicine.” We have a duty to address inequalities across socioeconomic groups, he argues, because these cause children to adopt unhealthy reproductive strategies. We should instead adopt social arrangements that equalise children's capability to choose and attain valuable and healthy futures. In his stirring conclusion, he writes: “The capability to achieve a good human life includes the freedom to do so.”
This is a weighty read, and the pay off doesn't quite match the effort involved. I was left with many unanswered questions. Why do we need to invoke evolution in attempting to create justice? What about the social construction of inequality? If the goal of life is reproductive success, where does that leave childless couples? Later this year, two evolutionary biologists will publish a book claiming that rape confers an evolutionary advantage on the perpetrator. Chisholm has a long way to go to reassure us that evolutionary explanations are more humane than social ones.