Thomas Huxley was perhaps the first student of evolution to propose that humans were thinly covered by the behavioral web we call civilization, underneath which beat the heart of animal barbarism. As a supporter of Darwin, Huxley thought that we could learn about humans by watching what other primates do in the wild, with the view that the socially polite world of “civilized” humans would probably wash way when faced with existential threat.
But it doesn’t take a truly mortal risk to bring out the animal in us. Driving down the neighborhood avenue on my way to the on-ramp for my freeway commute last week, I witnessed no less than three occasions where territorial slights between drivers resulted in immediate aggression, albeit sheltered behind the glass, steel and plastic of each person’s vehicular armor. The mannerly world of civilization, as we like to think of it, fell off when these animals perceived threats to their individual ability to get to work, which is the modern equivalent of access to food and water. The fact that the soft, frail human bodies were encased in a couple of tons of protective covering added to the likelihood that the drivers felt safe to express their animal natures.
It seems like it’s easier for us humans to bark and scratch at each other if we don’t know one another. The anonymity increases our sense of being threatened, but also increases the safety of acting out against others. If I attack my neighbor, now I have to live next to them. Or I have to face the authorities should my outburst reach a criminal level of behavior. After all, they know where I live.
The more people we know, therefore, the lower our odds of either lashing out, or being attacked, during the course of our daily lives, during which we cannot avoid infringing upon someone else’s interests. That’s why, when I first moved into a new house and neighborhood when my kids were very young, I organized a block party. The annual gathering went on for many years, and I’m convinced it was a key reason why our cul-de-sac was so harmonious. We drank beers and acted foolishly and our kids played and we shared stories from our pasts that we probably wouldn’t have under normal circumstances. No neighborhood feuds after that. Just annual campfire songs in the middle of the street each summer. But most of the people we encounter in the world daily are people we don’t know, don’t have a history or relationship with.
As our global population continues to rise, even as the rate of growth might be slowing, we will find ourselves challenged to retain the social tolerance that keeps us all from using the massive arsenals stored in our closets. Surveys have variously estimated the number of civilian weapons. The U.S. population is estimated to have almost 400 million individual firearms in its possession, representing nearly half of the global count of privately owned guns. That’s more than one gun for every adult and child in the country. The fact that there are relatively few incidents of mayhem as a percentage of the population is a testament to the resilience of that thin, persistent veneer of civilization that Huxley talked about.
In 2018, there were about 40,000 gun-related deaths, and about 75,000 gun-related non-fatal injuries. Of the deaths, about 60% of those were suicides. So if we take that group out, that means about 27,000 hostile deaths by firearm occurred. As a percentage of the population, that is about .00008%.
One would think that, with all those guns, and all that ammunition, and all these people, and all these stressful situations, that the thin veneer of civilization would fall away much more often, resulting in blood feuds and murders far beyond the rate we’re experiencing. The big events that capture all the headlines for many days and weeks are the rarest of the rare, given the demographics. The 2017 Las Vegas mass shooting that killed 58 people and wounded over 400 others is among the aggregate. While it was horrendous, that act is still part of a tiny incidence rate. So are the horrible school shootings we’ve unfortunately witnessed via television replay, in Parkland, Sandy Hook, Columbine and others.
Perhaps civilization’s skin, stretched so tightly over the animal instincts we all evolved from, is a tougher membrane than might be thought. I find some solace in the idea that evolution brought us to this place of social cohesion we call civilization because it has been a powerful reason behind our species’ successful expansion over the planet. And we don’t know the rate of mutual support that this same population exhibits. Nobody tracks the incidence of random acts of kindness, unobserved graciousness and spontaneous generosity that happens every day around the world. Perhaps if we started reporting when humans reach out to give someone else a hand, in small and large ways, we would all sleep a little more soundly, knowing that the number of times lives are saved by strangers far out-numbers the times when a life is taken.
That veneer is made of Kevlar, as it turns out.