Biologist Jared Diamond, author of ‘Collapse’ and ‘Germs, Guns and Steel’ said that, “The evidence that tribal peoples often damage their environments and make war,” is a very dangerous idea. Why?
Because too many people today believe that a reason not to mistreat tribal people is that they are too nice or wise or peaceful to do those evil things, which only we evil citizens of state governments do. The idea is dangerous because, if you believe that that’s the reason not to mistreat tribal peoples, then proof of the idea’s truth would suggest that it’s OK to mistreat them. In fact, the evidence seems to me overwhelming that the dangerous idea is true. But we should treat other people well because of ethical reasons, not because of naïve anthropological theories that will almost surely prove false.
Stretching the idea of “ethical reasons” even farther, should we not treat people well because we are, in some sense, all sisters and brothers living under the roof of this improbable house known as the human condition? Can one choose to practice this, strive for this? Or are we far less free than we suppose?
Most people will call their own sisters and brothers just that. One might do the same for good friends. What about acquaintances? What about community strangers? Foreign strangers? What about the political foes one most dislikes? Are they sisters and brothers? In some humbling, way, I would say yes.
Speaking of bias, in an interesting article in the Washington Post, I read Harvard scientist Mahzarin Banaji has at eye level on a bookshelf in her office—to keep in check bias discovered in her “Implicit Association Test” which measures unconscious prejudice—
postcards of famous women and African Americans: George Washington Carver, Emma Goldman, Miles Davis, Marie Curie, Frederick Douglass and Langston Hughes. During one interview, she wore a brooch on her jacket depicting Africa. What might seem like political correctness to some is an evidence-based intervention to combat her own biases, Banaji says.
I like that idea. I saw that bias in myself while making Uganda Rising. Despite World War I, World War II, colonialism, Vietnam, Iraq today, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and on and on, I would still—much to my shame and curiosity—sometimes ask myself: “Why do these (black? African? desperate?) people keep killing each other?”—as if it was at its root a racial problem.
If you dislike liberals or conservatives or whomever else, put pictures in your office or on the fridge of the ones who have done great things. If you can’t find any that have, could the problem be a highly unstable and fear-based worldview that might need a little tweaking?
Maybe I can help. Abe Lincoln, for example, was a Republican that Democrats could root for. I can’t think of a Democrat a Republican would like, but I’m trying. How about that Democrat Harry Truman? Neither group would like Emma Goldman, but she’s still a hero.
And the reverse works, too, as a reminder. Thomas Jefferson was a slaveholder, yet praised and adored by many. Henry Ford was the epitome of the American Dream, and he thought the world of Hitler and supposedly got inspiration for his assembly line factories from slaughterhouses. Che Guevera was both a freedom fighter and a cold-blooded killer.
If you’re mad at America, remember that Noam Chomsky is American. If you’re mad at Middle Eastern people, remember that…well, remember George Bush is American.
Maybe even put some photos of yourself doing beautiful things in your office. Doing beautiful things for others could turn into a habit.
It’s the law of association. We become like that with which we associate—or as the yogis say, meditate upon. So keep your discernment, but love more, remember more, watch out for the evening news, and never forget how wonderful flawed humans can be, and how flawed wonderful humans can be.
It’s not easy being a person. We don’t even know what we are—a bunch of synapses, soulful beings, beings with a soul or a mish-mash. And we’re fleeting, too. That’s a lot of pressure. Good luck to everyone. Let’s talk later. Love, Pete.
