#title Civilized Man's Eight Deadly Sins #author Lorenz Konrad #date 1974 #isbn 9780151180615, 015118061X #source <[[https://archive.org/details/civilizedmanseig0000lore][archive.org/details/civilizedmanseig0000lore]]> #publisher Harcourt Brace Jovanovich #lang en #pubdate 2023-12-29T20:30:23 #topics half-finished error correcting, Human ecology, Civilization, Modernity #notes "A Helen and Kurt Wolff book." Translation of *Die acht Todsünden der zivilisierten Menschheit* by Marjorie Kerr Wilson. #cover l-k-lorenz-konrad-civilized-man-s-eight-deadly-sin-1.jpg ** [Front Matter] *** [Synopsis] Is our present-day civilization, and humanity as a species, threatened with annihilation? When and how have we gone off the rails? With passionate concern the creator of the new Science of ethology and recent recipient of the Nobel Prize in Medicine here explores, in a work aimed at the general reader, the various dangers contributing to dehumanization today: - Overpopulation with its resulting surfeit of social contacts and release of aggressive instincts - The destruction of man's natural environment - Man's technological race against himself - The warning of deep emotions - Genetic decay - The break with tradition, and a new kind of hostile contempt between generations - The increasing vulnerability of humanity to indoctrination - Nuclear armament. In his exploration of the causes of mankinds predicaments, Professor Lorenz takes up cudgels against behaviorism, explaining to what degree phylogenetic evolution influences and preforms human behavior patterns. Lively, popular, challenging, and controversial, this is an apt sermon for our times. The German edition sold well over 200,000 copies.
Translated by Marjorie Kerr Wilson

*** Also by Konrad Lorenz King Solomon*s Ring Man Meets Dog On Aggression Studies in Animal and Human Behavior
*** [Title Page] Civilized
Man’s
Eight
Deadly
Sins ------- Konrad Lorenz Translated by Marjorie Kerr Wilson A Helen and Kurt Wolff Book Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Inc. New York
*** [Copyright] Copyright © 1973 by R. Piper & Co. Verlag English translation Copyright © 1974 by Konrad Lorenz All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any Information storage and retrieval System, without permission in writing from the publisher. Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Lorenz, Konrad.
Civilized man’s eight deadly sins.
“A Helen and Kurt Wolff book.”
Translation of Die acht Todsünden der zivilisierten Menschheit.
Bibliography: p.
1. Human ecology—Addresses, essays, lectures.
2. Civilization, Modern—Addresses, essays. lectures.
I. Title.
GF41.L6713 301.31 73-20189
ISBN 0-15-118061-X First edition
B C D E
** A Foreword with a Silver Lining During the final stages of publishing a paper or a book, I always feel strongly repelled by my own writing. Not that it seems scientifically wrong, but it appears increasingly hackneyed and banal and less worth publishing. At last my revulsion reaches such an intensity that, when it comes to reading galley proofs, I always feel reminded of an awful sight once seen in a prisoner-of-war camp: a man slowly and deliberately eating his own vomit. My aversion wears off with time, and after a few years or so I do not feel so bad about my products; at least they do not seem any more to be worse than other people’s writings. So I like to think that this later view is more objective than the first one had been. These labor pains are less tormenting in the publishing of a translation. In the guise of a good translation one’s own book appears to be—as it actually is—another person’s work, and as such it affords a new viewpoint from which to judge it more objectively. It was, therefore, all the more disquieting when, in reading this translation, I was haunted by the feeling that something was subtly wrong with this book, though I could not at first put my finger on it. I have since found out: it is the attitude that I myself took while writing this book only four years ago. The tone of the book makes it all too obvious that the author feels like a prophet crying in the wilderness, and that kind of prophet is not an altogether likable person. For one thing, he is offended by the fact that no human being is listening to his crying, and therefore he always sounds slightly reproachful. Furthermore, he is talking down to his audience, which is forgivable, since he believes it to consist only of wilderness animals. This prophet-in-the-wilderness attitude was wrong in the first place; it was obsolete when I first wrote this book. It was more out-of-date when it was made accessible to the public, and it is even more so at the present moment. After holding what I thought to be more or less a monologue in the wilderness, I found that I had been talking to an intelligent and appreciative audience—a double-edged experience, highly satisfactory and highly embarrassing at the same time. I apologize in advance if ever I seem to be “talking down” to the reader. In still another way the tone of the book is slightly wrong: it is too pessimistic. Only a few years ago, those who raised their voices to warn humanity about the dangers threatening it from its own shortsightedness really were prophets crying in the wilderness. I myself must plead guilty of having regarded William Vogt, the ecologist, as unduly pessimistic. Rachel Carson was thought so by many people, and no effective protests were raised when the producers of poison tried most unfairly to discredit her and to hound her into oblivion. Today everybody regards her as a martyr, and nobody doubts that her predictions were accurate. True, the dangers threatening humanity have in no way diminished, but the number of people who are aware of them is rapidly increasing. The dark clouds are threatening, coming closer and closer, but they have a silver lining which, though narrow enough, is increasing in luminescence. True, a dark cloud of collective stupidity is still obscuring the minds of many influential people. It is still possible that men who ought to know better regard the report on the limits of growth made by M.I.T. at the request of the Club of Rome as sheer irresponsible nonsense; incredibly, they even find journals to print what really is sheer irresponsible nonsense. But, in general, awareness of humanity’s predicament is spreading with exponentially increasing speed. It needs to, because the dangers are doing exactly the same. It is a neck-and-neck race between the growing of the cloud and the broadening of the silver lining. However, I am not without hope; in fact, I would not work on this book if I were. Furthermore, I am very glad to State that I have to qualify quite a few things’ that are said in Europe about America. It is still true that the United States is the worst sinner in regard to air and water pollution, as well as in respect to the exponential growth of production and consumption. But it is equally true that America is the land in which the greatest number of responsible men and women are really concerned about the predicaments of humanity; it is in America that the warnings of Carson, Vogt, Philip Wylie, the Meadows team, and many others were first heard. If the great errors of our Western civilization are usually first committed in America, it is also the country in which these errors are first recognized and corrected. A good example of this is the indoctrination of America with the teachings of behaviorism. In this book, on page 49, I complain about the devastating moral and intellectual influence that behavioristic doctrine is exerting on American public opinion, as well as on psychological and sociological Science. Now I can see signs that this is not so any more, while in Europe the behaviorists influence is still expanding. I feel that I should give some justification for my writing the kind of sermon contained in this book. To do so is not generally considered the task of the scientist. However, in medical Science it is legitimate to give warning whenever there is reason to suspect a threatening illness, even if its cause is not yet fully analyzed. This is indubitably the case with many of the epidemic mental illnesses afflicting present-day humanity. I want to conclude this foreword by reiterating my avowal of optimism. It would be unpardonably arrogant to believe that the facts one can plainly understand oneself cannot be made intelligible to all and sundry. Everything that follows is far easier to understand than integral or differential calculus (which I never quite mastered, though I understand the principle). Every danger loses some of its terror once its causes are understood. Many neuroses can actually be cured by raising their deep, subconscious roots above the level of consciousness. In respect to both these facts I dare hope that my little book might contribute to a slight lessening of the dangers that are threatening us.
** One. Structural Properties and Functional Disorders of Living Systems Ethology may be defined as that branch of Science which arose when the comparative methods, obligatory since Darwin in all other biological disciplines, were applied also to research into animal and human behavior. The surprising lateness of this application was due to the sequence of events in the history of behavior research, which I will deal with in the section on indoctrination. Ethology treats animal and human behavior as the function of a system owing its existence, as well as its special form, to a development process that has taken place in the history of the species, in the development of the individual and, in man, in cultural history. The genuine causal question, why a certain system is constructed in a certain manner, and not otherwise, can find its legitimate answer only in the natural explanation of this evolutionary process. Among the causes of all organic evolution, next to the processes of mutation and new combination of genes, the biggest part is played by natural selection. It brings about adaptation, a genuine cognitive process by which the organism absorbs information about the environment, significant for its survival; in other words, it acquires knowledge of the environment. The presence of structures and functions formed by adaptation is characteristic of living organisms; in the inorganic world there is nothing of this kind. This fact compels the natural scientist to ask a question, unknown to the physicist and the chemist, the question “What for?” When the biologist asks this, he is searching not for the teleological significance but, more modestly, for the survival value of a characteristic. When we ask, “What does the cat have curved, pointed claws for?” and answer, “For catching mice,” we are simply asking which survival function has bred this form of claw in the cat. Having spent a scientists lifetime asking this question about the strangest structures and behavior patterns over and over again, and finding, over and over again, a convincing answer, one tends to the view that complex and by and large improbable forms of body structure and behavior come into being exclusively through selection and adaptation. That view, however, would be completely shaken if the question “What for?” were applied to certain regularly observable behavior patterns of civilized human beings. What is the use to humanity of its measureless multiplication, its mad competitive haste, its production of ever deadlier weapons, the Progressive deterioration of town dwellers, and so on. A closer view shows that virtually all these malfunctions are disorders of certain special behavior mechanisms, originally possessing survival value. In other words, the disorders are pathological. The analysis of the organic System underlying the social behavior of man is the most difficult and ambitious task that the scientist can set himself, for this system is by far the most complex on earth. One might imagine that an undertaking of such intrinsic difficulty would be rendered altogether impossible by the fact that human behavior is overlaid and altered unpredictably by pathological phenomena. Fortunately, this is not the case. Far from being an insurmountable obstacle to the analysis of an organic system, a pathological disorder is often the key to understanding it. We know of many cases in the history of physiology where a scientist became aware of an important organic system only after a pathological disturbance had caused its disease. When E. T. Kocher treated exophthalmic goiter by excision of the thyroid, he initially produced tetany because, with the thyroid, he had removed the parathyroid glands, the regulators of calcium metabolism. Having corrected this mistake, he elicited, by the still too radical removal of the thyroid, a syndrome that he called cachexia thyreopriva, which showed certain resemblances to myxoedema, a form of idiocy occurring frequently in Alpine valleys, where the water is deficient in iodine. From these and similar results, it was found that the endocrine glands form a system in which, quite literally, everything is linked to everything else in causal interaction. Every secretion poured into the body by the endocrine glands has a definite action on the whole organism, influencing metabolism, growth, behavior, and so on. These secretions are therefore called hormones (from Greek hormaein: to urge on). The actions of two hormones may be exactly antagonistic, in a way analogous to the actions of two muscles which, by opposing play, bring a joint into the desired position and keep it there. As long as hormonal equilibrium is maintained, it is not apparent that the endocrine system is built up of part functions, but if the harmony of actions and reactions is in the least upset, the whole condition of the organism diverges from the desired theoretical norm, i.e., it becomes diseased. Too much thyroid causes exophthalmic goiter, too little, myxoedema. The endocrine system and the history of its investigation provide us with valuable aids to the understanding of the whole system of human impulses. Obviously, this system is much more complexly structured, and must be so since it encompasses the endocrine glands as a subsystem. Man evidently possesses a great many independent sources of impulses, and a large number of these may be attributed to behavior programs of phylogenetic origin, to “instincts.” It is misleading to call man the “instinct-reduction being,” as I did in the past. It is true that in the course of phylogenetic higher evolution of learning ability and insight, long, coherent chains of innate behavior patterns can “dissolve”; the obligatory links between their parts get lost, whereupon these fragments become independently available to the acting subject. P. Leyhausen has demonstrated this convincingly in his experiments with cats. At the same time, as Leyhausen showed, every one of these available fragments becomes an autonomous drive, since it develops an appetitive behavior striving for its discharge. Unquestionably, man lacks long chains of obligatorily linked instinctive movements, but so far as we may dare to extrapolate from findings in highly developed mammals, we may assume that man has not fewer but more genuinely instinctive impulses than any other animal. In any case, when attempting system analysis, we must take into account this possibility. This is particularly important in the examination of behavior that is obviously pathologically disturbed. My late friend, the psychiatrist Ronald Hargreaves, in one of his last letters to me, wrote that when trying to understand a mental disorder, he had made it his method to ask two questions: first, what is the normal survival function of the disturbed system and, second, what is the nature of the disturbance, in particular whether it has been caused by an over or an underfunction of a part system. The part systems of a complex organic whole exist in a State of such intimate interaction that it is hard to draw a line between their several functions, none of which in its normal form is conceivable without all the others. Not even the structures of part systems are always clearly definable. This is what Paul Weiss means when, in his “The Living System: Determinism Stratified,” he says of subordinate systems that a system is everything which is uniform enough to deserve a name. There are a great many human impulses uniform enough to have been given a name in colloquial language. Words like hate, love, friendship, anger, loyalty, affection, mistrust, trust, and so on, all signify States corresponding with the propensity to quite specific behavior patterns, in a way no different from the terms applied in scientific behavior research, such as aggressivity, ranking-order drive, territoriality, and termini connected with “mood,” for example, brooding, courting, or flying mood. We trust the “flair” of natural expression for deep psychological associations as much as the intuition of scientific animal observers, and we may assume—at first only as a working hypothesis—that every one of these terms for human States of mind and for certain actions corresponds with a real impulse system. For the present it is immaterial in what proportions the particular impulse derives its force from phylogenetic or from cultural sources. We may assume that every one of these impulses is a link in a well-ordered, harmoniously working system and, as such, indispensable. The question whether hate, love, trust, mistrust, and so on, are “good” or “bad,” if asked without understanding of the systemic function of this whole, is just as stupid as the question whether the thyroid gland is good or bad. The idea that emotions can be classified as good and bad, that love, loyalty, and trust are good in themselves, while hate, disloyalty, and mistrust are bad, stems from the fact that in our society there is generally a lack of the former and a surfeit of the latter. Too much love spoils countless promising children, too much loyalty, raised to an absolute, has had appalling consequences, and Erik Erikson has recently demonstrated convincingly the indispensability of mistrust. One structural property common to all more highly integrated systems is that of regulation by so-called feedback cycles or homeostasis. In order to understand their action, we must imagine a working structure, consisting of a number of systems supporting each other functionally in such a way that system A sustains the action of B. B that of C, and so on, until finally Z supports the function of A. Such a cycle of “positive feedback” is, at best, in a State of unstable equilibrium; the smallest increase of a single action will lead to snowballing of all the system functions, and, conversely, the slightest decrease to the ebbing of all activity. As technology has long known, such an unstable system can be converted to a stable one by introducing into the cycle a single link whose action on the subsequent one in the chain of effects decreases in proportion to the increase in strength exerted by the link preceding it. Thus a regulating cycle is set up, a homeostasis or “negative feedback.” It is one of the few processes that was discovered by technologists before it was detected by biologists in the realm of the organic. In nature, there are countless regulating cycles. They are so indispensable for the preservation of life that we can scarcely imagine its origin without the simultaneous “invention” of the regulating cycle. Cycles of positive feedback are hardly ever found in nature, or, at most, in a rapidly waxing and just as rapidly waning process such as an avalanche or a prairie fire. These phenomena resemble various pathological disorders of human society. The negative feedback of the regulating cycle dispenses with the necessity of a specific fixed measure— the action of every single one of the subsystems participating in it. A small over or underfunction is easily equilibrated, and a dangerous upset of the whole system occurs only if a part function increases or decreases to such a degree that the homeostasis can no longer be equilibrated, or, if the regulating mechanism itself is out of order. In the following chapters we will meet with examples of both these conditions.
** Two. Overpopulation In the single organism, we almost never come across a positive feedback cycle. Only life as a whole can indulge with apparent impunity in this immoderation. Organic life has built itself, like a rare kind of dam, into the stream of dissipating world energy; it “devours” negative entropy, gathers energy voraciously, and grows with it. Moreover, the process of growth enables it to acquire more and more energy, and all the more quickly, the more it has already gathered in. If this process has not yet led to over proliferation and to catastrophe, it is because the merciless powers of the inorganic, the laws of probability, keep the multiplication of living beings within bounds, and also because regulating cycles have been formed between the different species of living organisms. In the next chapter, which deals with the destruction of our earthly environment, we shall explain briefly how these cycles work. We must discuss the measureless multiplication of human beings first, since it is the cause of most of the phenomena that are the subjects of our later consideration. All those gifts that have sprung from man’s deep insight into the nature of his surroundings—the progress of his technology, his chemical and medical Sciences, everything that seems most likely to relieve human suffering—work in a horrible and paradoxical way toward the destruction of mankind. And humanity threatens to do what living systems almost never do, namely to suffocate in itself. Worst of all, in this apocalypse, the highest and noblest properties and faculties of man, the ones rightly valued as specifically human, are apparently the first to perish. We who live in densely populated civilized countries, especially in large cities, no longer realize how much we are in want of warmhearted human affection. You have to go to a really sparsely populated country, where neighbors are separated by several miles of bad roads, and enter a house uninvited, to realize how hospitable and friendly people are when their capacity for social contact is not continually overstrained. This was brought home to me by an unforgettable experience. We had an American couple staying with us in Austria whose house is situated in an isolated spot in the woods of Wisconsin. Just as we were sitting down to dinner, the doorbell rang and I cried out angrily, “Who on earth is that now?” I could not have shocked my visitors more if I had let fly a volley of obscene oaths. To them it was inconceivable that anyone could react to the ringing of the bell with anything but pleasure. Crowded together in our huge modern cities, in the phantasmagoria of human faces, superimposed on each other and blurred, we no longer see the face of our neighbor. Our neighborly love becomes so diluted by a surfeit of neighbors that, in the end, not a trace of it is left. Anyone who still wants to feel affection for his fellow humans must concentrate it on a small number of friends, for we are not so constituted that we can love all mankind, however right and ethical the exhortation to do so may be. So we must select, that is, we must keep certain people, who would be fully worthy of our friendship, at a distance. “Not to get emotionally involved” is one of the chief worries of large-city people. This State of affairs, not quite avoidable for any of us, already bears the stamp of inhumanity; it is redolent of the old American plantation owners who treated their “house niggers” as human beings but their plantation slaves at best as valuable domestic animals. When this intentional screening-off from human contacts goes further, it leads not only to emotional entropy, of which I will speak later, but to the horrible manifestations of apathy reported daily in the press. The greater the overcrowding, the more urgent becomes the need for the individual “not to get involved”; thus, today, in the largest cities, robbery, murder, and rape take place in broad daylight, and in crowded streets, without the intervention of any passer-by. The overcrowding of many people into a small space leads, not only indirectly through exhaustion of interhuman relationships, but also directly, to aggressive behavior. Animal experiments have shown that intraspecific aggression can be escalated by overcrowding. Nobody, who has not been a prisoner of war or personally experienced a similar compulsory aggregation of human beings can imagine what pitch the smallest irritation can reach under such circumstances. When, in daily and hourly contact with fellow humans who are not our friends, we continually try to be polite and friendly, our State of mind becomes unbearable. The general unfriendliness, evident in all large cities, is clearly proportional to the density of human masses in certain places. For example, in large railway stations and at the bus terminal in New York City, it reaches a frightening intensity. Indirectly, overcrowding contributes toward all the symptoms of decay that we will be discussing in the following chapters. The idea that by suitable “conditioning” a new kind of human being, immune to the effects of dense overcrowding, could be produced, is, to my mind, a dangerous madness.
** Three. Devastation of the Environment It is a widespread but erroneous belief that “nature” is inexhaustible. Every species of animal, plant, or fungus —for all three are part of an intricate mechanism—is adapted to its environment, and to this environment belong not only the inorganic parts of a certain habitat but also all the other living inhabitants. Thus all the living beings of a habitat are adapted to each other, and this applies also to those confronting each other in apparent hostility, for example, the predator and its prey, the eater and the eaten. On closer consideration, it is evident that these beings, seen as species and not as individuals, not only do not harm each other but even form a mutual interest society. Obviously, the eater has a strong interest in the ongoing existence of the species he lives by, whether it be animal or plant, and the more specialized he is in a certain kind of nourishment, the greater his interest in its survival. In such cases, the predator is unable ever to exterminate the prey species, for the last pair of predators would starve long before it even encountered the last pair of prey animals. If the population density of the prey species falls below a certain level, the predator ceases to exist, just as, fortunately, most whaling concerns have done. When the dingo, originally a domestic dog, carne to Australia and ran wild there, it did not eliminate any of the prey species that it lived on; instead, it exterminated both the large marsupial predators, the marsupial wolf, Thylacynus, and the Tasmanian devil, Sarcophilus. These marsupials, armed with terrible teeth, were infinitely superior to the dingo as fighters but, because of their primitive brain, they required a much denser population of prey animals than the more intelligent wild dog. They were not bitten to death by the dingo but killed in competition—they starved. It is rare for the multiplication of an animal species to be regulated directly by the amount of available nourishment. This would be uneconomical for the predator as well as for the prey. A fisherman living off certain fishing grounds will be well advised to exploit them only so far that the surviving fish can reproduce sufficiently to make up for the fish caught. Where this optimum lies can be worked out only by a very complicated maximum-minimum calculation: should we fish too little, the sea will remain overpopulated and not many young will mature; should we overfish, too few will be left to breed the number of progeny that the area can properly nourish. As V. C. Wynne-Edwards has shown in his book, Animal Dispersion in Relation to Social Behaviour, many animal species practice an analogous kind of economy. As well as the marking of territories to preclude too close aggregation, there are various other behavior patterns calculated to prevent overexploitation of the available environment. Quite frequently, the eaten species gains advantages from the eater. Not only is the reproduction rate of nutritive plants and animals adapted to the consumer, so that a vital equilibrium would be upset if this factor were obliterated. (The great breakdowns of population seen in quickly breeding rodents immediately after their attaining highest population densities endanger the survival of the species much more than does “culling” by predators, which helps to preserve a balanced medium.) The symbiosis often goes much further. There are many grasses “constructed” to be kept short and even trampled down by large ungulates. In our lawns, we imitate this process by mowing and rolling. If these factors disappear, these grass species are soon supplanted by others that have been unable to stand up to such treatment but are hardier in other ways. In short, two life forms can have the same relationship of interdependence that exists between man and his domestic animals and plants. The laws governing such interactions are often similar to those of human economy, a fact expressed in the biological term for the Science of these interactions: ecology. However, one economical concept, about which we shall have more to say later, does not occur in the ecology of animals and plants: overexploitation of natural resources. The interactions of the many animal, plant, and fungus species coexisting in a habitat and forming a common life society, or biocoenosis, are manifold and complex. The adaptation of different species of living beings, produced during periods whose size order corresponds with geological rather than with historical epochs, has led to a State of equilibrium as expedient as it is unstable. Many regulating processes support this equilibrium against the inevitable disturbances caused by weather and similar influences. Slowly occurring changes wrought by evolution or gradual alterations of climate cannot endanger the balance of a habitat, but sudden influences, even if apparently slight, may have catastrophic effects. The introduction of a seemingly harmless animal species can devastate wide stretches of land, as rabbits have done in Australia. This interference in the balance of a biotope was caused by man. Similar ravages may be brought about without his interference, but this is rarer. The ecology of man changes much more rapidly than that of other creatures, and the speed of its change is dictated by his technological progress, which keeps accelerating in a geometrical progression. Thus man cannot avoid making fundamental changes, and, all too often, he causes the total breakdown of the biocoenosis in which and on which he lives. Exceptions to this rule are seen in a few “wild" tribes, for example, certain South American jungle Indians who live as gatherers and hunters; also in the inhabitants of several oceanic islands, who carry on some agriculture but otherwise live on coconuts and sea animals. Such human cultures influence their biotopes in a way no different from that of populations of animal species. This is the one theoretically possible way in which man can live in equilibrium with his biotope; the other way is by creating, through crop growing and animal breeding, a new biocoenosis, tailored to suit his needs and, in principle, just as viable as one that has arisen without his help. A biocoenosis of this kind may be seen in many old farms, where, for generations, the same families have lived on the same land; they are one with it and, having sound ecological knowledge acquired by experience, they give back to the soil what they have taken from it. The farmer knows something that the whole of civilized mankind seems to have forgotten, namely, that the resources of life on our planet are not inexhaustible. In the United States, it was only after wide expanses of plowland had been eroded through ruthless exploitation of the top soil, after large districts had been devastated by timbering, and countless useful animal species had become extinct that these facts gradually began to be realized again, particularly because many large agricultural, fishing, and whaling industries began to feel the effects financially. Nevertheless, the truth has only begun to penetrate to the consciousness of the general public. Present-day haste leaves people no time to think before they act. They are proud of being “doers,” little suspecting that they are the undoers of nature and themselves. Everywhere there is undoing: in the use of Chemicals in agriculture and horticulture and, just as shortsightedly, in pharmacy. Immunity biologists are gravely concerned about the general misuse of medicaments. Several branches of the chemical industry unscrupulously exploit the psychology of “instant gratification” by the sale of products whose delayed action cannot yet be assessed. There is an appalling lack of foresight about the future of agriculture and medicine. Those who have warned against the indiscriminate use of insecticides, herbicides, and chemical preservatives have been discredited and silenced in an infamous way. When civilized man destroys in blind vandalism the natural habitat surrounding and sustaining him, he threatens himself with ecological ruin. Once he begins to feel this economically, he will probably realize his mistakes, but by then it may be too late. Least of all does he notice how much this barbarian process damages his own mind. The general, fast-spreading alienation from nature can largely be blamed on the increasing aesthetic and ethical vulgarity that characterizes civilized mankind. How can one expect a sense of reverential awe for anything in the young when all they see around them is man-made and the cheapest and ugliest of its kind. For the city dweller, even the view of the sky is obscured by skyscrapers and chemical clouding of the atmosphere. No wonder the progress of civilization goes hand in hand with the deplorable disfigurement of town and country. If we compare the old center of any European town with its modern periphery, or compare this periphery, this cultural horror, eating its way into the surrounding countryside, with the still unspoiled villages, and then compare a histological picture of any normal body tissue with that of a malignant tumor, we find astonishing analogies. Considered objectively, and translated from the aesthetic to the computable, this difference consists essentially in a loss of Information. The cell of the malignant tumor differs from the normal body cell in that it has lost all the genetical Information it requires in order to be able to play its part as a useful member of the body’s cell community. Therefore the malignant cell behaves like a unicellular animal or a young embryonic cell. It lacks special structures and multiplies ruthlessly, so that the tumor tissue infiltrates the still healthy neighboring tissue and destroys it. The similarities between the two processes are obvious. In both cases, the still sound parts contain highly differentiated and mutually complementary structures that owe their symmetry to Information gathered in the course of a long evolution; whereas, in the tumor, or in modern technology, only very few extremely simple structures dominate the picture. The histological picture of the completely uniform, structurally poor tumor tissue has a frightening resemblance to an aerial view of a modern suburb with its monotonous houses designed by architects without much art, without much thought, and in the haste of competition. The processes involved in the race of mankind with itself, the subject of the next chapter, have a devastating effect on house building. Because of the commercial consideration that mass-produced building parts are cheaper, and also because of fashion, that leveler of all things, on all town outskirts in all civilized countries, mass dwellings are springing up by the thousands. Indistinguishable from each other except by numbers, and unworthy of the name “houses,” they are at best batteries for “utility people,” to use an expression analogous to the term “utility animals.” Keeping hens in batteries is rightly looked upon as cruelty to animals and a disgrace to civilization, but nobody objects to a similar confinement of humans, even though man can stand this literally inhuman treatment even less than animals. The self-valuation of the normal person rightly demands that he should be allowed to express his individuality. A man is not, like an ant or a termite, constructed phylogenetically in such a way that he can bear being an anonymous and interchangeable element among millions of absolutely similar others. One has only to look at a row of gardens to see how strong is man's impulse to assert his personality. The dweller in the utility battery has only one way of keeping up his self-respect: by banishing the existence of his many fellow sufferers from his consciousness and encapsulating himself from his neighbors. In many mass-produced apartment houses, partitions have been erected between the balconies to make the neighbor invisible. One cannot, and will not. come in contact with him “across the fence.” for one is afraid of seeing one’s own frustrated face reflected in his. In this way. living in masses leads to loneliness and to apathy toward one's neighbor. Aesthetic and ethical feeling appear to be closely related, and people who are obliged to live under the conditions described above obviously suffer from an atrophy of both. It seems that both the beauty of nature and the beauty of cultural surroundings created by man are necessary to keep people mentally healthy. The complete blindness to everything beautiful, so common in these times, is a mental illness that must be taken seriously for the simple reason that it goes hand in hand with insensitivity to the ethically wrong. In the case of the people who have to decide whether a Street, a power station or a factory should be built, destroying forever the beauty of a whole stretch of land, ethical considerations play no part whatever. From the chairman of a small rural council to the minister of economics in a large State, all are unanimous that no economic—or indeed political—sacrifice must be made to nature. The few nature lovers and scientists whose eyes are open to the impending disaster are powerless: a piece of land belonging to a rural council will fetch a better price if a new road is made; and so the bubbling brook, winding its way through the village, is diverted through a conduit, and the pretty country lane becomes a dreary suburban Street.
** Four. Man’s Race Against Himself At the beginning of Chapter 1, I have explained why, in the living system, the function of regulating cycles or negative feedback is indispensable for the maintenance of a steady State; also why positive feedback cycles always threaten to trigger the snowballing of a single action. A special case of positive feedback occurs when individuals of the same species enter into a competition with each other which, through selection, influences their evolution. In contrast to selection caused by extraspecific environmental factors, intraspecific selection effects, in the species concerned, changes in the hereditary pattern that not only do not enhance its survival chances but in most cases are detrimental to them. To illustrate the consequences of intraspecific selection, my teacher Oskar Heinroth chose the example of the secondary feathers of the Argus cock pheasant, Argusianus argus L. In courtship, these are spread and presented to the hen in a way analogous to that of the peacock’s tail, which is formed by the upper tail coverts. Just as in the peacock, so in the Argus, too, the choice of the partner evidently rests with the hen, and the mating chances of the cock are in fairly direct relation to the degree of attraction exerted on the hen by the male courtship organ. In flight, however, the peacock’s tail is folded into a more or less streamlined stern and is scarcely a hindrance, whereas the elongated secondaries of the male Argus render him almost incapable of flight. That he has not become entirely so is obviously due to the fact that ground predators exert a selection pressure in the opposite direction, thereby bringing about the necessary regulating effect. Oskar Heinroth, in his drastic manner, used to say, “After the wings of the Argus cock, the working pace of modern man is the stupidest product of intraspecific selection.” At the time it was made, this assertion was surely prophetical. Today it is a classical understatement. In the Argus, as in many other animals with similar structures, environmental influences prevent the species from moving, by intraspecific selection, along monstrous evolutionary paths leading to catastrophe. No such salubrious regulating forces are at work in the cultural evolution of mankind. To his detriment, man has learned to govern all the forces of his extraspecific environment, but he knows so little about himself that he is helplessly at the mercy of the satanic workings of intraspecific selection. Homo homini lupus—“Man is the predator of man” is, like Heinroth’s saw, an understatement. Man, as the only determining selection factor in the further evolution of his own species, is, unfortunately, in no way so harmless as even the most dangerous beast of prey. As no biological factor has ever done before, the competition between man and man works in direct opposition to all the forces of nature, destroying nearly all the values these have created, with a cold calculation dictated exclusively by value-blind commercial considerations. Under the pressure of interhuman competition, all that is good and useful, for humanity as a whole as well as for the individual human being, has been completely set aside. The overwhelming majority of people today value only that which brings commercial gain and is calculated to outflank fellow humans in the relentless race of competition. Every means serving this end appears, falsely, as a value in itself. Utilitarianism, with its destructive influence, may be defined as the mistaking of the means for the end. Money is a means. Colloquial language expresses this: we say, “He has the means.” How many people today would understand if we tried to explain that money by itself does not represent any value? The same applies to time: the saying “Time is money” means, to all those for whom money is an absolute value, that every second of saved