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32 of 32 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Why do good people do bad things?, March 23, 2002
This review is from: Dark Nature: Natural History of Evil, A (Paperback)
Why do men murder each other in acts of random violence? Why do stepfathers abuse or even kill their stepchildren? One may come up with theological or moral answers, but for Lyall Watson in Dark Nature, part of the answer in found in biology. It is for the same reason that a newly dominant male baboon kills all of the youngest infants and all those born in the next five months after he takes over. It is for the same reason that the bull elephant seal attacks and kills other males. In studying our biological heritage, we discover our basic evil genetic makeup and our power to overcome it. In the first part of the book, he studies the animal kingdom to
discover the parallels with human behavior. Human generosity and
selfishness, for example, also have their natural counterparts.
Watson describes a group of young penguins he observed on the
edge of an ice floe. At first the leaders rushed to the water,
but then seemed to have second thoughts. The water was dark, too
dark to see through; could a leopard seal be waiting for a tender
meal? They backed away. The next group rushed to the edge, and
they too backed off. This process continued until those in the
back got impatient and started shoving. At last one penguin fell
in. The others all waited-yep, there was a leopard seal! All
stood quietly as the pup was consumed. After a while, the same
process continued until a second penguin made the second course
for the seal. Again, a third time. The fourth time, however, the
seal had apparently eaten enough, for the new swimmer was not
molested. After a while, the entire group jumped in and swam
happily. Selfish behavior-just like people. But animals can also be unselfish. Vampire bats have a rich diet,
but the blood digests quickly so the bat must feed at least once
every three days. But how can one be sure he will always succeed?
When those who are successful return to the nest, they
regurgitate part of their meal to share with the less fortunate.
The practice has survival value, but it is also a form of
generosity. Thus he says, "Being good and being bad are simply
part of being human." In the second part of the book Watson studies more primitive
human societies, ranging from the headhunting Asmati to the
totally nonviolent Samai. Each culture attempts to deal with the
issues previously examined in the animal kingdom, and both have
reached "good" solutions. He doesn't advocate we become headhunters, but he does feel their solution has worked for that
society. But this does not mean that we are simply slaves to our genes. On
the contrary: Watson feels that we can overcome our baser nature.
He discusses the horrors of the Holocaust and finds the causes in
our humanity; but the solutions are also in our humanity and in
our ability for free action. This is a fascinating book, both for its argument and for its
glimpses of animal and human behavior. It is not light reading,
but if you watch nature programs or wonder why people act the way
they do, I think you will find it enjoyable.
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38 of 48 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
The, May 3, 2003
By A Customer
This review is from: Dark Nature: Natural History of Evil, A (Paperback)
Biologist and naturalist Lyall Watson's *Dark Nature: A Natural History of Evil* begins promisingly. Watson provides empirically sound support for the proposition that so-called "good" and "evil" are not simple antitheses, but instead are inextricably linked to each other within nature. "Good" and "evil", to the extent that they exist at all, are best defined as interdependent by-products of physical, not metaphysical, forces. Further, Watson states that a world without "evil" (defined as that which "is inimical to the 'goals' of survival of a certain species of individuals") would be-to use the eco-shibboleth of the moment-completely unsustainable. Watson falters, however, when he strays from his area of expertise into the murkier regions of higher primate behavior. In particular, his forays into moral philosophy terminate in what can only be described as a colossal failure of nerve. Instead of a sustained attempt to apply the insights of sociobiology to the peculiarities of advanced species, Watson offers his readers the words of the Christian missionary in The African Queen: "Nature [...] is what we are [...] in this world to rise above". It seems that for Watson-imbedded firmly, despite himself, in the na?vet? of the Christian world-view-human morality alone can defy the iron dictates of the natural world. Watson recoils especially from what he calls the "strong" force of "evil". He defines this "strong force" as "morally depraved" behavior, such as rape or murder (what we would term rape, of course, is common even among lower species, an inconvenient fact that Watson ignores). So shaken is he by such acts that he falls into easily avoidable errors of fact. For instance, he refers to Hungarian aristocrat Erzebet Bathory as an English countess. He further states, categorically and without support, that "we have the power to *defy* the genes" (emphasis added). Impelled by his blind and mounting horror of the "strong" force of "evil", the author rapidly reaches the stage where he no longer pretends to be objective, or even rational, about his subject. For instance, Watson conveniently reduces young children who have murdered their peers to mere sub-humans who are "missing something" from their moral fabric. Watson reaches this scientific conclusion via a rigorous experimental protocol that consists of looking into the children's eyes. According to Watson, these simple-minded categories, procedures, and conclusions "just feel right". A better definition of "rube epistemology" would be difficult to craft. Watson's efforts to call Western philosophy to his aid yield equally risible results. Whereas Robert Wright's book on evolutionary psychology, *The Moral Animal*, absurdly evokes Mill's long-dead philosophy of Utilitarianism as a bulwark against the inner beast, Watson keeps Fenris at bay by retreating into the tepid shallows of Aristotle's "golden mean": "Aristotelian ethics is the ethics of 'just enough'. [...] If 'good' can be defined as that which encourages the integrity of the whole, then 'evil' becomes anything which [sic] disrupts or disturbs such completeness. [It is] [a]nything unruly or over the top. Anything, in short, that is bad for the ecology. [...] It [natural law] looks less like 'survival of the fittest' and far more like 'the fitting of as many as possible to survive'". Unlike Watson, Hegel, who defined evil as "the form in which the motive force of historical development presents itself", clearly understood his subject. The obvious fact that every advance in art, philosophy, medicine, and technology has "disturbed or disrupted" the "ecology" of the times in various ways, great and small, seems to elude our author. He also appears to find the concepts of perspectivism and value-judgments to be completely incomprehensible. Instead, like all egalitarian ideologues, he ignores inconvenient facts, presents evidence selectively, and then cheerfully offers us a recipe for evolutionary mediocrity, one that would thoroughly justify Nietzsche's trenchant critique of Darwin. Oddly enough, Nietzsche's name fails to appear in Watson's bibliography or index, a fact that leads one ultimately to wonder about the survival value of selective perception.
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5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Understanding Evil 101 - required course for what counts, January 29, 1997
By A Customer
Nicely crafted popular science book. Those of us who don't wonder about the nature of evil need not read this book. Everyone else fasten your brain belt before starting. The bibliography is worth the price of the book. Sources of experimental data and analysis that I had encountered over decades, and that continue to condition my deepest beliefs, but which I had lost track of show up here. I have been in the habit of calling much unpleasant human behavior "monkey nature". Lyall Watson reminds me of why I find the appellation both apt and admittedly unfair to monkeys. Besides, anyone who lives on "an ocean-going trawler" is probably worth listening to
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