Genes, Climate, and Consumption Culture (Connecting The Dots)

Genes, Climate, and Consumption Culture
Connecting the Dots

Book information:
To cite this document: Sheth, Jagdish N.. Genes, Climate, and
Downloaded by University College London At 16:34 26 April 2018 (PT)
Consumption Culture. Emerald Publishing Limited 2017.

Permanent link to this document:
https://doi.org/10.1108/9781787434110
Downloaded on: 26 April 2018, At: 16:34 (PT)
References: this document contains references to 0 other documents.
To copy this document: permissions@emeraldinsight.com
The fulltext of this document has been downloaded 118 times since
2017*
Access to this document was granted through an Emerald subscription

provided by emerald-srm:368933 []
For Authors
If you would like to write for this, or any other Emerald publication,
then please use our Emerald for Authors service information about
how to choose which publication to write for and submission guidelines
are available for all. Please visit www.emeraldinsight.com/authors for
more information.
About Emerald www.emeraldinsight.com
Emerald is a global publisher linking research and practice to the
benefit of society. The company manages a portfolio of more than
290 journals and over 2,350 books and book series volumes, as well
as providing an extensive range of online products and additional
customer resources and services.
Emerald is both COUNTER 4 and TRANSFER compliant. The
organization is a partner of the Committee on Publication Ethics (COPE)
and also works with Portico and the LOCKSS initiative for digital archive
preservation.
*Related content and download information correct at time of

download.
Connecting the Dots

GENES, CLIMATE, AND
CONSUMPTION CULTURE
This page intentionally left blank

GENES, CLIMATE, AND
CONSUMPTION CULTURE
Connecting the Dots
BY
JAGDISH N. SHETH
Emory University, Atlanta, GA, USA
with
JOHN YOW
United Kingdom North America Japan

India Malaysia China
Emerald Publishing Limited
Howard House, Wagon Lane, Bingley BD16 1WA, UK
First edition 2017
Copyright r 2017 Emerald Publishing Limited
Reprints and permissions service

Contact: permissions@emeraldinsight.com
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without
either the prior written permission of the publisher or a license
permitting restricted copying issued in the UK by The Copyright
Licensing Agency and in the USA by The Copyright Clearance
Center. Any opinions expressed in the chapters are those of the
authors. Whilst Emerald makes every effort to ensure the quality
and accuracy of its content, Emerald makes no representation
implied or otherwise, as to the chapters’ suitability and
application and disclaims any warranties, express or implied, to
their use.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British
Library
ISBN: 978-1-78743-412-7 (Print)

ISBN: 978-1-78743-411-0 (Online)
ISBN: 978-1-78743-464-6 (Epub)
ISOQAR certified
Management System,
awarded to Emerald
for adherence to
Environmental
standard
ISO 14001:2004.
Certificate Number 1985

ISO 14001
This book is dedicated to my writer, John Yow,

who is a brilliant storyteller and an
outstanding journalist.

CONTENTS
Acknowledgments ix
Preface xi
Introduction: Climate and the History of Man 1
PART ONE
1. We Are Where We Eat 21
2. What to Wear? 55
3. A Roof Overhead 85
PART TWO
4. Your Time or Mine? 121
5. Individualism and Collectivism 153
6. Embrace of Technology and Dominion over

Nature 187
vii
viii
Index
References
Conclusion
Contents
245
233
229
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank several individuals who helped me in

writing, editing, and formatting this manuscript.

The first and foremost is John Yow. He is a brilliant writer
and researcher. I had the privilege to collaborate with John
Yow on several books including Self Destructive Habits of
Good Companies, Chindia Rising, and my autobiography,
The Accidental Scholar. Without his support, the idea that
climate influences both culture and consumption would not
have materialized into this book.
I also want to thank Isha Edwards who edited as well as
formatted the manuscript. She was also very helpful in getting
the permissions.
My thanks go to Devna Thapliyal for her editorial help in
revising and rewriting parts of the manuscript and I want to
thank my research assistant, Jay Krishnaswamy, for provid-
ing library support.
I also want to thank my personal assistant, Nicole Smith
(who is herself an excellent writer) for shaping the chapters.
My thanks also go to Jeanne Levine, who signed me up
with Emerald.
ix

PREFACE
My interest in climate and its influence on consumption goes

back to my first year college class on economic geography.
The year was 1955. It was further reinforced when I special-

ized in European History with a specific focus on colonial
expansion during my first two years of college (1955 1957).
However, all of this came into focus when I did research
for Coca Cola International on why some nations consume a
lot of Coca Cola and others do not. Ultimately, through sta-
tistical analysis, I concluded that all types of consumption
can be explained by the North South Latitude differences in
climate ranging from the arctic to temperate to tropical.
What I learned from the Coca Cola study has been further
validated by consumption differences in cheese, shoes, gar-
ments, and homes. In other words, differences in consump-
tion of all three basic necessities of food, shelter, and clothing
can be explained by the North South climate differences.
More recently, I began to wonder whether cultural differ-
ences among nations about punctuality, territorialism, indi-
vidualism, friendship, social distance, and uncertainty
avoidance can also be explained by the latitude link. In other
words, I could explain why Northern Europeans are gener-
ally more time and space conscious and why they believe in
individualism, innovation, and pro-change.
It has been a fascinating journey for me since the early sev-
enties and what I learned in my economic geography and
modern history classes. The journey has not stopped.
xi
xii Preface
I am now intrigued whether digital technology and social

media will counterbalance influence of climate on culture and
consumption or will it be moderated by climate. In other
words, will warmer climate cultures be more engaged in
social media than the colder climates? Will they have more
family and friends on their social media apps such as
Facebook, What’s App, and Instagram as compared to colder
climate cultures? Nobody knows for sure.

INTRODUCTION: CLIMATE AND
THE HISTORY OF MAN
A few years ago, I was involved in a study for Coke

International — then headquartered in New York. We were
trying to figure out why consumption of Coke varied so
widely from country to country. The differences were strik-
ing. When we analyzed the data from 55 to 60 countries, we
found some countries were sipping Coke at a rate of only 64
bottles per capita annually, while others were guzzling 400
bottles per capita. Why?
We got a bunch of product managers together to come up
with some themes.
The first hypothesis was “bad water.” If a country had
bad water, the people drank more Coke. We loved this one.
It made good sense. Then the quiet guy in the corner spoke
up. If water was so bad for the natives, they would have died
long ago, and dead people don’t drink Coke. Of course he
was right; “bad” water is bad only for tourists. So we threw
that one out.
The second theory was “affordability.” Richer countries
were the ones drinking Coke. So we ran the numbers, to see
if per capita income correlated with consumption. We were
surprised to find a slightly negative correlation. Poorer
1
2 Genes, Climate, and Consumption Culture
countries were drinking more Coke than affluent ones. So

this theory also had to be abandoned.
Third came the idea of “substitute beverages.” We thought
maybe whether a nation’s attachment to its “native beverage”
(i.e., beer in northern Europe, wine in the Mediterranean, tea
in China) was strong or weak might influence Coke con-
sumption. But what we found was that Coke consistently
took market share away from native beverages, without a lot
of difference from country to country. So this theory went

out of the window.
It turned out that there were two actual explanations: one
was climate, the other was age. If the country was warmer in
climate and had lots of young people (low median age), then
Coke consumption was very high. In countries that were
“colder and older” Coke consumption was low. The lowest
rate of consumption was in Sweden. The highest was
Mexico, with 400 bottles per capita per year. This was even
more than in America, with the exception of the four Deep
South states Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana,
where the consumption rate topped at 600 bottles per capita.
It occurred to me that climate probably also explained why,
within the United States, consumption was higher in the
South than in the North.
You say, “Of course. This is obvious. People in hot
climates drink more of everything. They sweat. They’re
thirsty.”
You’re right. But as we puzzle out consumption patterns
around the world, I believe we’re often like those product
managers, who perhaps did not see the forest for the trees.
We’re eager to investigate cultural factors, like religion, lan-
guage, and social customs — or even genetics. The more
I thought about it, the more I came to believe that we too eas-
ily overlook the pervasive influence of climate. It occurred to
me that culture itself may be significantly shaped by climate.
Of one thing I was certain: In our increasingly global econ-

omy, with products and ideas flowing ever more easily from
one part of the world to another, the question of who con-
sumes what, and why, will become increasingly important.
And so I began this journey. I began by looking at the role
climate plays in basic consumption (food, shelter, clothing),
and soon found myself investigating how climate affects cul-
ture itself — that is, the cultural values that lie behind pat-
terns of consumption. I must say, I have found these

interrelationships quite fascinating. But before examining cli-
mate’s influence on contemporary culture, let’s take a brief
look at climate’s role in man’s history.
THE EVOLUTION OF MAN
Let’s begin with ice — or, more specifically, with the four Ice
Ages of the Glacial Epoch.1 For reasons that remain mysteri-
ous, at some point in our planet’s past (maybe 35 million
years ago), the climate began to cool. By roughly ten million
years ago it’s likely that the earth had cooled enough for gla-
ciers to form in Antarctica, and perhaps elsewhere also.
Finally, approximately two million years ago there came a
period of very severe cold — the so-called Glacial Epoch —
which probably lasted, punctuated by warmer spells, or inter-
glacials, until roughly 12,000 years ago. Snow on northern
mountainsides ceased to melt. Instead it accumulated, com-
pacted into glacial ice, and began its slow drift toward lower
elevations. At its worst, the Glacial Epoch saw sheets of ice
covering much of the northern Europe, including the areas
that would later become Dublin, north London, Amsterdam,
Berlin, Warsaw, Kiev, Moscow, and Leningrad. In North
America, ice covered most of what would become Canada
and extended as far south as St. Louis, Chicago, Cleveland,

and New York City.
Anthropologists and climatologists generally agree that
the gradual cooling of the earth during the Pliocene epoch
(roughly 14 million years ago to 2 million years ago, leading
up to the Glacial Epoch) offers a simple reason for man’s evo-
lution in Africa: it was getting too cold most everywhere else.
Primates — the class of mammals which includes man and all
of his ape-like ancestors — were originally tropical animals.

In most cases (highly evolved Homo being the conspicuous
exception) they still are. As such, their diet consists of
easy-to-digest fruits, shoots, and buds, foods available only in
a climate moist and warm enough to support such vegetation
all year round. This essential requirement of a tropical cli-
mate immediately rules out North America, Europe, and
most of Asia as potential birthplaces for man. It’s true, as
Robert Claiborne notes, that “fossil primates — including
apes — have, indeed, been found in parts of Eurasia that are
now distinctly cool, but the latest of them dates from a period
some twenty million years back when these regions were still,
at worst, subtropical; subsequently, we must infer, the apes
were driven south or exterminated by the advancing cold and
changes in vegetation.”2
Plenty of fossil evidence attests to the existence of these
tropical, tree-dwelling primates before the Pliocene. From this
era, for example, comes Aegyptopithecus (Egyptian ape),
whom Claiborne calls “the very first ape in the fossil record,
and very probably the earliest creature that can with reason-
able certainty be placed upon man’s family tree.” But then
the story takes an interesting twist. For the 12 million years
of the Pliocene, the African fossil record is a blank, and then,
suddenly, toward the beginning of the Pleistocene (roughly
three million years ago), fossils tell us that at least some of
the tree apes have taken up residence on the ground. What

happened?
The answer, of course, is climate change. During the
Pliocene, Africa, like the rest of the planet, was becoming
cooler. At the same time, the African tropics were becoming
drier, with seasonal rather than year-round rainfall.
Consequently, the rain forest, the habitat of the tree apes,
was shrinking. Our ancestors, if they wanted to survive, were
going to have to climb down out of their Edenic tree-top

sanctuary and think about going to work for a living. They
were going to have to adapt, which, of course, they did —
though we can suppose it was a long and difficult process. As
Claiborne writes, the first ground apes had no great skills, as
predators, scavengers, or vegetarians. “The only thing they
were really good at, in fact, was doing many things ineffi-
ciently. They were masters of no biological trait — but jacks
of many. In the course of some millions of years on the
African savanna, they had begun acquiring what is
unquestionably the most fundamental trait of man:
adaptability.”3
Not only the evolution, but also the migrations of early
man were a matter of climate. Our ancestors probably made
their way from South and Central to North Africa during the
First Interglacial (i.e., between the first and second Ice Ages
of the Pleistocene), when a climate warmer and wetter than
today’s would have driven summer rains into the Sahara far
north of where they reach today.
To proceed from North Africa eastward into the Middle
East, India, and Malaysia, early man probably had to wait
for the Second Glacial. During the interglacial that allowed
his trek northward in Africa, Malaysia would have had an
Equatorial climate — fine if these migrating primates still
lived in trees, but not so good for ground-dwellers. So it’s
likely that migration through Malaysia had to wait until a
new glaciation cooled and dried the area, transforming it into

something like the ground-dwellers’ preferred savanna.
But then, to continue his eastward migration from India
and the Malaysian peninsula, man had to wait for yet
another glacial period. We know that by about a million
years ago he had reached the island of Java, and we also
know that during an interglacial, as today, that would have
meant crossing the Straits of Malacca and Sunda Strait. But

based on his tools, Java man was far from sufficiently
advanced to build the boats required for the crossing. We can
only assume that he stayed put until glacial weather picked
the moisture up out of the straits and added it to the advanc-
ing ice, allowing him to walk to Java on dry land.4 About
500,000 years ago, another mild spell allowed man to com-
plete his westward migration into northern Europe, where
our Neanderthal ancestors settled in.
Let’s jump ahead another 300,000 years to yet another
migration-related question: Where did the original Americans
come from, and when did they arrive? The prevailing answer
is that America’s first settlers arrived about 13,000 years ago,
toward the end of the final Ice Age. They came from Asia
walking across the dry bed of the Bering Sea, which like the
Sunda Strait many years earlier, had sacrificed its waters to
glacial ice — part of the worldwide “oceanic recession” that
was the natural counterpart to the Glacial Epoch. Evidence
for this theory has been unearthed at a site in Clovis, New
Mexico. As Michael Parfit explains, “Stone can’t be carbon-
dated, but the dating of organic material found with the tools
showed that the people who used them were in America no
earlier than about 13,500 years ago.” The story most archae-
ologists built on these ancient tools was of a people they nick-
named Clovis, who came into North America via Siberia,
moved south through the ice-free corridor, then dispersed,
their descendants occupying North and South America within

a thousand years.
But this theory has come under attack over the past
decade. A find at Cactus Hill, south of Richmond, Virginia,
has produced tools that may go back as far as 18,000 years,
and another site — Rockshelter, near Pittsburgh,
Pennsylvania — suggests that people may have been in North
America 20,000 years ago. Such finds raise the radical possi-
bility that the original Americans were not Asian but

European; that they didn’t walk across “Beringia,” but rather
sailed across the Atlantic.5 Did the “oceanic recession” of the
Glacial Epoch shrink the oceans so much as to allow passage
by whatever crude craft might have been fashioned 20,000
years ago?
We’re not likely to find that answer. But these climate-
propelled migrations are fascinating to think about, aren’t
they? Compress an epoch into a season, and we see the same
phenomenon in New Englanders headed to Florida to escape
the harsh northern winter. Or we hear the words to the popu-
lar song:
Going where the sun keeps shining through the

pouring rain Going where the weather suits my
soul …
Skipping over the ocean like a stone.
THE RISE OF CIVILIZATIONS
Some writers are wary of attributing too much importance to

the role of climate in the emergence of human civilization.
Among them are Stephen H. Schneider and Randi Lander,
who prefer this more cautious correlation: “The generally
benign climate that replaced the ice age [roughly 10,000 years
ago] coincided with the rise of civilizations; perhaps it even
fostered their development.”
Yet even they make the obvious climatic concessions. In
the Indus Valley civilization, for example, which arose in
what is today the Rajasthan (or Thar) Desert of India and
Pakistan, the inhabitants of Harappa were cultivating cereals
4500 years ago. These ancient people, write Schneider and

Lander, “populated areas where irrigation was not possible
and not needed; the rainfall provided enough moisture for
their crops. Around 3700 years ago, the civilization faltered
and declined rapidly” perhaps because of a changing climate
and failing monsoon rains.
In China, higher temperatures helped push the range of
some flora farther north so that bamboo groves became
much more widespread. Bamboo was this civilization’s “most
important raw material; the young shoots provided food,
while the more mature stems were used for construction, for
making hats and other clothing, furniture and musical instru-
ments, and for writing on.”
The authors cite other civilizations, too, that blossomed
along with the improving climate of the early Holocene (i.e.,
the present interglacial, beginning 10,000 years ago): the
Sumerians (ancestors of the Southern Iraqis), who flourished
in lower Mesopotamia some 7000 years ago and produced
improvements such as the wheel and clay tablets with writ-
ing; the Minoans in the Aegean region, who emerged around
4400 years ago; and the Egyptians, Romans, and Greeks,
who flourished in the Fertile Crescent, the cradle of western
civilization. In a more direct acknowledgment of climatic
influence, the authors note that while hunters and gatherers
might have inhabited the southwestern United States 13,000
years ago, “they did not begin to sow the land until about
6000 years ago, when New Mexico and Arizona were

[moister].”6
Civilization, of course, requires staying put, which requires
agriculture, which requires water, which requires rainfall.
Claiborne reminds us that desert soils next to great rivers —
as in Mesopotamia, Egypt, and the Indus Valley — are ideal
because they are renewed by flooding every year. In these
places, with warm temperatures, plenty of water, and rich,

silty soil, the land yielded more than the farmer needed.
Higher productivity, abetted by easily maintained irrigation,
further promoted the advance of civilization. It created leisure
for the cultivation of nonmenial pursuits, and it created sur-
plus food which could be traded to other communities.
In the Mediterranean, on the other hand, where the cli-
mate failed to promote irrigation, farmers specialized in
grapes and olives, which thrived on the rocky, but sunny, hill-
sides. Such specialization necessarily fostered trade, and while
they were at it, Mediterranean merchants were soon expand-
ing their product lines to include things like Lebanese cedars
and dried fish — which would vary the diet of inland farm-
ers. (Claiborne speculates that the difficulty of preserving
shellfish may well explain the Mosaic ban on their consump-
tion. The Jews lived so far inland that any shellfish coming
from the coast would surely be spoiled.)
As the Mediterranean climate promoted the production of
specialized raw goods that necessitated trade, so trade
encouraged manufacture: pottery, textiles, dyes, gold and
ivory trinkets, tools, weapons. “By 1800 BC,” writes
Claiborne, “this process had produced along the
Mediterranean coast the world’s first truly commercial civili-
zation populated by merchants, craftsmen, and sailors. It was
the latter, who carried goods, and ideas, between the various
civilized or quasi-civilized lands of the near East and who,
faring westward, bore the enticements and vices of civiliza-

tion to new lands.”7
CLIMATE AND HIGHER CIVILIZATION
Following his own argument to its logical conclusion,

Claiborne suggests an even more far-reaching consequence of
the climate-based shift from subsistence to commercial farm-

ing. In the Mediterranean world, as in most other places
before and since, the subsistence-farming peasant was only
marginally involved in civilization. He produced what he
needed and otherwise stayed out of the way — and under the
radar of the tax collector. On the other hand, the commercial
farmer is tied to the city by the need to sell and buy there,
and is therefore necessarily interested in what goes on there.
Thus in Greece, as opposed to the Near East, for example,
the notion arose that politics and civic affairs were the busi-
ness of the average citizen, not merely of kings and nobles. It
requires only another short step to suppose that this process
advanced further and faster in the Athens region precisely
because, being dryer than the rest of Greece, it was forced to
rely more heavily on commercial farming — and, of course,
on trade. With appropriate hedging, Claiborne concludes, “It
would be a gross oversimplification to trace the burgeoning
of Athenian democracy purely and simply to the effects of
land erosion aggravated by the accident of a dryer local cli-
mate. Yet I feel there is a connection.”8
Eminent climatologist H. H. Lamb might see the connec-
tion as well — particularly as he looks at the “climatic down-
turn” that persisted during the millennia just before the
Christian era. Since the final retreat of the glaciers around
10,000 years ago, the climate had generally improved, reach-
ing the so-called Climatic Optimum between 5000 and 4000
BC — an era when the world’s weather was warm and wet,

and generally benevolent to man and his undertakings. But
from that point a cooling and drying trend set in. By 2500 BC,
world temperatures were comparable to today’s tempera-
tures, but the trend continued for another 25 centuries. Lamb
sees the final 15 of these centuries as a time of “disturbance,”
marked by sudden migrations: the Aryans from Iran to north-
west India; the Dorian tribes into Greece; Hittites and Syrians
raiding Egypt. The moving force behind this upheaval, he

suggests, was drought. “In the case of Crete,” Lamb writes,
“we have the report of Herodotus that after the Trojan War
the island was so beset by famine and pestilence that it
became virtually uninhabited — conditions which certainly
point to drought.”
In asking themselves why, in the last millennium before
Christ, the world had turned against them, perhaps these
now civilized peoples were seeking the consolations of philos-
ophy. “It may be of interest to notice,” Lamb observes,
“that it was in [this] last millennium that some of the great
religions and philosophies of life and the world evolved.”
Deteriorating climate, upheaval, and migration may have sig-
naled the kind of “breakdown of the old way of life and its
ordered customs” that creates conditions conducive to the
spread of a new religion.
For religious leaders and great philosophers, it was truly
a remarkable millennium. “Buddha (563 483 BC) and
Confucius (551 479 BC) each offered solutions to the univer-
sal problem of suffering in human experience. Confucius
taught that all men are brothers and should sustain each
other. The Buddha commended meditation to seek Nirvana,
ultimately to reach a state of reconciliation to the terms of
our existence and a serene view of pain and suffering. The
period from about 600 to 536 BC saw the captivity of the
Jews in exile in Babylon, accompanied by renewal of their
spiritual leadership and exhortations to get back to the laws

that should govern life in the community, which had been
laid down seven centuries earlier during another migration.
And in Greece the middle and later centuries of the
millennium were the times of the great philosophers, whose
teachings influenced Christianity and all later European
thought, leading on to the development of modern science
and democratic debate.”9
So, then, we have the climate to thank for human evolu-

tion, for the rise of civilization, for the development of
Athenian democracy, and for the flowering of the world’s
great religions. Is that all? No. While the climate was driving
the trade-based commerce of the Mediterranean, to the north
it was watering the ground — literally — for the industrial
revolution. Unlike the relatively dry Mediterranean, as
Claiborne points out, the climate of Northwest Europe is
wet: 2.4 inches of yearly rainfall in London, for example,
compared to 0.9 inches in Rome. Prevailing winds off the
ocean mean higher humidity. Rainfall comes in slow drizzles
rather than torrents. All of which adds up to steadily flowing
streams throughout the year.
Northwestern Europe, then, was a place ideally suited for
a miller or millwright to set up shop, since he could count on
a plentiful and dependable source of water power. In fact,
according to William the Conqueror’s Domesday Book, at
the time of the Norman Conquest, England had no less than
5,000 water mills, meaning there had to have been at least
one in virtually every hamlet.
With such an accessible source of power, argues
Claiborne, the next obvious step was for medieval artisans to
begin figuring out some of the other things a water wheel
could do — like saw wood, operate trip-hammers to crush
ore or forge iron, turn lathes, and run looms. “Long before
Watt stared at his apocryphal tea-kettle,” Claiborne writes,
“European industry was the most mechanized and the most

power-driven in the world.”
Moreover, the same water that supplied all this power
also offered cheap and reliable transport. “The Seine and the
Scheldt, the Rhine, Elbe, Oder, and Vistula, not to mention
the Thames and the Severn … provided waterways for trade
and commerce into the interior. Cheaper ways of moving
goods meant better markets for goods, which set up the
incentive for producing more goods, by devising more inge-

nious machinery which required ever more power.”10
“WHAT CLIMATE GIVETH …”
In the first centuries of the Christian era, the climate began to

improve again, with temperatures warming for roughly a mil-
lennium until peaking at the Little Climatic Optimum, or
Medieval Optimum, from about 900 to 1200 AD. Among the
interesting effects of this favorable turn in the weather were
that oats and barley were grown in Iceland; English vineyards
produced wine; locusts invaded Europe; and the Vikings got
restless.
In 960, Viking settlers first arrived in Iceland. They were
led by Thorvald Asvaldsson, who was forced to flee from
Norway after having murdered a man. In what seems a
remarkable example of genetic programming, Asvaldsson’s
son, Eric the Red, murdered two men in Iceland before fleeing
to find his own land to settle. He sailed west, and in 982 dis-
covered what looked like a suitable area on the southwestern
coast of a land mass he named Greenland. The misnomer,
according to Schneider and Londer, was intended to lure
additional settlers — “an early example of a Heavenly Acres
real estate swindle.” Unlike Iceland, with its ample trees and
tillable soil, Greenland, even during this “Little Climatic
Optimum,” remained relatively harsh. Yet Eric succeeded in

drawing settlers, who managed to raise vegetables, hay, and
livestock. At its zenith, the population reached roughly 3,000
people, inhabiting some 280 farms.
But then the climate began to cool again, and the sagas
documenting the Greenland settlement indicate that the route
there began to be blocked by drift ice. Ships were forced to
detour further and further south before they could swing
back up to the coastal settlements. Eventually ships from

Iceland could no longer complete the journey, and the
Greenlanders were cut off. Even Schneider and Londer, who
prefer to find nonclimatic factors behind historical events,
admit that “the cooling climate most likely did contribute to
the Greenlanders’ demise. It destroyed their ability to grow
sufficient crops and inhibited the growth of trees from which
they could have built ocean-going boats, which probably
explains why they did not simply sail away when conditions
worsened. Today, the site of Eric’s settlement is largely bar-
ren tundra.”11
Or consider the Irish potato famine of 1845 1850, which
can be blamed to a considerable extent on the same depend-
ably wet climate that at the same time was fostering north-
eastern Europe’s industrial revolution. H. H. Lamb reports
that the blight arrived in a ship load of potatoes from Latin
America to Belgium and “was wafted to Ireland by easterly
breezes in July and August 1845.” In that year, three-fourths
of the potato crop was destroyed in Belgium and Holland,
too, but in Ireland, overpopulation and poverty turned the
situation into a catastrophe. Moreover, writes Lamb,
“Ireland’s position on the edge of the Atlantic, where the
southerly and southwesterly winds are warm and especially
humid, meant that the disease recurred, to devastate the crop
in several successive seasons, whereas in 1846 a much drier
summer saved most countries farther east.” The result was “a
population disaster … in which climate played a key part”:

millions of deaths and forced migrations that reduced
Ireland’s population nearly by half.12
Or, in our own time, consider 1972. This one remarkable
year brought drought to the U.S.S.R., India, Southeast Asia,
Australia, Latin America, and the Sahelian region of Africa.
It wiped out the Peruvian anchovy fishery. It depleted grain
supplies around the world, resulting in soaring food prices,
and worse, famine that eventually killed or displaced tens of

millions of people. A million deaths in India and Bangladesh
alone were attributed to this “bad weather year.”
Schneider and Londer take a closer look at what happened
to the Peruvian anchovy fishing industry, “since it is a good
example of climate becoming hazardous to food production
and an excellent reminder that the oceans are a significant
part of the climate system.” In that year, thanks to “El
Nino,” the temperature of Peru’s coastal waters rose by sev-
eral degrees. El Nino disrupts the process by which cool,
deep ocean waters well to the surface, bringing with them
oxygen and rich nutrients. The warmer, nutrient-poor water
results in a decrease in plankton blooms, and in the absence
of plankton, the anchovies, higher up the food chain, swam
off, failed to spawn, or died. What had been considered an
inexhaustible source of protein, not to mention a staple of the
Peruvian economy, was suddenly gone. “In 1970,” write
Schneider and Londer, “Peru’s anchovy catch reached a
record high of 12.5 million metric tons. But within three
years the catch had plummeted to less than 2 million metric
tons. After a brief recovery to about 4 million metric tons,
the catch dropped off even further by 1977 to less than 1 mil-
lion metric tons…. This major fishery has shown few signs of
recovery, and some wonder if it ever will.”13
Finally, in the interests of fairness, if we are going to assign
climate a role in the rise of Athenian democracy, let’s consider
that it may just as easily have a contrary effect. For that we

travel to “the driest place on earth”: Chile’s Atacama Desert.
According to Priit J. Vesilind, the arid climate helped spur
the desert’s first period of development, when “in the 1830s,
prospectors found surface deposits of caliche, a raw nitrate
formed over millions of years. Without vegetation to absorb
it or rainfall to flush it away, the ‘white gold’ encrusted much
of the desert’s surface.” Since Europe needed nitrates for the
production of explosives and fertilizers, British and European

mining companies came to the desert to set up shop. By the
end of the nineteenth century the nitrate business was boom-
ing, supplying Chile with half its national income.
But when the nitrate supply was exhausted, the boom
ended, sending thousands of Chilean workers, now jobless,
back to the cities. Angry and disillusioned by their callous
treatment at the hands of their British overlords, these work-
ers embraced communist ideology and elected as their leader
the Marxist, Salvador Allende. Allende’s efforts to help his
constituents by redistributing farm lands and nationalizing
industry led to his overthrow by General Augusto Pinochet’s
military coup,14 thus setting up a form of government even
further removed from “Athenian democracy” than Allende’s
Marxism, which at least came through free elections.
Well, maybe it’s a stretch to say that the climate in the
Atacama Desert brought about General Pinochet’s military
dictatorship.
But what, exactly, can we say?
THE CLIMATE IS … THE CLIMATE
Was climate responsible for the rise of man or the advance of

civilization? Was climate responsible for Noah’s flood or for
the plagues of Egypt?
Perhaps we are not putting the question quite right. Man,

like all other species, intends to survive, and the climate sim-
ply constitutes the field on which that battle for survival will
continue to take place. It is the air we breathe — whether dry
or wet — and the food we eat — whether scarce or
abundant.
As I hope to show, climate touches us, impinges upon us,
in myriad ways — some obvious and some less so. To pick
up the metaphor again, it determines the armor we choose in

our battle for survival — including what we eat, what we
wear, and what we use for shelter. Furthermore — and per-
haps more radically — Part Two of this book will analyze
how climate helps shape the cultural values and attitudes that
lie behind those fundamental consumption choices. That is,
we will discuss not only how climate determines what we
consume, but also how climate helps define who we are.
NOTES
1. Some climatologists prefer to divide the Glacial Epoch

into more than four distinct Ice Ages. But let’s agree with
Robert Claiborne that four is a convenient number.
Claiborne’s Climate, Man, and History (1970) provides
the general background for my discussion of climate’s role
in the history of man.
2. Claiborne, pp. 142 143.
3. Claiborne, p. 170.
5. Parfit (2000, Dec).
6. Schneider and Londer (1984).

8. Claiborne, p. 333.
9. Lamb (1982, 1995).
11. Schneider and Londer, pp. 111 112.
12. Lamb, p. 16.
13. Schneider and Louder, pp. 390 391.

14. Vesilind (2003, Aug).
PART ONE

ONE
WE ARE WHERE WE EAT

Years ago, Chicklets brand chewing gum went to India. The

product was marketed just as it is in America, with the box
of eight pieces and a unit price appropriate for eight pieces.
The introduction was a miserable failure.
I was part of the team whose seven-day mission was to
analyze this failure. The most obvious answer was culture.
The argument went that Indians are not a gum-chewing peo-
ple; that, in fact, Indians chew betel nuts, an activity that
offers pleasures very different from gum chewing. Why would
Indians, used to the stimulating alkaloids in their betel nuts,
be induced to chew a piece of candy-coated gum?
The real answer? India’s warm climate. Nobody chews
eight pieces of gum at the same time (except maybe for base-
ball players). Participants in the product trial would chew
one or two pieces and put the package back in their pocket-
where in the hot weather the candy coating would melt away
from the gum. It was messy and unappealing.
A second problem was a function of the first: eight pieces
were too expensive, especially when most of them were
thrown away. The solution was to repackage the product
21
into units of two pieces — with each piece wrapped in

cellophane. The new package solved the melting problem and
also made the price attractive. Marketed with a clever cam-
paign — “Just for the two of you” — and targeted to young
adults as India was modernizing, the product took off like a
rocket.
I believe it often happens this way: we assume that what
people choose to eat, just like their other “lifestyle choices,”
is a matter of their so-called culture. But in fact, it’s my con-

tention that our food is often chosen for us, predetermined by
climate. To some extent this is simply stating the obvious —
“people in Southeast Asia eat rice because it grows well
there” — but the implications are sometimes less obvious,
and often far-reaching.
THE ORIGINS OF FOOD PRODUCTION
In the Introduction, we noted the importance of climate to

the rise of civilization in southwestern Asia, beginning more
or less with the end of the last Ice Age. In fact, it was food
production, which had its origins in the Fertile Crescent
around 12,000 years ago, that gave the spur to civilization,
and it was climate change that made food production possi-
ble. As noted evolutionary biologist Jared Diamond writes,
“[J]ust as the depletion of wild game tended to make
hunting-gathering less rewarding, an increased availability of
domesticable wild plants made steps leading to plant domesti-
cation more rewarding. For instance, climate changes at the
end of the Pleistocene in the Fertile Crescent greatly expanded
the area of habitats with wild cereals, of which huge crops
could be harvested in a short time. Those wild cereal harvests
were the precursors to the domestication of the earliest crops,
the cereals wheat and barley, of the Fertile Crescent.”
We Are Where We Eat 23
Looking more closely at the climate of the Fertile

Crescent, Diamond describes the area as lying within the
Mediterranean zone, characterized by mild, wet winters, and
long hot, dry summers. Such a climate selects for plant spe-
cies able to survive the long dry season and to resume growth
rapidly upon the return of the rains — in other words,
annuals, which “inevitably remain small herbs.” Such plants
tend to put much of their energy into producing big seeds,
which remain dormant during the dry season and are then
ready to sprout, or be harvested, when the rains come.
Remarkably, says Diamond, the 56 wild grasses with
the largest seeds “are overwhelmingly concentrated” in
the Fertile Crescent or other parts of western Eurasia’s
Mediterranean zone. Future farmers in the area had no fewer
than 32 of these most prized wild grasses to choose among
for cultivation.
What advantages did this profusion of suitable grasses
confer upon the people of the Fertile Crescent? Well, com-
pared to other incipient civilizations, they were able to
domesticate local plants much earlier, to domesticate more
species, to domesticate far more productive or valuable spe-
cies, and to domesticate a much wider range of types of
crops. Consequently, they developed intensified food produc-
tion and dense human populations more rapidly, and thus
entered the modern world with more advanced technology,
more complex political organization, and — by no means
least important — more epidemic diseases with which to
infect other peoples.
Another fascinating aspect of Diamond’s discussion of
food production concerns the direction in which it spread.
The rates and dates of the spread of agriculture varied consid-
erably, he says. “At one extreme was its rapid spread along
east west axes: from Southwest Asia both west to Europe
and Egypt and east to the Indus Valley…. At the opposite
extreme was its slow spread along north south axes,” espe-
cially North and South America.
This makes climatic sense, of course. As Diamond points
out, localities distributed east and west of each other at the
same latitude share exactly the same day length and its sea-
sonal variations, along with similar temperatures, rainfall,
and habitats. “Woe betide the plant whose genetic program
is mismatched to the latitude of the field in which it is
planted!” writes Diamond.

On the other hand, while Eurasia’s east west axis pro-
moted the spread of Fertile Crescent agriculture over the
band of temperate latitudes from Ireland to the Indus Valley,
a very different scenario prevailed on the American conti-
nents and in Africa. For example, Fertile Crescent crops
spread rapidly to Egypt and then as far south as the cool
highlands of Ethiopia, at which point they stopped. As
Diamond notes, “South Africa’s Mediterranean climate
would have been ideal for them, but the 2,000 miles of tropi-
cal conditions between Ethiopia and South Africa posed an
insuperable barrier.”
The Americas provide a similar illustration. For thousands
of years after corn was domesticated in Mexico, its migration
northward into eastern North America was stalled by the
cooler climates and shorter growing season prevailing there.
So the generalization works both ways. Just as movement
along an east west axis tends to result in a journey through
similar climates, so heading north south will carry the trav-
eler through zones that vary widely in climate, day length,
rainfall, habitat, and, of course, in foods consumed.1
To summarize briefly: favorable climatic conditions in the
Fertile Crescent fostered the cultivation of the numerous wild
grasses there, leading to the widespread displacement of the
hunter-gatherer lifestyle by a sedentary agricultural one.
Food production, in turn, allowed for the development of
technology, of writing, and of political organization — the

great hallmarks of advancing civilization. And the rest, they
say, is history.
Interestingly enough, some nutrition scholars are suggest-
ing that the human diet took a wrong turn at the end of the
Pleistocene, that the ‘“whole enterprise of agriculture” might
turn out to be “deleterious to human health.” As reported in
Time Europe, a Swedish scholar of evolutionary nutrition by

the name of Staffon Lindeberg maintains that ailments rang-
ing from heart disease and diabetes to atherosclerosis, osteo-
porosis, and rickets “can probably to a large extent be
prevented by diets resembling those of hunter-gatherers.”
Lindeberg claims that a typical European gets at least 70 per-
cent of his or her calories from foods that were practically
unavailable during human evolution — milk products, most
oils, refined sugar, processed foods like margarine, and cer-
eals — foods he describes as low in minerals, vitamins, and
soluble fiber, but high in fat and salt. We should be ingesting
more protein, more fish, and more lean meat. We should be
eating like our ancient ancestors.
Such thinking has spawned what could become a new
food fad, the “Paleolithic diet.” Those interested can down-
load “grain-free, bean-free, potato-free and sugar-free”
recipes from PaleoFood.com.2
But this thinking also overlooks a couple of points. First,
it was adaptation to climate change, rather than conscious
human choice, that set us on the road to agriculture, and thus
to civilization. And second, there are still many people in the
world — again, as dictated by climate — who do eat some-
thing like a Paleolithic diet. For the most part, these are
northern peoples who live where meat and fish are plentiful
but where vegetables are not. Let’s take a look at a couple of
examples.
NORTHERN DIETS: VEGETARIANS NOT WELCOME
Consider Finland, a country one-sixth of which lies north of

the Arctic circle. As a result, notes a writer in a recent issue of
Europe, “the domestic supply of vegetables and fruits is
rather limited.” As a predictable result of this vegetable-free
environment, Finnish food traditionally contains a fairly high
proportion of animal fat. “In times before centrally heated
buildings,” notes Europe, “the ancient Finn had to be able to

stand the cold during the long winter and needed a protective
layer of fat under the skin. This fact has left its mark to this
day as Finns consume more milk and butter than any other
people in the world.”
A typical Finnish specialty is the kalakukko, “a mixture of
pork meat (as greasy as possible) and a small freshwater fish
called muikku cooked inside a dough of rye.” Game is also a
favorite among these descendants of hunters from the deep
Finnish forests. Even modern urban Finns still love to hunt
and eat moose and reindeer.
Finnish wine wins no prizes, but maybe that’s because this
cold-weather people need a more bracing tonic. “Arctic
bramble and cloudberry are the base for some outstanding
liqueurs,” says Europe. “Of course, there is the Finnish
vodka, which is superb.”3
Or we can jump across the Baltic to Sweden, on December
24, and pull up a chair at the Julbord, the Christmas
Smorgasbord. It will begin with fish, probably both pickled
herring and smoked salmon, then proceed to the main course:
the Julskinka, or Christmas ham. But the Swedes love their
meats, especially on this special feast day, and the table is
likely to include a variety of additional meat dishes: chicken
liver pate, oven-roasted pork ribs, Julkorv (the special
Christmas potato sausage), tiny smoked prinskorv sausages,
and of course Swedish meatballs.
Given Sweden’s climate, the vegetables are going to be of

the root variety: red cabbage, chopped red beets, potato cas-
serole with onions and anchovies. A hunk of yellow cheese
and a variety of breads should round out the feast.4
Hearty fare for a hearty Nordic people, but neither the
Swedes nor the Finns nor the Danes (whose meat-centered
diet is typified by a popular ham sandwich called the skinken-
burger) have anything on the Eskimos who inhabit Little

Diomede Island, in the middle of the Bering Strait. The basis
of their diet is the meat and fat from the walruses they hunt
and kill during the annual marine mammal migration
through the narrow straight. (They also use the walruses’
ivory tusks as currency, wrap the exterior of their fishing
boats with the mammals’ two-inch-thick hide, and even make
skylights in their houses out of scraped, translucent walrus
intestine.)
But walrus meat and blubber are not the only components
of the Diomeders’ diet. They also love something they call
“sour liver,” which is raw walrus liver kept in a large
wooden dish near the stove until it turns into a brownish,
vinegary liquid. They consume a lot of seal oil, too, along
with sea birds and bird eggs. But they also collect a variety of
greens, stems, roots, seaweed, and berries. For example, a
favorite is willow shoots and young leaves, ten times richer in
vitamin C than oranges. Cloudbenies, also rich in vitamin C,
grow profusely on the island’s plateau top. As Fred
Bruemmer writes, the Diomeders’ diet is varied, healthful,
and largely traditional, and their meals are copious, interest-
ing, and probably very nutritious. “Most visitors have
remarked on the Diomeders’ exceptionally strong and vigor-
ous appearance.”5
Another writer, Mary Roach, sampled the cuisine of the
Inuit, Canada’s Eskimos.
After scanning through an article titled “Use and Nutrient

Composition of Traditional Baffin Inuit Foods,” she comes to
this conclusion: “These people still eat a lot of meat. I count
71 meat items in a chart of foods eaten by an Inuit commu-
nity in 1987. The Plants section has five entries.”
Her first experience, after arriving in Pelly Bay, was with a
shank of raw caribou. “Inuit have always eaten meat raw for
the simple reason that they live above the tree line, where
there’s no wood for fires,” she explains. Plus, there are nutri-
tional advantages: by not cooking food, you preserve heat-
sensitive vitamins like C.
Vitamins are a concern, of course, in such a meat-centered
cuisine. One solution, it turns out, is organs. “A serving of
seal liver,” Roach discovers, “has half the RDA for vitamin
C, three times the RDA for riboflavin, five times the vitamin
A in the average carrot, plus respectable amounts of
vitamins B-12, B-6, and D, folic acid, and potassium. Organ
meats in general provide so many of the Inuit’s vitamins
that for purposes of local health education they are classified
both as meats and as fruits and vegetables.”
Fiber? No problem. The Inuit get fiber from “caribou
stomach contents.” As Roach explains, “Tundra plants such
as lichen and moss are high in fiber but tough to digest —
unless, like caribou, you have several stomachs. So the Inuit
let the caribou have a go at it first.” Another source is raw
narwhal skin, or muktuk. It may not be exactly dietary fiber,
but the natives claim it serves the purpose of roughage.
At the “town feast” Roach is invited to, a pickup truck
dumps a load of caribou and walrus into 20-gallon drums of
boiling water. Into a separate drum goes a bucket of char, an
arctic fish that looks and tastes like salmon. Char eye turns
out to be a special delicacy. As one of the locals sums up the
meal, “Lots of protein.”6
So why haven’t all the Eskimos died of heart disease? It

seems their meat and fish diet suits them. In fact, a study of
1800 Greenland Eskimos from 1950 to 1974 showed that
during that quarter-century a grand total of three were hospi-
talized with heart attacks. And in two of the cases, the diag-
nosis was uncertain. That study prompted a flurry of research
into fish oils, the so-called omega-3 fatty acids. The research
continues, and the results to this point seem inconclusive. But

one follow-up study concludes that fish oils “have a modest
anti-clumping effect on platelets and slow down clotting by a
number of mechanisms.”7
Then came the Harvard Health Professionals Study, which
tracked 44,895 healthy men from 1986 to 1992. The conclu-
sion was that fish was “no magic bullet” against heart dis-
ease. “Increasing fish intake from once a week to six or seven
times a week doesn’t reduce the risk of coronary heart dis-
ease,” said the lead researcher. Nor were any benefits seen in
the additional group of 2,000 men who took fish-oil
capsules.8
Have you already guessed my reaction to such studies?
They are irrelevant, of course. What does the indigenous diet
of the Eskimos have to do with the diet of a spectrum of
44,000 American males? My point, of course, is that because
of climatic and environmental factors, the Eskimos genetic
make-up (including perhaps blood type) is compatible with
the Eskimos’ traditional diet. The Native Americans who set-
tled in Mesoamerica don’t eat walrus blubber. The Native
Americans who settled near the Arctic Circle don’t grow
corn. This makes sense.
In Northern Europe, then, it seems clear that meat and
fish remain the basic source for protein, calories, and fat.
Climate dictates that there is less vegetation the further north
you go, and the body’s genetic programming has responded
in such a way as to take most of the necessary protein, fat,

and calories from animal food sources.
Now let’s head south, into southern France, Spain,
Greece, and Italy — in other words, back to the
Mediterranean.
“SUPERLATIVELY GOOD FOOD”

That’s how epidemiologist Ancel Keys described the

Mediterranean diet when he coined the term way back in the
1950s. He was conducting his famous “Seven Countries”
study, which examined health and diet in men of seven
nations: Greece, Italy, Finland, Japan, the Netherlands, the
United States, and Yugoslavia. The lowest rates of heart dis-
ease were reported in Crete, and the cardiovascular benefits
of the Mediterranean diet have been confirmed in study after
study since that time.9
In fact, a 1998 French study of 600 heart attack survivors
suggested a wider range of benefits for the diet. Half the
group was put on the standard American low-fat diet, and
the other half on the Mediterranean diet. Not only did the
Mediterranean diet substantially lower the rate of repeat
heart attacks; it also gave evidence of protecting against can-
cer. Over the four-year period of the study, seven men in the
Mediterranean group developed cancer, compared to 17 in
the other group. Overall, there were about half as many
deaths from any cause in the Mediterranean group.10
So what is this diet? Of course, the Mediterranean diet var-
ies from region to region around the Mediterranean Ocean,
but nutritionists agree on the basics. Keys described it this
way: “The heart of what we now consider the Mediterranean
diet is mainly vegetarian: pasta in many forms, leaves sprin-
kled with olive oil, all kinds of vegetables in season and
often cheese, all finished off with fruit and frequently washed
down with wine… it is much lower in meat and dairy pro-
ducts….”11 A more scientific description goes like this: “The
traditional Mediterranean diet is characterized by a high
intake of vegetables, pulses, fruits, nuts, cereals, a high intake
of olive oil but a low intake of saturated fats, a moderately
high intake of fish, a low-to-moderate intake of dairy pro-
ducts (yogurt and cheese), meat (in small quantities), and
a regular but moderate intake of wine generally during

meals.”12
Natives to the region wax more eloquent. A Greek nutri-
tionist writes, “At the core of the traditional Greek diet are
dark-green leafy vegetables (often wild-gathered), including
dandelions, spinach, mustard, fennel, cumin, and purslane:
fresh fruits such as figs, pears, plums, grapes, melons, and
oranges; high fiber whole grains, beans, and lentils; complex
carbohydrate-rich pasta and breads; olive oil; nuts, and
such herbs and spices as garlic, oregano, bay leaves, cinna-
mon, and cloves.” The cheese in Greek food, she notes, come
from goat’s or lamb’s milk, which makes them lower in fat
and easier to digest. Like the descriptions above, this writer
also emphasizes the importance of olive oil, regarded in
ancient times as a gift of the gods, and understood today
to be a key to this diet’s health benefits (which we’ll come
back to).13
A writer in France talks about being “struck by the reality
of the benefits of the Mediterranean diet” as she strolls
through the farmers’ market at Cannes: “Stall after stall con-
tained the most incredible dark leafy greens, including spin-
ach, turnip, beet, dandelion; bitter greens (some wild) …; a
variety of garlics, green onions …; chives, shallots, leeks, scal-
lions, and onions; daikon and red radishes; colorful, big
round orange squash, turnips, all sorts of potatoes, fennel
(including wild, young, smaller types); a huge selection of
asparagus, an amazing amount of fresh sardines redolent

with protective fish oils, freshly pressed olive oil in brown or
green glass, selenium-rich mushrooms (both cultivated and
wild), unpasteurized fresh chevre or goat’s cheese full of liv-
ing, healthy enzymes, wrapped in chestnut leaves tied with
raffia, and lots of antioxidant-rich herbs and peppers. The
farmers, fishermen, and artisans that sell these foods know
they have something special and the pride that is theirs over-
flows the market….”14

In Spain, the Mediterranean diet expresses itself in
gazpacho — that ancient soup that began with stale bread
soaked in oil and vinegar, thinned with water, spiced with
garlic, and served cold. Originally, according to food histo-
rian Raymond Sokolov, gazpacho took on its unique Spanish
character by the addition of two ingredients found in no
other nation’s soups: almonds and grapes. It wasn’t until the
early sixteenth century, when they arrived in Spain from
the New World, that tomatoes became gazpacho’s central
ingredient.15
Or, if not gazpacho, then maybe tapas, which have been
described as Spain’s “national culinary passion.” Of course,
these “little plates” are suddenly the rage in American cities,
too, with Americanized ingredients. But in Madrid, a tapas
sampler might include oil-marinated olives, wedges of crusty
bread brushed with crushed tomatoes, slices of potatoes
cooked with eggs and olive oil, garbanzo beans tossed with
green peppers, or eggplants grilled and drizzled with olive
oil.16
These foods do sound good, don’t they? And as you might
have noticed, the Mediterranean diet is not rigorously low-
fat. Twenty-five to 35 percent of total calories come from
fat, compared to the 30 percent recommended by USDA
guidelines. It’s just that in the Mediterranean diet, most of
this fat comes from olive oil, with its monounsaturated,
heart-healthy, cholesterol-lowering fats. This cuisine is low

on butter and other foods with high saturated fat content,
and that seems to make a good deal of difference.
But not all the difference. In 2003, the New England
Journal of Medicine published the most impressive study to
date of the health benefits of the Mediterranean diet. Based
on a sampling of roughly 25,000 Greek men and women,
researchers at Harvard’s School of Public Health and the
University of Athens concluded that “greater adherence

to the traditional Mediterranean diet is associated with a
significant reduction in total mortality.” The researchers
developed a nine-point scale that measured adherence to
the diet, and their results indicated that moving up just
two points on the scale translated to a 25 percent drop in the
risk of dying from any disease, a 33 percent lower risk of
developing heart disease, and a 24 percent reduction of can-
cer risk.
So is it the vegetables, the grains, the fruit, the olive oil,
the fish, the red wine?
Interestingly enough, it’s all of the above. According to
Harvard’s Frank Hu, “The study suggests that the beneficial
effects of the Mediterranean diet come as a whole package
instead of in individual components like olive oil,
vegetables or fruits alone.”17
To reiterate: climate determines the raw food sources
in any given area, and the population’s genetic programming
evolves accordingly. It seems clear that the genes of northern
Europeans are designed to absorb protein, calories, and
fat from animal-based sources, while the genes of southern
Europeans happily find sustenance in the much less meat-
centered Mediterranean diet described above (Fig. 1.1).
Consider cheese. That hunk of yellow cheese on the
table at the Swedish Christmas feast is likely to have as much
as 40 percent fat content. The same goes with most of the
Fig. 1.1. The Food and Beverage Differences r 2016

Dr. Jagdish N. Sheth.
ripened and hard cheeses of northern Europe: cheddar from

England, Swiss and Gruyere from Switzerland, Gouda and
Edam from the Netherlands, to name a few. Cheese remains
prevalent as you move south — like mozzarella and ricotta in
Italy or feta in Greece — but in these unripened, soft cheeses
the fat content can be as low only 2 or 3 percent. What’s
more, as you continue south toward equator, the very con-
cept of cheese disappears. It is replaced by oils, like olive and
coconut oil, or in Mexico, for example, by avocado. So
around the world you see fat corning into the diet through
oil, rather than through cheese, as you move from the north
toward the tropical zones. This is a perfect example of a
climate-directed shift from an animal-based to a vegetable-
based source of nutrition.
Spices provide another interesting illustration. Northern
Europeans season their food, basically, with salt and pepper.
But in southern and tropical zones a huge variety of spices
comes into the diet. In the tropical countries and continents,
India, Africa, Indonesia — in many countries in these parts of
the world as many as 12 or 14 different spices are part of the

daily diet. Why? Well, in the first place, nature (i.e., climatic
conditions) provides them. And of course they add flavor.
But beyond that, they help preserve food in a climate where
spoilage is a concern. Even more important, they preserve the
people who eat it. Generally, spices (and herbs) have proven
to be a rich source of antioxidants, the chemicals that neu-
tralize the so-called “free radical” proteins that have been
linked to dozens of illnesses, including cancer, arthritis, and

premature aging. Thyme, savory, spearmint, sage, pepper-
mint, lemon balm, bee balm, rosemary, and oregano are
some of the spices and herbs that have proven to contain sig-
nificant levels of antioxidants.18
More specifically, research is showing particular spices to
be effective in combating particular illnesses. Physician
Sanjay Gupta (widely known for his medical commentary
on CNN) assessed the recent findings for Time magazine.
A native of India, Gupta thanked his mother for all that curry
he ate as a child. It turns out that curcumin, which gives the
curry spice turmeric its yellow color, may help protect against
Alzheimer’s disease. Again, it’s a matter of battling those free
radicals — in the case of curcumin by producing a protein
called HO-1.
While he’s at it, Gupta rounds up the “growing list” of
spices with known or suspected medical benefits: Cardamom,
the aromatic Indian herb that tastes like licorice, has long
been used to treat indigestion. Cumin, a Mexican favorite in
chili con came and hot tamales, may help ward off prostate
cancer. Capsaicin, the main chemical in chili pepper, is used
in topical creams to provide relief from arthritis. And allicin,
the main ingredient in crushed garlic, may reduce cholesterol
and blood pressure.19
Even more recently, research is suggesting that cinnamon
may significantly lower cholesterol, triglycerides, and blood
sugar. A study of 30 men and women with type 2 diabetes

showed that their blood sugar and heart-damaging blood fats
fell 12 30 percent in just 40 days after they started adding a
sprinkle of cinnamon to their meals.
The study’s lead researcher says that just one-sixth of
a teaspoon per meal is enough to make muscle and liver
cells more sensitive to signals from insulin, our important
blood-sugar-controlling hormone.20
And finally, in preliminary experiments, researchers in

California have found that the hugely popular Mexican con-
diment salsa (blended from tomatoes, onions, cilantro, and
green chilies) may be effective against salmonella. The study
suggests that a compound in fresh cilantro leaves, called
dodecanal, not only kills S. choleraesuis in vitro, but that it is
twice as effective as gentamicin, the usual antibiotic remedy.
Now we know why the people who live in Mexico don’t get
salmonellosis, but the people who visit them do.21
VODKA, THE RUSSIAN SPICE (OF LIFE)
It seems unfair that all these natural curatives are available —

abundant and fresh — to people in temperate and/or tropical
zones. How about northern peoples living up there above the
“vegetation line”? What is their compensation?
Maybe it’s alcohol. There’s plenty of anecdotal evidence —
if not scientific — that northern Europeans tolerate alcohol
more easily than their neighbors to south. Their drink brings
cheer and wards off the cold, this theory goes, without
rendering them dysfunctional. In warmer climates, alcohol
is absorbed into the blood stream faster, with intoxicating
results.
Whether or not there’s any truth to this notion, one thing
is for sure: Russians love their vodka. Sufficient proof lies in
the recipe for mixing the Polar Star, a mainstay of happy

hour in Moscow: Measure out a half-glass of vodka, add
another half-glass, and stir.
For better or worse, vodka is Russia’s national beverage, if
not her national pastime. Its place in Russian history has
been officially enshrined with the opening, in 2001, of the
Museum of Russian Vodka in St. Petersburg — part of whose
mission is to dispel the myth that vodka is “a degenerating
aspect of Russian culture.” Exhibits emphasize the indispens-

able role of vodka in Russian feasts since medieval times, and
visitors are greeted by a life-size wax figure of a monk
extending a shot of vodka.22
Various government-backed temperance campaigns have
been waged against vodka over the years, and the stuff is rou-
tinely blamed for the nation’s social ills, but the Russian
devotion to vodka remains undiminished. According to the
Center for Alcohol Policy in Moscow, the average Russian
male drinks more than 23 gallons of vodka annually, one of
the world’s highest levels of alcohol consumption. (This
translates to 16 quarts of pure alcohol a year, well above the
European Union average of 12. The American average is
about 8 quarts.)
Of course, vodka’s contribution to the Russian economy is
considerable. An unusual measure of its importance appeared
in 1998, when authorities in Altai — a particularly depressed
area in southern Siberia — were trying to figure out how to
compensate teachers who hadn’t gotten a paycheck in almost
a year. First, they offered toilet paper, then coffins, but the
teachers held out. Finally, the government offered each of the
8,000 teachers 15 bottles of vodka to cover part of their back
wages.23
What explains vodka’s popularity? From a climatic stand-
point, grapes don’t grow in Russia, but potatoes do.
Moreover, Russia is cold, and vodka, which Russians
typically drink straight, a shot at a time, offers a great way to

warm up fast. It’s doubtful that a Scotch on the rocks or a
Mint Julep would have the desired effect.
Still, even though vodka is indigenous to Russia (it origi-
nated there in the fourteenth century), and even though it is
easily produced from local products and seems the climati-
cally appropriate alcoholic beverage, it is difficult to argue
that vodka is good for Russians or that it should be part of
the Russian diet. After all, recent surveys number 6 million

alcoholics in Russia, up dramatically from 10 years earlier,
and the average life span for Russian men now stands at 58
years, one of the lowest in the world.
On the other hand, Russian history tells us that, in the
tenth century, Prince Vladimir of Kiev chose Christianity as
the religion of the eastern Slavs, in part because Islam for-
bids the use of alcohol. “Drink is the joy of the Russes,”
the prince declared, according to the ancient Primary
Chronicle. “We cannot live without it.”24 Perhaps without
vodka, Russian men would consider even 58 years a few
too many.
THE BLOOD TYPE FACTOR
Okay, maybe vodka isn’t the ideal northern substitute for

all those naturally occurring antioxidants so abundant in
southern climes. Maybe northern people have a genetic
compensation and don’t need so many herb-and-spice reme-
dies. After all, in the case of all-important cardiovascular
health, we have seen that the Eskimos seem to do pretty
well. I have been told by medical friends that along with
Scandinavian genes come wider arteries. If saturated fat
becomes attached to the artery walls, there’s still plenty of
space for the blood to move through — thus fewer heart
attacks. Warmer-climate people’s arteries are narrower, goes

this theory. Blood moves through fast, and any obstruction
quickly creates hypertension, leading to possible stroke
or heart attack. So these people must have their allicin and
their cinnamon.
Personally, I haven’t seen any literature supporting this
theory. But part of our genetic programming, certainly, is our
blood type, and it’s interesting to see how closely blood type
corresponds to the climate diet relationship we have been
tracing out.
According to Peter J. D’Adamo, a leading expert on blood
type and diet, Type O is our oldest blood type, the one of our
Cro-Magnon ancestors, “who propelled the human species to
the top of the food chain.” Once they learned to hunt suc-
cessfully, says D’Adamo, their population exploded. Protein
was their fuel, and in the Cro-Magnons’ meat-centered diet,
“the digestive attributes of Blood Type O reached their fullest
expression.”
When a shift in climate dried the once-productive hunting
lands of the African Sahara, and when previously frozen
northern areas grew warmer, our Cro-Magnon ancestors
were forced out of Africa into Europe and Asia. This move-
ment, says
D’Adamo, seeded the planet with its base popula-

tion, which was Blood Type O, the predominant
blood type even today. He also notes that this north-
ward migration prompted the evolution of less
massive bone structure, straighter hair, and lighter
skin- which not only protected against frostbite
better than dark skin, but also more efficiently
metabolized vitan1in D in a climate of shorter
days and longer nights.
Much like the northern Europeans and Eskimos we have

been discussing, D’Adamo’s Type Os today remain meat
eaters with the hardy digestive tracks of our high-protein
hunter-gatherer ancestors. Their recommended diet is heavy
on lean beet lamb, turkey, chicken and seafood. Of particular
interest, D’Adamo notes that “certain blood clotting factors
evolved as humans adapted to environmental changes, and
were not inherent to the blood of early Type Os. For this rea-
son, Type Os often have ‘thin’ blood, which resists clotting.”

So maybe it is thin blood, rather than wide arteries, that helps
northern people defend against heart disease.
D’Adamo believes that Type A blood initially appeared
“somewhere in Asia or the Middle East between 25,000 and
15,000 BC” in response to the same environmental changes
that would promote the origin of food production and the
rise of civilization. “It emerged at the peak of the Neolithic
period, or New Stone Age,” he writes, “[and] agriculture and
animal domestication were the hallmarks of its culture.” This
radical change in diet and environment resulted in “an
entirely new mutation in the digestive tracts and the immune
systems” — changes that allowed Neolithic people to better
absorb cultivated grains and other agricultural products.
Thus, “type A was born.”
Just as we might have predicted, D’Adamo says that,
“still today, Type A blood is most often found among
western Europeans, with high concentrations across the
Mediterranean, Adriatic, and Aegean seas, particularly in
Corsica, Sardinia, Spain, Turkey, and the Balkans.” And the
diet he proposes — vegetables, soy proteins, grains, and
plenty of fruit — is remarkably like the Mediterranean diet
we have already looked at.
Type B, says D’Adamo, may also have originally mutated
in response to climatic changes. It first appeared in India or
the Ural region of Asia among a mix of Caucasian and
Mongolian tribes and became characteristic of the great tribes

of steppe dwellers who began to dominate the Eurasian
plains. As the Mongolians swept through Asia, pursuing a
culture dependent upon herding and domesticating animals,
“the gene for Type B blood was firmly entrenched.” Not sur-
prisingly, Bs today have strong immune and digestive sys-
tems. Not only do they tolerate red meat, seafood, grains,
fruits, and vegetables, but, according to D’Adamo, B is the

only blood that can fully enjoy a variety of dairy foods.25
***
Thus, time and again we see climate and geography as the
determinants of diet. And as Jared Diamond indicated, diet
change occurs along north south axes. We don’t have to
look from the top of Europe to the bottom to see this pattern.
It is just as clear in individual countries that cover significant
latitudinal distance.
Consider Italy, for example. In the north, in Milan and
Turin, the diet is rich in cream sauces. In the south —
Naples, for example — tomato sauce replaces cream sauce.
In the north, cheese and butter predominate; in the south, the
concept of butter disappears in favor of olive oil.
The same is true in India. In northern India, right below
Himalayas where the weather is cold, cream sauce is a main-
stay, along with a homemade cheese called paneer. In the
south, cheese is gone completely. The diet is based on oils
(coconut), with no animal-based saturated fats whatever.
How about China? The difference between northwestern
and southeastern China is staggering — in climate, diet, cul-
ture, everything. This is particularly important to understand,
given that China will constitute the world’s largest economy
by 2020.
Marketers, manufacturers, and exporters who view China
as one homogenous entity will have to take a closer look.
In America, from Alaska to southern California and

from Maine to Georgia, a variety of climate zones are repre-
sented — and a variety of dietary patterns. In the arid
Southwest, the traditional Mexican cuisine centered in corn
and beans is predominant. The wetter warm climate of the
Southeast produces the leafy greens — collards, turnips, mus-
tard, spinach, cabbage — that are the hallmarks of Southern
cooking. And like the Eurasian plains that produced the

steppe dwellers with their B blood type, America’s plains are
given over to a meat-and-dairy-based diet.
So, then, our bodies are genetically programmed to derive
nutrition from “local fare” — that is, the foods that grow
where we live. This is not a startling assertion. After all, why
do food marketers go to such extremes to label their produce
“fresh”? But the implications are far-reaching — especially as
food becomes homogenized in a global market and, even
more particularly, as other cultures succumb to the blandish-
ments of the American food culture.
As a native of India, I see very clearly that as my mother
country is modernizing and eating more and more western
food, there is a significant rise in heart disease. The problem
is also acute among the many Indians who have immigrated
to America or northern Europe. They adopt the local diet,
but their genes are not organized to take that much saturated
fat from meat products. In fact, in India, animal-based pro-
tein, fat, and calories come almost entirely from milk, not
meat. India is the largest producer and consumer of milk in
the world, but otherwise the diet is vegetation based. So
Indians who allow their diets to become “westernized” are
facing increased health problems.
The potential problems of adopting a genetically unsuit-
able diet are even more vividly demonstrated by the U.S.
African-American population.
THE CASE OF AFRICAN AMERICANS
Public health studies have repeatedly shown that compared

to the overall U.S. population, African Americans have much
higher rates of diet-related health problems, including obe-
sity, hypertension, heart disease, and diabetes. For example,
2.8 million African Americans have diabetes, and the popula-
tion is growing. On an average, African Americans are twice
as likely to have diabetes as white Americans of similar age,

and their death rate is 27 percent higher than whites.
Similarly, according to the National Heart, Lung, and Blood
Institute, about 55 percent of black men and 40 percent of
black women aged 45 54 are hypertensive. For whites in the
same age range, the percentages are 32 and 19 respectively.
Even more alarming, among hypertensives in the United
States, blacks are 10 18 times more likely than whites to suf-
fer kidney failure, and 3 5 more likely to develop chronic
heart failure.
Looking specifically at this “silent killer,” some scientists
and sociologists are quick to point out that blacks’ suscepti-
bility to high blood pressure is not simply a function of diet.
Obvious social and cultural factors contribute. Poverty,
worry, and racial discrimination add stress to the often diffi-
cult battle for simple survival. Poor access to medical care
leaves hypertension and other maladies untreated, when rou-
tine medication could keep them under control.
But it is widely accepted that diet plays a crucial role, and
diet consciousness appears to be on the rise among U.S.
African Americans. Black Vegetarian Societies have sprung
up in New York, Georgia, Texas, Florida, and Ohio, a devel-
opment endorsed by Dr. Christopher L. Melby of Colorado
State University’s department of food science.
“When it comes to high blood pressure,” says Melby, “we
think that vegetarianism is one of the most prudent diets you
can follow. Vegetarian diets are rich in a variety of nutrients,

such as potassium and magnesium, which may have a favor-
able influence on blood pressure. The diet also tends to be
lower in fat and sodium.”26
Sodium certainly is a key. We know not only that salt
intake is related to high blood pressure, but also that hyper-
tension is more likely to be “salt-sensitive” in blacks than in
whites. We know that blacks retain salt longer before excret-

ing it in their urine, and that they experience a greater rise in
blood pressure on a high-salt diet. But why is this? To answer
this question, we move from diet to genetics.
Clarence Grim, a hypertension expert at Drew University
of Science and Medicine in Los Angeles, and his colleague,
bio historian Thomas Wilson have proposed a fascinating-
some say radical-theory, based on the origins of slavery. They
suggest that “severe conditions on the roughly two-month
voyage to the Americas favored the survival of people who
retained more salt. Every year 16 28 percent of the Africans
forced onto the voyages died. Because the body’s electrolyte
balance, in which sodium is one key factor, is its first defense
against illness, ‘salt conservers’ had a better chance to
survive…. Their descendants inherited the trait-and a suscep-
tibility to hypertension that goes with greater salt retention.”
To support the theory, Wilson notes that eighteenth-
century shipboard surgeons reported that most slave deaths
resulted from salt-deficiency illnesses, even as captured
Africans were fed a typically high-salt European diet. The
shift from a customary low-salt African diet would confer an
advantage to salt-conservers because their bodies would rap-
idly build up high levels of sodium, which would protect
them from sodium loss due to perspiration, diarrhea, and
vomiting. These Africans would survive to pass on their salt-
conserving gene.27
Of course, not everybody is in a hurry to embrace this the-

ory. Some dismiss the possibility that evolution could work
that fast. Others say, again, that socioeconomic factors ade-
quately account for the disproportionate occurrence of hyper-
tension in blacks. Still others don’t want anything to do with
a theory that contains genetics and race in the same sentence.
But Jared Diamond is intrigued. Writing in Natural
History, he takes a close look at, and behind, the “salt-gene”
theory. First, he considers salt itself, pointing out that most

plants “contain very little sodium, yet animals require sodium
at high concentrations in all their extracellular fluids.”
Carnivores have no problem; they get all the salt they need
by eating herbivores. But herbivores are not so lucky. That’s
why, says Diamond, the animals you see coming to salt licks
are deer and antelope, not lions and tigers. By the same
token, human hunter-gatherers got their ration of salt from
the meat that they ate. “But when we began to take up farm-
ing ten thousand years ago, we either had to evolve kidneys
superefficient at conserving salt or learn to extract salt at
great effort or trade for it at great expense.”
It follows that since salt was in short supply during earlier
human evolutionary history, people with kidneys efficient at
retaining and storing salt were better able to survive our
inevitable episodes of sodium loss. Diamond observes that
these salt-saving kidneys “proved to be a detriment only
when salt became routinely available, leading to excessive
salt retention and hypertension with its fatal consequences.”
The global shift from subsistence farming to a cash economy
that has made salt ubiquitous, he says, explains why the inci-
dence of hypertension has shot up recently in so many popu-
lations around the world.
Diamond points out that in salt-scarce West Africa, where
most American blacks originated via the slave trade, the
native population must have faced the chronic problem of
losing salt through sweating in their hot environment. Salt-

saving kidneys, therefore, would confer an evolutionary
advantage. “By this argument,” he writes, “the genetic basis
for hypertension in U.S. blacks was already widespread in
many of their West African ancestors…. This argument also
predicts that as Africa’s lifestyle becomes increasingly
Westernized, hypertension could become as prevalent in West
Africa as it now is among U.S. blacks.”
Now Diamond turns to Grim and Wilson’s theory, which

he calls “an intriguing extension to this hypothesis.” Of the
12 million Africans sold into slavery, more than half died
between their capture and their ultimate establishment on the
plantations of America. Many died on the forced march from
the site of their capture to the coast; many more while wait-
ing for departure in the crowded, stifling “banacoons”;
another million or so during the dreaded “Middle Passage,”
where they were packed into a hot, crowded, unventilated
hold with no sanitation; more died while awaiting sale, and
many more while being marched or shipped to their planta-
tion destination. Diamond agrees with Grim and Wilson
“that death was indeed selective: much of it was related to
unbalanced salt loss, which quickly brings on collapse. We
think immediately of salt loss by sweating under hot condi-
tions: while slaves were working, marching, or confined in
unventilated barracoons or ships’ holds. More body salt may
have been spilled with vomiting from seasickness. But the big-
gest salt loss at every stage was from diarrhea due to crowd-
ing and lack of sanitation-ideal conditions for the spread of
gastrointestinal infections.Cholera and other bacterial diar-
rheas kill us by causing sudden massive loss of salt and
water.”
So the terrible experience of the slaves’ journey to the New
World “suddenly selected” for superefficient kidneys, kidneys
even more efficient than those evolved during thousands of
years of West African history. Only those slaves best able to

retain salt could endure the rigors of the passage, particularly
the extreme salt loss to which they were routinely exposed.
“Thus,” writes Diamond, “we have two possible evolution-
ary explanations for salt retention by New World blacks.
One involves slow selection by conditions operating in Africa
for millennia; the other, rapid recent selection by slave condi-
tions within the past few centuries. The result in either case
would make New World blacks more susceptible than whites

to hypertension.”
Diamond concludes by drawing the “larger moral” that
“our differing genetic heritages predispose us to different dis-
eases, depending on the part of the world our ancestors
lived.”28
***
International nutritionists are taking Diamond’s moral to
heart. They are noticing that even the best intentions, in the
form of food relief programs, can sometimes pave the road to
dietary trouble. Dr. Noel Solomons, writing in Asia Pacific
Journal of Clinical Nutrition, considers what happens when
dietary change is wrought in the name of food relief.
In Ethiopia and Eritrea, Solomons writes, the dietary sta-
ple formerly was teff a nutritious grain high in mineral con-
tent. But during the years of civil conflict there, relief agencies
introduced commodities such as refined wheat flour. The
relief was well-intentioned, but, unfortunately, the practice of
using wheat to make traditional bread has persisted, with
two unlooked-for consequences: dependence on imports and
a lower nutritive value for the dietary staple.
Solomons also worries that dietary change, or “mimicry
creep,” can proceed out of free trade and multinational fran-
chising. Open markets for seeds and food products, carbon-
ated beverages, fast food restaurants — all these things
precipitate an “amalgamation of food-ways across cultures,
with a tendency toward supplanting the indigenous food sys-

tem by the acquired.” But if, as we have been arguing, food-
ways have been developed over centuries, or millennia, as our
genetic program adjusts to climate, “an abrupt undoing by
sedentary habits and western cuisine is likely to have detri-
mental effects on human physiology.”
Human populations are not all the same, says Solomons,
and our variety and heterogeneity constitute a “fly in the
ointment of globalized advocacy policies.” He argues further

that our diversity across ethnic groups and populations may
act as an essential protective mechanism, assuring that the
human race will survive even if one or another microcosmic
system becomes vulnerable to famine or plague. “The dietary
danger of the future, in the face of food free trade, may be
that of feast (not famine), with over-consumption of energy-
dense foods in sedentary conditions being more detrimental
to people evolved with active folkways.”
Solomons wonders, hypothetically, what would happen
if Hong Kong’s per capita gross domestic product of
$US21,700 were generalized across the 1.2 billion inhabitants
of China. First, what would be the effect on the world’s
resources if so many people were spending so much money?
But more than that, what would be the effect on the people
themselves if their diet and habits of food production were so
radically altered? “Nutritional science teaches us,” he writes,
“that it is the energy expenditure rates and macronutrient dis-
tribution of the current rural Chinese (‘backward peasant’)
lifestyle and diet that conserve the traditionally low rates of
chronic disease in that country.”29
Writing in the same journal, Geoffrey Cannon takes an
even more jaundiced — and more politicized — view of cur-
rent food aid/food trade policies. His thesis is that the food
being supplied to and consumed in middle- and low-income
countries has the ultimate effect of “disintegrating local,
national and regional food cultures, and also the meal and
therefore family and social life.” Families, he says, are being
turned into “consumer units.”
I find his rationale quite interesting. He argues that the
kind of “universal diet” guidelines formulated by what he
calls the “U.N. system” are devised for societies whose cul-
ture is “based on the idea of the supremacy of the individ-
ual.” He calls this idea “a religious and political concept …
developed in Europe and then in North America, between the

Renaissance, the Reformation, the Enlightenment and the
industrial revolution.” As such, this “essentially Protestant
concept” runs counter to the family-centered culture of Latin
American, Africa, Asia, “and indeed southern Europe” — a
culture that embraces not just the nuclear family but the
larger extended family as well.
Cannon cites Brazil as an example, where in spite of rapid
change and urbanization, the people “are still influenced by
inherited and learned family values, with the meal as the
everyday centre of family life.” Traditional food culture, he
says, based around arroz, feijtio e farofa (rice, beans, and
toasted cassava flour) remains strong, and “the shared appre-
ciation and enjoyment of food chosen, prepared and eaten as
meals in a family setting, is itself healthy, culturally and
socially, as well as nutritionally.”
It’s fascinating, I think, that Cannon essentially classifies
“the supremacy of the individual” as a “northern” idea, and
family centeredness as a “southern” — or tropical — one. In
fact, in Part Two of this book we’ll examine how climate
may effect not just our food, clothing, shelter, but our atti-
tudes and personalities as well — not just our physiology but
our psychology.
In the meantime, Cannon ponders over the hazards of
replacing a traditional food system with another one, even if
in the service of “improved” nutrition. The most insidious
danger, he says, arises when “the staple of the original food

system is replaced by another that is assumed to be relevantly
identical, but which is actually inferior.” As a case in point,
he discusses the plight of Japan’s traditional rice farmers,
with their ancient terraced rice paddies, undermined by the
import of cheap “polished” rice.
Cannon begins with the myth that beri-beri — the deadly
disease of the nervous system caused by deficiency of vitamin
B1 — tends to occur in populations that subsist on white

rice. “Not true,” says Cannon, “because if so, beri-beri
would have been epidemic throughout Asia for many centu-
ries.” In fact, the disease was found to occur among people
who were eating white rice “produced by the new labor-
saving machines that polished the rice, stripping off all its
outer layers, leaving not much more than starch and pro-
tein.” If this polished white rice — “the type that dominates
the supermarket shelves” — replaced the labor-intensive type
produced, for example, by Japan’s traditional rice farmers, it
“would indeed cause epidemic beri-beri”.
Cannon gives his argument a political slant that I don’t
necessarily endorse. But to the extent that he sees these
Japanese farmers as victims of enforced dietary change (some-
what analogous to the African Americans we looked at ear-
lier), his thoughts are worth considering. Pushed off their
land (by cheaper imported rice), and with their health under-
mined by the debasement of their staple grain, “the producers
would become consumers, the peasants would become
patients. Cash expenditure on rice, pills, drugs and guns
would increase, and the usual indicators would show that the
country was more developed…. [This scenario] applies to any
country whose staple grain is rice and it is happening even
in countries where rice agriculture is naturally cheap, because
trade liberalisation does not stop the USA and other rich
nations from undercutting markets, or dumping rice on poor
nations in the name of aid, which is to say, political and eco-

nomic control.”
Against the evidence, Cannon holds out hope: “Might
new nutrition and food policies perceive the people of low-
income countries as relatively healthier, and the people of
high-income countries as relatively less healthy? Might the
food systems of high-income countries be generally perceived
not as models but as warnings, and food systems that have
evolved in response to different climate, terrain and culture

in middle- and low-income countries be protected and
sustained?”30
Cannon is not optimistic, but perhaps at least some relief
agencies are getting the message. For example, enset, also
known as the false banana, is now being studied and
cultivated for its benefits to drought-stricken regions of
Africa. According to a new American Association for the
Advancement of Science report entitled “The Tree Against
Hunger,” enset is proving to be a nutritious food plant that
can be harvested year-round and stored for long periods, that
can survive environmental stress, and that tends to enrich
rather than deplete the soil.
Maybe even more important, enset is native to Ethiopia.
Says Brook Lakew, an applied physicist from Ethiopia, “It’s
very important to rely more on indigenous plants for our
food supply. Studies have shown that indigenous plants are
more resistant to local diseases than imported species. A bout
of crop disease could totally decimate an imported crop and
increase the likelihood of famine. I believe that studies such
as this one will focus people’s attention not only on enset’s
nutritional value but also its genetic adaptation to local con-
ditions over a long period of time.”
The best news is that the plant seems to be working in
drought-stricken Ethiopia, where in 1984 1985 alone, esti-
mates of famine-related deaths ranged from 250,000 to one
million people. Since then, in areas where enset was grown,

residents have been surviving “at a significantly higher rate”
than elsewhere.31
***
Nature is full of mystery and wonder. Here is a final story.
The Masai people of Kenya and Tanzania subsist almost
exclusively on meat and milk. Yet their cholesterol levels are
one-third lower than the U.S. average, and heart disease is
almost unknown. How can this be? The answer is that the
Masai also eat a soup laced with bitter bark and roots that
contain cholesterol-lowering substances called saponins. The
Masai who have moved to the city, where the bitter plants are
unavailable, do develop heart disease at the predictable rate.32
Isn’t that fascinating? Of course, that’s just one of hun-
dreds of similar stories that are coming to light thanks to
researchers in the relatively new field of ethnobotany. In
Tales of a Shaman’s Apprentice, for example, Mark Plotkin
investigated the amazing plethora of medicinal plants that
protect the indigenous peoples of the Amazonian rain forest.
The lesson is always the same. The environment, shaped
by climate, does its best to nurture us. Our genetic program-
ming fine-tunes itself to that nurturing. The Eskimo has his
walrus and his Blood Type O. The Masai tribesman has his
antelope and his bitter bark soup. Yes, we choose what we
eat, and, often, “culture” influences those choices, but not
necessarily for the better. Fast food, fad diets, and designer
ice cream are all reflections of our contemporary culture —
and choices that many of us make all too often.
The influence of climate, though, is pervasive, enduring,
and, ultimately, salutary. As globalization exerts its pressure
for homogeneity, climate reminds us that we are not all alike.
Heeding that reminder will help us protect not only ourselves
but peoples all over the world.
***
NOTES
1. Diamond (1977, 1999). Climate changes at the end of

the Pleistocene, p. 110; wild grasses of the Fertile
Crescent, pp. 136 139; advantages conferred, p. 153;
food production spread along east west vs. north-south
axes, pp. 178 185.
2. Graff (2001, Apr 30).

3. Romantschuk (1997, Jul/Aug).
4. Rosenberg (2000, Dec 13).
5. Bruemmer (1977, Mar).
6. Roach (1994, Nov/Dec).
7. Liebman (1994, May).
8. Long (1995, Jul/Aug).
9. Shapiro (1994, Dec 5).
10. Consumer Reports on Health (Apr, 1999, p. 7).
11. Cited in Noah and Stewart (2001, Feb).
12. Tur, Romaguera, and Pons (2004, May).
13. Gavalas (2004, Feb Mar).
14. Keuneke (1997, Jul Aug).
15. Sokolov (1988, June).
16. Greeley (2004, Mar).
17. Jibrin (2003, Nov Dec).
18. Lamb (Dec 1998 Jan 1999).
19. Gupta (2004, May 3).
20. Altshul (2004, Jun).
21. Pediatric Alert (Aug 8, 2004, p. 90).

22. Peterson (2001, Jun 13).
23. Kwon and Gordon (Oct 5, 1998, p. 4).
24. Cooperman (1996, Apr 15).
25. D’Adamo (1996). See Chapter I, pp. 6 12, for
D’Adamo’s discussion of the origin and evolution of the
major blood types.

26. Modern Medicine (Mar 1996, pp. 21-22).
27. Salisbury (1990, Oct).
28. Diamond (1991, Oct).
29. Solomons (2002, Dec).
30. Cannon (2002, Dec).
31. Bryant (1998, Mar 27).
32. Weintraub (1995, Oct).
TWO
WHAT TO WEAR?
Clothing is as old as man’s need to protect himself from the

cold. At least 50,000 years ago, our Neanderthal ancestors
must have wrapped themselves in the hides of the animals,
like caribou, which they killed for food, and it’s not hard to
imagine these ancient hunter-gatherers with a fur cape draped
around their shoulders.
But then, according to climatologists, about 35,000 years
ago the temperature began to drop. By 18,000 BP, the
glaciers reached their maximum, musk-oxen appeared in
Europe, and most of the temperate zone animals vanished —
along with the Neanderthals. After all, they had only hide
robes, which, even if belted, still left bare the head, neck,
upper chest, lower legs (where European men still have hair
today). They may have perished in the terrible cold of the last
Ice Age.
When man reappeared, his clothing was suddenly sophisti-
cated — thanks to the invention of the eyed needle during the
upper Paleolithic period, perhaps as early as 15,000 years
ago. A needle that could draw a strip of hide (thread) through
a hole meant nothing less than “tailored” clothing — and
55
much greater protection against freezing weather. Paleolithic

people, “with bone needles, stone punches, and sinew thread,
could sew themselves jackets, pants or high leggings, mocca-
sins and boots. Like the Eskimos of today, whom culturally
they somewhat resembled, they could venture abroad in all
but the very bitterest weather.”1
Thus, it seems clear that “fitted clothing” was climatically
driven — a conclusion supported by the discovery of the old-
est bone needles in the caves of central Europe.

Textile garments came later, with the appearance of weav-
ing during the Neolithic period, and even then it was not yet
tailored. The earliest evidence of tailored textile garments
appears among the Chinese, who may have gotten the idea
from the Mongols. The early Romans associated tailored tex-
tile clothing with the “barbarians” and resisted the innova-
tion. At one point Roman law even decreed the death penalty
for anybody caught wearing trousers.2
As that Roman decree illustrates, once you’ve got needles
and thread and woven cloth, you quickly move beyond
clothing-as-necessity and into the realm of fashion. And
fashion, that complex cultural phenomenon, does not
always heed the dictates of climate. But that’s a point we’ll
return to.
First, a few generalizations: originally, and to a lesser
extent still today, what people wore was a function of the
raw materials supplied by their climatic environment. In
northern climates, the raw material at hand tended to be ani-
mal rather than vegetation, so clothing came from wool and
leather. In warmer climates, clothing has tended to be plant
based — made from cotton or flax, from which linen is
woven (Fig. 2.1).
In cold climates, clothing is designed to fit tightly (as with
our needle-wielding Paleolithic ancestors) to keep the air
away from the skin. In warm climates, clothing (assuming it
What to Wear? 57
Fig. 2.1. The Clothing and Shoes Differences r 2016

is worn at all) is designed to fit loosely, so that air can pene-

trate and perspiration can evaporate.
In the north, because of a dearth of plants from which to
make dyes, clothing’s colors were muted. On the other hand,
think of South American serapes or African dashikis. Where
vegetable dyes are plentiful, colors are vibrant, strong, and a
source of pleasure and pride. To be colorful is the right thing
to do. Loud is good. At weddings in India, where I come
from, there is nothing as beautiful as the richly colored saris
that the women wear — nothing as beautiful except for the
bride, of course.
The caveat to these generalizations is that, for the last five
centuries or so, much of the world has been influenced by
what western Europe has done — and worn. Western Europe
has wielded the economic clout, and, consequently, the cul-
tural clout as well.
Taking its cue first from Europe and then the United
States, the world has sought to become “Westernized.” The
fact that roughly 6 percent of the world’s population (north-

west Europe) has had such a disproportionate impact on the
rest of the world is fascinating in itself. And it’s part of the
story that we’ll return to.
In the meantime, let’s look at some examples of what we
might call climate-designed clothing.
COLD-WEATHER CLOTHES
No better place to begin than with the attire of the so-called

“Iceman,” who, at 5300 years old, is said to be by far
the most ancient human being ever found virtually intact.
The Iceman was discovered in 1991 on the Similaun glacier
high in the Alps on the Austrian-Italian border. He is also
called “homo tyrolensis,” or “Oetzi” (from the Oetztaler
Alps).
“The Iceman was well prepared for the Alpine chill,”
wrote Time magazine shortly after the discovery. His basic
article of clothing was an unlined fur robe made of patches of
deer, chamois, and ibex skin. Though the garment was not in
great shape after 5,000 years, researchers report that it had
been cleverly sewn together with threads of sinew or plant
fiber in a kind of mosaic-like pattern. “The person who made
the clothes initially was obviously skilled. This indicates that
the Iceman was in some way integrated into a community,”
says prehistorian Markus Egg, in charge of restoring the
clothes at the Roman-Germanic Central Museum in Mainz,
Germany. The grass thread used to make repairs in the
garment, Egg says, suggests that “he did them himself in
the wilderness.” Evidence at the site indicated that, for
further protection, the Iceman wore a woven grass cape over
the garment similar to those used by Tyrolean shepherds as
What to Wear? 59
late as the early twentieth century, along with fitted leather

shoes.3
Ongoing research over the past 12 years has given us an
even clearer picture of how remarkably the Iceman’s clothing
was adapted to his environment. His footwear was particu-
larly sophisticated: bearskin for the soles, deerskin for the
insteps, and calfskin and bark uppers. The shoes were also
insulated with dried grass — ideal for keeping feet warm and
for preventing the build-up of sweat, which in freezing condi-

tions would lead to frostbite.
“Here was a man,” writes Clive Tully in Geographical,
“who’d clearly learnt how to live in a harsh environment.
Some of the techniques he used weren’t that different from
those employed by Inuit and Saami people in the frozen lands
of Greenland and Scandinavia until recently. Inuit footwear
consisted of sealskin lined with sphagnum moss, while even
today, Saami reindeer herders use reindeer-hide boots stuffed
with hay. In North America, oak leaves in moccasins did the
same trick.”4
Let’s come forward a few millennia and jump from the
Alps to the Aleutians, the island chain that stretches from the
southwest tip of Alaskan peninsula all the way across to
Siberia and forms a barrier between the North Atlantic and
the Bering Sea. The islands have been occupied for most of
the Holocene, at least for the past 8,000 years. But the
so-called “Aleutian tradition” dates from 2500 BC to
1800 AD. (The arrival of the Russians in the mid-eighteenth
brought widespread depopulation from introduced diseases,
massacres, and subjugation.)
The Aleutian climate is governed almost entirely by the
sea, resulting in cool temperatures with little yearly or daily
variation. Average summer highs are around 10°C, and aver-
age winter lows are around 0°C. The cold temperatures are
exacerbated by the Aleutian Storm Track, which brings a
constant, year-round barrage of low-pressure systems, blow-

ing from west to east, across the length of the archipelago.
The storms bring clouds, wind, and rain, and leave very few
days of clear weather. Rain is in the forecast half the days of
the year, and heavy fog almost as often.
This pattern of year-round cold, rain, fog, and high wind
makes hypothermia a nearly constant threat, particularly as
Aleuts often hunt far from home. They’ve met the challenge
by fashioning suitable clothing from the materials at hand:
warm fur and feather parkas and sea mammal-intestine rain
garments. According to World Archaeology, “Tailored skin
clothing in the form of bird skin and sea mammal skin parkas
and waterproof gut outer parkas (kamleikas) provided a
combination of warmth and dryness against the cool and wet
of the Aleutians. Exquisite sewing made it possible to pro-
duce clothing that was well decorated as well as warm and
dry.”5
The Inuit, too, know something about surviving in the
cold, and also about the efficacy of sealskin clothing. Once
the Inuit women have chewed the seal’s skin until it is pliable,
they then use it for coats, hoods, and water-proof boots.
Inland Eskimos make their coats from caribou, warmer but
not so water-proof. Underneath they wear a shirt of bird
skins, with the feathers turned inward for warmth, along
with bearskin trousers. The Eskimo’s outfit is accented with
the bone goggles he has fashioned to ward off snow
blindness.
Animal-based clothing remains the rule across these north-
ern climates. In Europe’s tundra region, the Laplanders of
Norway, Sweden, and Finland make their clothes from rein-
deer skin — including water-proof boots, stuffed with sedge
and stitched up with reindeer sinews. On the other side of the
Atlantic, the hardy fur trappers of North America wore
What to Wear? 61
beaver hats, fox or rabbit mittens, moccasins, or fur-lined

overshoes and fur or leather coats.6
CLOTHING FOR A TEMPERATE CLIMATE
Dropping down into the temperate zone brings the shift from
animal-based to plant-based clothing. The apparel of the
tradition-steeped farmers and fishermen of rural China offer

a fine illustration. The simple two-piece shan ku, made from
durable, hard-wearing, and locally grown hemp or cotton
was the basic garment. More uniquely indigenous were the
conical straw hats, made of bamboo splints and leaves, worn
particularly in the warmer provinces south of the Yangzi as
protection against sun and rain. “Coolies and boat people
wore a hat of bamboo with a domed crown and turned-
down brim,” writes clothing historian Valery Garrett, “and
this is still worn in the fishing communities of southern
China.”
An even more remarkable example of clothing shaped by
a specific environment is the centuries-old suo yi, a straw
raincoat worn by farmers, boat people, and coolies. “Dried
leaves from palm trees or rice straw were used, depending on
the region, and layers of the leaves or straw were folded and
stitched to the layer above with string made from rice straw.
The layers were wider at the top to form a cape. ‘A Chinese
thus equipped’, wrote a nineteenth-century historian, ‘may
certainly defy the heaviest showers’.”
Many of these laboring people went without shoes,
though when the weather turned cold, they might have a pair
of cloth shoes or straw sandals. Also, in the nineteenth
century, some villagers were already wearing a shoe style
that would be reincarnated in late twentieth-century
America: wooden clogs. The Chinese fashioned theirs from a
block of wood, about five centimeters thick, and a leather

upper made from buffalo hide.7
Virtually all traditional Chinese textile clothing came from
three sources: hemp, cotton, and silk. Note that they are all
plant-based (assuming you allow that silk comes, indirectly,
from mulberry trees). Except for a few minority groups in the
northwest, few Chinese kept sheep, so wool clothing was
scarce until on into the twentieth century.

Hemp, indigenous to the region, has been grown in China
at least since the Zhou (Chou) dynasty (approximately
1122 256 BC). Its usefulness as a source of clothing for the
peasant population made its cultivation a major farming
occupation for many hundreds of years, and it continued to
be the dominant fabric until supplanted by cotton in the
thirteenth century.
Cotton was not indigenous to China, but once brought in
from Burma and Turkestan during the Song (Sung) dynasty
(960 1279 AD), it proved so adaptable that its cultivation
quickly spread from north to south. During the Yuan dynasty
(the “Mongol” dynasty, 1280 1368 AD) cotton overtook
hemp as the main fabric worn by the poorer classes. By the
mid-nineteenth century, demand for raw cotton was huge,
and its production became a dominant industry in the Yangzi
and Yellow River basins.
As for silk, archeological evidence now suggests that
this material was first produced in China in Neolithic
times, but the legend is better: “The discovery of silk has
been attributed to Lei Zu, wife of Huangdi, the Yellow
Emperor (the mythical first emperor of China), who saw
caterpillars in the garden eating mulberry leaves; some
days later she discovered the caterpillars had spun cocoons
made up of a web of gossamer-like fibers. Experimenting,
she found that by boiling the cocoons in water the threads
What to Wear? 63
unraveled easily; from this the first silk fabrics were

produced.”8
Thus, as we move from the cold into the temperate zone,
we see plant-based clothing predominate. In China, hemp
and cotton for the working poor, silk for the affluent. In all
three cases, the fabrics are climatically appropriate and
locally produced, and the designs — among those who
work — are suited to the labor.
As for color, vegetable and mineral-based dyes have been

used for centuries in China, but, interestingly, who wears
what color was long a matter of imperial decree. The work-
ers’ shan ku was usually dark blue, from a dye produced
from indigo. The gorgeous silks, for which the Chinese are
justly famous, took their dyes from a number of natural
sources. Red came from the mineral cinnabar, or else from
safflower, whose flowers had to be rinsed under running
water until the yellow washed away, then were pressed into
small cakes from which the red dye emerged. Black could be
produced from gall nuts, the woody swellings on oak trees
caused by gall fly infestation. Flowers of the scholar tree,
when mixed with alum, would produce yellow; when the yel-
low was mixed with indigo, it turned to green. Purple might
come from blending red with blue — indigo mixed with sap-
pon wood, for example.
These are but a few examples from the China’s vast
nature-supplied palette. As Garrett notes, “In the Han
dynasty there were more than twenty hues in existence, and
by the Qing this had grown to several hundred.” Chemical
dyes came to China in the 1870s, bringing about the demise
of plant-based colors.9 Later, in another context, we’ll take a
brief look at the development, and consequences, of these
new aniline dyes.
TROPICAL ATTIRE
Tropical climates are not always hot, of course. On the high

Bolivian plateaus, for example, the Andean Indians worry
less about heat than about the so-called “Harvest of Death,”
a frigid wind that causes lung disease. If they’re not basking
in the sunshine, these people wrap themselves in shawls and
scarves woven from alpaca and llama wool to protect them-
selves from ice-cold shade and night-time temperatures.10

More typically, we think of tropical climates as warm and
moist, like those of the Pacific islands or the rain forests of
equatorial Africa or South America. We have all seen pictures
of native peoples in these regions dressed in grass skirts, or
clothing from coconut leaves or fibers, or, perhaps, nothing
at all except body paint.
With regard to Pacific island peoples, Jared Diamond
explains that the inhabitants of these islands, spreading east-
ward, eventually moved beyond the range of wool-yielding
domestic animals and fiber plant crops and hence of woven
clothing. In one particularly interesting scenario, they became
dependent on pounded bark “cloth” for their clothing.
“Inhabitants of Rennell Island,” he writes, “a traditional
Polynesian island that did not become Westernized until the
1930s, told me that Westernization yielded the wonderful
side benefit that the island became quiet. No more sounds of
bark beaters everywhere, pounding out bark cloth from
dawn until after dusk every day!”11
It may have disappeared from Rennell Island, but the
sound of the bark beater persists in equatorial Africa, in the
Ituri rain forest in Northeastern Zaire. Writing in Natural
History, David Wilkie and Gilda Morelli hear “the steady
percussion of an ivory mallet on a log anvil resounding
through the forest” as Mokomoko, an Efe Pygmy, “is hard at
What to Wear? 65
work, pounding a thin strip of fig tree bark into a supple

swathe of clothing.”
Once Mokomoko has produced the cloth, it falls to Aluta,
his wife, to adorn it, a task to which she brings experience,
skill, and a variety indigenous dyes. First, she’ll sketch the
design in black, using juice from the tato fruit. Then she’ll fill
it in with reds and yellows: the red dye from fine wood dust
from a piece of Mokonoko heartwood, and the yellow from
the mashed-up carrot-like roots of a herb called binjali. By the

end of the day, Mokornoko and Aluta will have produced a
beautifully colored and patterned bark cloth, appropriate for
their granddaughter’s “iRna,” or coming of age ceremony.12
Bark cloth appears yet again in Uganda. In Through the
Dark Continent, Victorian explorer Henry Morton Stanley
had described the “native cloths” of the people there,
which were “light brown” and “depended from the right
shoulders.” He was surely talking about the traditional
Baganda material known as olubuggo, fabric made from
beaten fig tree bark.
“At the time [of Stanley’s travels, 1878],” writes anthro-
pologist David Stairs, “barkcloth was widely used by the
Baganda. A softer version was used for bedsheets, with a stif-
fer version for blankets. One advantage of barkcloth over
cotton is that mosquitoes can’t bite through it. The Baganda
had many grades of barkcloth, from that considered fit for
the Kabaka [king] on down.” Stairs notes that, these days,
barkcloth is relegated to ceremonial use (like the garment
Mokomoko and Aluta produced for their granddaughter’s
“iRna”) and that the technique for making it is becoming a
lost art.
Incidentally, on the streets of contemporary Uganda, you
are more likely to see the kitenge, a patterned shirt/pant
ensemble made from cotton “that resembles nothing so much
as pajamas.” The kitenge’s chief virtue is that it is cool and
comfortable in the hot equatorial climate.13 In that regard,

perhaps it compares to the traditional Thai garment, the gang
geng-lay, a popular large cotton casual pant worn by both
men and women. I have jumped across the Indian Ocean to
Thailand because of Bangkok’s reputation as “The Hottest
City in the World.” How hot is it in Bangkok? Well, in the
United States, if the heat index is expected get up to 105°
Fahrenheit (41°C) for just three hours, the National Weather
Service issues a Heat Advisory. Bangkok gets hotter than that

every afternoon for more than six months each year.
Bangkokers say they cope, at least in part, by adopting the
spirit of mai pen rai (“don’t worry about it”), but the gang
geng-lay helps — along with sandals, rather than shoes, as
the accepted footwear.14
So much for our brief tour of “climate-controlled” cloth-
ing. By no means comprehensive, the list merely offers a few
examples of times and places where what people wore — or
still wear — was or still is governed by climate. I would
emphasize that climate encompasses both the weather that
clothing is adapted to as well as the natural materials (animal
or plant) from which clothing is made. Now let us consider
what happens when the influence of climate is trumped by
any of a variety of forces at play in contemporary culture —
technology, fashion, Westernization, etc.
CLOTHING AS A SYMBOL
In the preceding chapter we saw the considerable extent to

which eating habits are shaped by climate. As a corollary, we
noted that people’s genetic programming seems to adapt to
the foods indigenous to the areas in which they live. We saw
examples of diets that, though perhaps odd to us, seem to
work for the people for whom the food was local and
What to Wear? 67
available. On the other hand, we saw examples of deteriorat-

ing health where people’s indigenous diets were supplanted
by non-native foods, even if in the name of nutrition.
The climate clothing relationship tells perhaps an even
more interesting story because, as we suggested at the begin-
ning of this chapter, clothing very quickly became more than
protection against the elements. It became a symbol, a means
of conveying class and status. To some extent this is true also
of food, of course. If you serve your guests beluga caviar and

lobster tails en buerre, you are making a different kind of
statement than if you serve boiled hot dogs. But any young
person enduring the rite of passage known as high school will
tell you that the clothes he or she puts on in the morning are
a lot more important than what the family is eating for
breakfast. Is the clothes obsession something the high
schooler will grow out of? I wouldn’t bet on it.
Clothing has been conferring status since ancient times.
Among the Manchu emperors of China, for example, robe
colors were strictly controlled. Bright yellow, representing
central authority, was reserved exclusively for the emperor,
while “apricot yellow” was for the heir apparent. “Golden
yellow,” really orange, designated the emperor’s sons, and
princes and nobles wore blue or brown.15
Even more sweeping were the so-called sumptuary laws
enacted in various societies to prescribe or forbid the wearing
of specific styles of clothing by specific classes of persons. In
ancient Egypt, for example, only the high-born could wear
sandals. We have already mentioned the Roman edict against
trousers; in addition, both the Greeks and Romans controlled
not only the type and color of garments worn, but also the
embroidery with which they could be trimmed.
According to at least one historian, Japan produced the
strictest of all sumptuary laws. In the case of a farmer whose
income was approximately $500 a year, “no member of his
family could wear garments of silk and even if his daughter

should marry a man who was permitted to wear silk, the
bridegroom was requested not to wear it at the wedding cere-
mony.” If the poor farmer’s income was only $100, his
family’s sandals might be made of wood with cotton straps,
but leather was prohibited. Nor were the poor allowed to use
sunshades or paper umbrellas; only straw raincoats or large
straw hats were permitted.16
In societies where the legal code did not mandate clothing

styles, economic law had pretty much the same effect. How
you dressed stated clearly where you belonged in society, and
if you wanted to belong higher up, you had to figure out how
to dress the part — and be able to afford it. “By the early
eighteenth century,” writes the novelist Alison Lurie, “the
social advantages of conspicuous dress were such that even
those who could not afford it often spent their money on fin-
ery. This development was naturally deplored by supporters
of the status quo. In Colonial America the Massachusetts
General Court declared its ‘utter detestation and dislike, that
men or women of mean condition, should take upon them
the garb of Gentlemen…’.”17
Have we veered off-subject? What does aping the latest
fashion — or the symbolic value of clothing — have to do with
climate. Is fashion necessarily at odds with the common sense
that climate would seem to impose? And even if it is, so what?
Is there any harm in my dressing fashionably if I want to?
In many cases, no, there is not. Take that most interesting,
most superfluous, and most fashionable accessory, the necktie.
FASHION’S TIGHT NOOSE
Certain items of clothing that once made sense, from a

climatic standpoint, have outlived their usefulness, but
What to Wear? 69
nevertheless remain entrenched in the contemporary ward-

robe as a matter of fashion. No better example can be offered
than the necktie.
Its origin is interesting. In 1636, a small army of about
6000 Croatian mercenaries arrived in Paris to demonstrate
their support for Louis XIV and Cardinal Richelieu. While
Richelieu was presumably discussing a strategic alliance with
the Croatian chief, the Sun King was admiring the soldiers’
traditional dress — especially the scarves tied around their

necks. The fabrics varied from the coarse material used by
the common soldiers to the fine cottons and silks worn by the
officers, and Louis was delighted by the way the ends of the
cloth draped elegantly over the soldiers’ white shirts.
Needless to say, the scarves’ function — to protect the sol-
diers’ necks from cold and dust — was of no interest to
Louis. He launched the cravat (from the French Croates for
“Croatian”) at his court in Paris, and shortly thereafter
Charles II introduced it to England upon his return from
exile. In short order, the once-functional piece of apparel was
transformed into a useless but de rigueur fashion accessory.
“From there,” writes Marina Malenic, “the tie, in its numer-
ous incarnations, conquered the world.”18
Amazing to think, isn’t it, that almost four centuries later,
business executives, professionals, and government leaders
around the world still subject themselves daily to the stran-
gling pinch of the ridiculous necktie. Why? Daniel Harris,
writing in American Scholar, wryly suggests that the tie may
yet retain some of its vestigial purpose: “Businessmen wear
ties partly to cover up the so-called neck dimple, the soft, eas-
ily punctured area of flesh beneath the Adam’s apple, which
executives, perhaps in response to Paleolithic memories of
pitched battles waged out on the savannas, take great pains
to hide. Perhaps they unconsciously believe that their knots
provide armor against the cutthroat tactics of competitors
who revert to jungle warfare around the conference table,

threatening surprise tracheotomies on colleagues who inad-
vertently stick their necks out while jockeying for power.”
For whatever reason, everybody seems to be doing it. The
necktie illustrates not only the hegemony of fashion, but also
the hegemony — in fashion as in everything else — of the
West. For reasons that Jared Diamond has already enumer-
ated, that tiny piece of the planet known as northwestern
Europe has exerted enormous influence over the rest of the

world. Now we see in the newspaper a picture of China’s Hu
Jintao transferring the rest of his power to President Xi
Jinping, both men in the obligatory suit and tie. What hap-
pened to the good old Mao jacket? Only in societies that are
either adamantly indigenous — Native American, African —
or rabidly anti-Western, like many of the Muslims of the
Middle East, do we find any respite from the necktie.
And this even when our own culture — or at least counter-
culture — has long viewed the necktie as the defining symbol
of corporate conformity, the figurative asphyxiation of indi-
vidualism and creativity, a metaphor for enslavement to the
daily grind. Yet we still wear it. Harris offers another possible
motive: that the infinitely colorful necktie is not really a sign
of bondage but of liberation, liberation from the dismal hues
of the business suit. Harris suggests that the necktie’s “profu-
sion of colors and patterns is a direct consequence of the
extreme repression of the rest of business attire, which
thwarts men’s aesthetic impulses at every tum.” He may be
right, but that raises another question. Why in the world
must the business suit be so dark and drab? Harris’ answer is
ingenious: that when the industrial revolution in the nine-
teenth century made once expensive dyes available to the pro-
letariat, the affluent business class reacted by anointing dark
clothing as tasteful and proper and dismissing colorful styles
as vulgar. “The tie remained as the one splash of frivolity in
What to Wear? 71
the mist of the snobbish color moratorium” imposed by the

staid bourgeoisie.19
My own theory is that the dark business suit is another
vestige of clothing’s climatic function. Dark clothes were nat-
urally favored in northern Europe because dark materials
hold in heat better than light ones. We think of Dickens’
Scrooge, working in his poorly heated country house, dressed
in layers of funereal black. Also, northern climates were not
blessed with the variety of plants from which dyes were typi-
cally made. In southern Europe, on the other hand, even a
thousand years ago, bright, colorful clothing abounded.
Peasant folk made their own simple tunics, often from flax,
then dyed them in vivid hues from homegrown plants. “The
richer the person, the softer, brighter, and more elaborate
the clothing.”20
Yet the business suit, like the tie, now serves the dictates
of fashion, and fashion decrees that the business suit shall be
dark. Some attribute the continuing somberness of the busi-
ness suit to the influence of IBM. “At Big Blue,” writes Bill
Saporito in Fortune, “you could wear any color you wanted
to as long as it was dark, and any color of shirt as long as it
was white…. What was good enough for Big Blue was good
enough for the Big Eight accounting firms, not to mention the
FORTUNE 500.”21
Big Blue’s rigidity — along with, possibly, some small
climatic influence — spawned a rebellion. In Silicon
Valley, home of freewheeling entrepreneurs and high-tech
superstars — people started wearing whatever they pleased to
work. They didn’t want to look like IBM or HP, and they
didn’t want to stifle in suits during the valley’s hot summer-
time, either. Their notion that you could wear jeans to work
and still accomplish something seemed to take hold, and in
the early 90s “Casual Friday” was born. From Wall Street
to Peachtree Street, people were saying to hell with suits and
ties — we want to be comfortable at work! What a radical

notion — that the circumstances of your environment, not
fashion, should determine what you wear to the office every
day.
The rebellion was short-lived. At banks and brokerage
houses across the land, it’s back to dark blue and conserva-
tive gray. A CEO in Atlanta told his staff that if they wanted
a casual day, they could come in on Saturdays. Fashion
designers are burying Casual Friday under racks of new —

but traditional — men’s suits.
Still, there’s at least one executive out there who is draw-
ing the line: he won’t return to the necktie. “I hate them,” he
says of his closetful of ties. “Every single one. There was a
time when I was so proud of them, but now when I put one
on I feel like a monkey on a chain.”22
Admittedly, however, except for the poor young boy in
church tugging desperately on his necktied shirt collar, not
many people are claiming that their neckties are hurting them.
Ties may be silly, yes, but they’re probably not harmful.
CLIMATE VERSUS FASHION
There have even been instances — though probably rare —

where fashion has actually taken its cue from climate, with
salutary results. Climatologist H. H. Lamb writes that the
decade from 1810 to 1819 was the coldest in England since
the 1690s. The return of this colder weather, he says, “led to
the designing of certain articles of warm underwear for
women, notably the ‘bosom friend,’ and brought to an end
the daring fashions begun in the post-revolutionary 1790s in
France, which ‘exposed the person’ a good deal. It was
remarked at the time that it was the north wind which
enforced a return to modesty in women’s dress.”23
What to Wear? 73
But the “fashion trend” of wearing plenty of clothing took

on a life of its own during nineteenth-century England and
America. True, the trend was abetted by the popular notion
that “sudden chilling” was the cause of most diseases.
Toward the end of the century, a Lord & Taylor advertise-
ment noted that “a light cashmere or silk undergarment dur-
ing the summer months has become the almost universal
practice. It is necessary to health in this changing climate.”
As a matter of fact, the overdressed look caused a virtual epi-

demic of skin ailments during the era. Typical was the case of
the man suffering from erythema-urticaria (red, itchy patches
on skin) because he persisted in wearing a woolen vest in hot
weather, despite heavy perspiration, for fear of catching cold.
In the Victorian era, fashion was also conspiring with
notions of decency to insure that everybody had plenty of
clothes on, whatever the weather. Men, women, children,
and even infants were buried underneath heavy, stiff, scratchy
clothing: neck-to-ankles underwear, stiff shirts, vests, pants,
and one or more coats for men and boys; petticoats, corsets,
complicated dresses, and coats or capes for women and girls;
hats or bonnets for both genders and all ages. Infants sweated
and fretted in woolen belly bands and undershirts, socks,
and pinners, and were swallowed up in dresses one or two
feet longer than they were. Ultimately, dermatologists attrib-
uted a variety of ailments — prickly heat, fungal rash, itchy
skin patches, and “furuncles” or boils — to this habitual
overdressing.
These problems were exacerbated by the fact that during
the same era came a revolution in dye chemistry — the devel-
opment of the first synthetic dyestuff, extracted from coal-tar.
Prefiguring a thousand other ways in which advancing tech-
nology would “improve” modern life, cheaper chemicals
replaced plants as the source of the dyes used on clothing.
Dermatologists would soon realize that these aniline dyes
(coal-tar extracts) and later, the arsenic and lead compounds

used as mordants (to fix the colors to the cloth), were associ-
ated with dermatitis, eczema, and “unspecified skin
disorders.”
So in the late nineteenth century, dermatologists inveighed
against aniline dyes and toxic mordants, tight clothing,
and too much clothing. As fashions changed in the new cen-
tury — to loose-fitting cotton underwear, for example —
“less traumatism of the skin” became evident. But the change

in fashion brought its own problems. Once tanned skin became
socially acceptable in the 1920s, sun damage proliferated.24
Ironic, isn’t it. Climate would seem to be the enemy, and
the people can’t win.
But take a closer look. It’s not southern Europeans or
native Americans who suffer from skin cancer, but northern
Europeans and their American descendants who move to
warmer climates and decide that a tan would be becoming on
their fair skins.
In fact, one of the world’s highest rates of skin cancer
occurs among the British immigrants to Australia, especially
among their children who are born there. In 1985, research
found that two out of three people born in Australia [of
immigrant parents] were likely to require treatment for at
least one skin cancer in their lifetime. Moreover, skin cancer
outnumbered all other forms of cancer in Australia by
approximately three to one.
The epidemic has inspired a national awareness campaign
in Australia, along with consumer-protection legislation. For
example, to discourage people from staying in the sun too
long, no sunscreen product can claim a sun protection factor
(SPF) of higher than 30. In addition, Australia was the first
country to legislate the UV protection claims of apparel, and
it also has the only mandatory sunglass standard in the world
What to Wear? 75
as well. As a result of these efforts, “mortality from skin can-

cer is steadily declining in Australia.”
In America, by contrast, between 1973 and 1992, mortal-
ity from melanoma increased 34 percent, the third highest
increase of all cancers. Unfortunately, writes Richard Eldich,
the U.S. media continues to promote tanning and sun
worship through a steady stream of imagery featuring
sun-bronzed heroes and heroines. With no legislation, little
education, and not much understanding about the seriousness

of sun disease, too many people fail to protect themselves
adequately. “This policy of silence by the U.S. government is
expensive, cost ineffective, and dangerous to our society.”25
It’s also a perfect example of fashion overruling the sound
advice that climate whispers in our ear. Just like overdressing
to the point of suffocation, wearing too few clothes to protect
ourselves from the sun’s radiation just doesn’t make much
sense.
And while we’re on the subject of nonsense, let’s take up
the matter of shoes.
According to medical statistics, colds, headaches, and vari-
ous forms of foot distress are the three most common health
complaints today. Three out of four Americans have some
sort of foot problem. Perhaps surprisingly, most of these pro-
blems are caused not by disease or aging, but by improper
footwear. Not surprisingly, the worst offenders are women’s
high-heeled shoes.
A recent Harvard Medical School study found that high
heels are the number-one cause of foot problems for women,
from bunions and hammer toes to knee arthritis. In the
United States women visit orthopedic foot specialists four
times more frequently than men and undergo 87 percent of
the operations to correct acquired foot deformities. “High
and narrow pointed shoes compress the toes, strain the fore-
foot, and transfer strain to the knees by keeping the ankle
from absorbing the impact of walking. Unless prevented,

these discomforts lead to infirmities needing correction.”26
Consumer Reports on Health adds to the indictment. “By
tipping a woman’s weight forward, high heels not only crowd
the toes but also put extra pressure on the balls of the feet.
That can cause calluses and inflamed joints. High heels can
also shorten the calf muscles and contribute to posture
problems.”
Admittedly, I cite high heels more as an example of the

tyranny of fashion than as an example of the conflict between
fashion and climate, but, then, women in high heels are not
the only people who suffer from foot problems. As this same
article notes, “In addition to squeezing or failing to protect
your feet, shoes can smother them, too. The 250,000 sweat
glands in your feet produce about two ounces of sweat a day.
That can create a warm, moist breeding ground for the bacte-
ria that cause infection and foot odor and for the fungi that
cause athlete’s foot.”27
This brings us back to our original schematic: animal-
based clothing (leather, wool, fur) in northern climates;
plant-based clothing (cotton, linen) in warmer climates. In
the same vein, heavy shoes — or boots — and socks are
appropriate for cold weather, but, moving south, shoes
should give way to sandals, then to thongs, then perhaps to
bare feet. It also brings us back to our central paradox: the
sometimes unhealthy influence of northern Europe (and
America) on the world’s clothing styles.
If you go to Singapore today, or to modernizing India,
you’ll find plenty of evidence of Westernization: suits and
ties, along with leather shoes with socks for 12 hours a day.
The podiatrists and dermatologists are having a field day, as
a recent study in India illustrates.
“Heat and humidity, combined with the multitude of
chemicals in shoe materials, make shoe dermatitis not
What to Wear? 77
uncommon in a tropical country like India,” according to

research published in Contact Dermatitis. Of 249 patients
tested over a four-year period, almost a third had a reaction
to either the leather of their shoes or to the potassium dichro-
mate dye used to color it reddish-brown. A contributing fac-
tor to the high incidence, according to the article, was the
wearing of socks during the summer and the rainy season.
Notably, not a single patient showed a reaction to locally
used vegetable tannins.28

Of course, the same thing is happening in hot climates all
over the world, as native people adopt Western clothing. As a
marketer, I see an opportunity here. Instead of selling expen-
sive leather shoes to people who shouldn’t be wearing them,
let’s create new lines of high-priced sandals. I also believe
savvy U.S. marketers are already playing this game here at
home. The plethora of shoe types now popular here —
sandals, athletic shoes, thongs — shows the shoe industry’s
awareness of the distribution of our population into all four
climatic zones.
OTHER HEALTH PROBLEMS
Foot dermatitis is far from the only problem that can come
from the adoption of Western clothing styles by non-
Westerners. The range of possible consequences is broad, as
the following examples demonstrate.
A study of university women in Nigeria looked at the rela-
tionship between wearing Western style, tight-fitting clothes
and the incidence of candida albicans (more commonly
known as vaginitis). Half of the 220 participants were
assigned to wear tight-fitting dresses, jeans, trousers, and silk
or nylon underwear, while the other half wore loose-fitting
dresses, gowns, and underwear “or any loose native attire.”
The test lasted two months, at the end of which the results
showed that two-thirds of the positives were from students
wearing the tight-fitting clothing. The study concluded that
“wearing of tight clothing coupled with nylon underwear cre-
ates more warmth and moisture in the vaginal and cervical
areas and leads to a more favorable environment for the
growth of this yeast.”29
Considerably more extreme is the case of the Yahgan, or

Yamana Indians of South America, the indigenous inhabi-
tants of the south coast of Tierra del Fuego. When first esti-
mated in the second half of the nineteenth century, the
Yahgan population stood at approximately 3000 individuals.
But in the 1880s, according to expert John M. Cooper in
Handbook of South American Indians, a sharp decline set in,
which by 1933 had reduced the number of the Yahgan to a
mere 40 people. The problem was that the Europeans had
arrived. “The immediate causes of the sudden drop in the
eighties,” writes Cooper, “were the respiratory diseases and a
severe outbreak of measles in 1884, followed by epidemics of
typhoid, whooping-cough, and smallpox…. Contributory, or
rather basic predisposing, factors were, it seems, the then
introduced European ways of life, especially the clothing….”
The Yahgan were coastal hunter-gatherers, who, despite a
harsh climate, had traditionally worn only a single garment
of animal skin, thrown like a cape over their shoulders. As
Cooper notes, “The clothing of the Yahgan seems to us
utterly inadequate, given the climatic conditions — tempera-
tures commonly around and well below freezing point in
winter, high winds, frequent snow, hail, sleet, and cold
rain — but in view of the seeming role played in their decline
by introduced European clothing and their relative good
health prior thereto, perhaps their clothing was reasonably
well adapted to the environment.”30
What to Wear? 79
It seems clear that the Yahgans’ immune system, which

had evolved in adaptation to the environment — including
both the climate and the material available for food and
clothing — was compromised by the arrival of European-
style pants, shirts, and coats, making these once-hardy people
susceptible to disease. As historian Adamson Hoebel writes,
“The introduction of tailored European clothing and other
elements was a cultural modification that so altered the total
environment of the Yahgans as to disturb disastrously the

biological balance between them and their physical world.
Inexorable extinction apparently stalks them.”31
Some people argue that an analogous catastrophe has
taken place in Hawaii, though interbreeding between native
Hawaiians and Europeans to some extent disguises what has
happened to the indigenous population. Here are the unset-
tling statistics: At the time of Captain Cook’s arrival in
Hawaii in 1778, he found a population of approximately
800,000 generally healthy and robust pure-blood native
Hawaiians. By the early 1800s, that number had decreased to
approximately 180,000; by the 1890s to 34,000; and by
1985 to 8134. On the other hand, the population of part-
blood native Hawaiians has increased from zero in 1778 to
approximately 176,000. If the immediate causes of this
decline are epidemics of infectious diseases (against which the
natives had no immunity), eroded nutrition, drug and alcohol
consumption, and smoking, the underlying cause is “rapid
social change in which indigenous people have become
disenfranchised in their own land.”32 In other words, the
displacement of an indigenous culture utterly attuned to its
Pacific-equatorial climate and geography by an alien
European one.
It isn’t possible to estimate what percentage of this decima-
tion is directly clothing related, but the insistence of Christian
missionaries on full European-style clothing, for both sexes,
must have had dire consequences. On the bodies of these

islanders, who were accustomed to near or complete nudity
the heavy fabrics of European clothing would have blocked
respiration, raised body temperature, trapped bacteria, and
caused chills when they were soaked with rain or sweat.
Throw in an environment altered by the introduction of a
variety of new European germs, and you have a recipe for
contagion.
No doubt other examples could be cited, for the pressure

to “Westernize” has fundamentally changed many cultures
around the globe, and Western clothing, as we’ve noted, is
perhaps the most visible symbol of Western society. Not
just business suits and neckties, but jeans, Nikes, t-shirts,
tuxedos — Western fashion is everywhere, regardless of
climatic approval.
CLIMATE’S COMEBACK?
What does the future hold? It’s difficult to imagine that in

our increasingly globalized and Westernized society the gods
of fashion will ever be kicked out of the pantheon. But per-
haps our growing appreciation of indigenous, non-Western
cultures — along with ethnic pride among those cultures —
will become a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps fashion will
have to accommodate a wider range, a “rainbow” of clothing
cultures. To the extent that that happens, to the extent that
people return to their clothing “traditions,” fashion and cli-
mate will be brought back into alignment.
Some see this already happening, especially among African
Americans. According to Black Collegian magazine, when
ethnic styles like dashikis and head wraps first appeared on
the fashion scene a few years ago, most assumed that they
were just fads that would last a season or two. The fashion
What to Wear? 81
industry agreed, and for the most part shunned “ethnic”

attire as an expression of radical militancy. But now the
industry is reaping huge profits from the increasing demand
for African-influenced styles and fabrics — demand that
comes largely from African-American students.
Growing numbers of these students are reaching back to
embrace their heritage, editorializes the magazine. “They are
not only studying their history, to get a deeper sense of self
and a truer understanding of African contributions to the

world, but they are also expressing their knowledge by wear-
ing fashionable attire inspired from ‘home’ — Africa.”33
According to Tunde Dada, proprietor of Tunde Dada’s
House of Africa in Orange, New Jersey, “African-Americans
in this country are demanding products that reflect their own
culture. We’ve been starved for information about ourselves
for so long.”34 Like most everyone in this discussion, Dada
talks about “culture.” Our point, of course, is that culture is
a function of climate.
And then there is the “utilikilt,” a contemporary take on
the traditional Scottish garb. Sort of like a carpenter’s tool
belt, it’s made of heavy canvas, falls to the knee, and has
pleats all around. Produced by a small company in Seattle
(whose climate, incidentally, is not too different from
Scotland’s), the seemingly odd garment has been selling like
crazy, via the Internet and word of mouth. According to US.
News and World Report, a recent gathering of Washington,
DC, utilikiltarians included a tattoo artist, a tour guide, a
computer jock, and an armored-car guard. Former Marine
Bill Johnson succinctly explained the utilikilt’s appeal: “I like
it, it’s comfortable, and I look damn good in it.”35
Does the utilikilt suggest that sensible, comfortable,
“climate-controlled” clothing will make a comeback?
Picturing men in skirts seems silly — but not as silly as the
necktie.
NOTES
1. Claiborne (1970).
2. Beals and Hoijer (1965).
3. Jaroff and Rademaekers (1992, Oct 26).
4. Tully (2004, Mar).
5. McCartney and Veltre (1999, Feb).

6. Hadlow (1952).
7. Garrett (1994).
8. Garrett, pp. 191 196.
9. Garrett, pp. 199 201.
10. Hadlow, p. 278.
11. Diamond (1997, 1999).
12. Wilkie and Morelli (1991, Oct).
13. Stairs (2002, Summer).
14. Bentley and Horstmeyer (2004, Jan Feb).
15. Garrett, p. 31.
16. Hurlock (1965).
17. Lurie (1991, Spring).
18. Malenic (2000, June).
19. Hanis (2002, Spring).
20. Kleiner (1999, Aug 16).
21. Saporito (1993, Sept).
22. Bing (2004, Feb).
What to Wear? 83
23. Lamb (1988).

24. Fanell-Beck and Callan-Noble (1998).
25. Edlich et al. (2004).
26. Consumer Research Magazine (1998, p. 41).
27. Consumer Reports on Health (1992, pp. 4 5).
28. Bajaj, Gupta, Chatterjee, and Sing (1991, Feb).
29. Elegbe and Botu (1982, Feb).

30. Cooper (1963).
31. Hoebel (1965).
32. Mokuau (1990, Aug).
33. Wilson (1994, Mar Apr).
34. Hunter-Gadsden (1993, May).
35. Hayden (2003, May 5).

THREE
A ROOF OVERHEAD
Again, we may begin with a statement of the obvious: that

shelter, like food and clothing, has historically been deter-
mined by climate, and by the natural resources that climate
makes available.
In northern Europe, for example, the forests and moun-
tains provide stone and wood for home-building. In dryer,
warmer climates, clay and brick predominate. Where the
weather is hot and wet, reeds and grasses — especially
bamboo — serve as building materials. And in the polar
reaches, beyond the tree line, ice itself does the job.
Other architectural generalizations come to mind. Roofs
tend to be steeply pitched in cold climates so that snow will
slide off rather than collapse the structure. On the villas of
southern Europe, by contrast, the flat roofs slope only
enough for rain to run off. We note, too, that in colder cli-
mates indoors and outdoors are separated. People live
indoors, and except for planned activities — maybe a hunting
or fishing trip, in memory of their ancient ancestors — they
stay out of the weather. The architecture of warm climates
reflects a different pattern of living. Homes are often
85
organized around a courtyard or portico, where much of

daily life is centered.
We will look at a number of examples of climate-shaped
shelter, from a variety of very different environments. But
first let’s think about the houses of today. It may be said,
I think, that even more than in the cases of food and clothing,
in the case of shelter, technology has allowed us to ignore the
dictates of climate. For example, we put on clothes to go
outside, into the real environment, whatever it might be, and

so our clothing must at a fundamental level respond to
the weather. But we count on our houses to create an artifi-
cial environment in which we are always comfortable.
Double-paned windows, weather-stripping, central heat and
air-conditioning — these technologies keep us out of the
“elements” and, in theory at least, make us the masters of
our own space.
As architectural historian Leland Roth puts it, “Especially
after the development of effective heating, ventilation, and
air-conditioning equipment about the turn of the century,
architects in the industrialized West stopped thinking about
such concerns as sun exposure, wind patterns, and prevailing
temperature because they felt confident that, given enough
equipment, they could overcome any difficulty. Buildings by
so-called primitive peoples almost invariably reveal subtle
and sophisticated responses to the environment.”1
Over the past couple of decades, not only anthropologists
and cultural historians but also architects have been taking a
close look at the building practices of these “primitive”
people, at what we might call pretechnological shelter. They
find it interesting. They’ve even come up with a term for it:
“vernacular” — meaning local, native, or indigenous. One of
the most interesting characteristics of a vernacular structure
is that it is built not by specialists but by the people who will
live in it, the people who know exactly what they need.
A Roof Overhead 87
Another interesting thing is that we’re not talking about

Stone Age housing here; millions of peoples across the globe
still build their own dwellings, according to centuries-old
traditions. A third, most essential characteristic, as Roth
suggests, is that vernacular dwellings have evolved in direct
response to climate.
Among the anthropologists working in the field of vernac-
ular architecture, one of the most prominent is Paul Oliver,
editor of the three-volume Encyclopedia of Vernacular

Architecture of the World. Among his own books are Shelter
in Society, Shelter, Sign & Symbol, and, especially useful
here, Dwellings: the House across the World. We’ll have the
help of other experts, as well, but Oliver will be our primary
guide on this journey through some of the world’s most
remarkable living quarters.
Now let’s consider some examples.
TEMPORARY SHELTERS IN HARSH CLIMATES
As we’ve seen in previous chapters, the Eskimo, or Inuit,

populations of Alaska, upper Canada, and Greenland pro-
vide a spectacular example of life in a harsh climate. In fact,
research now shows that Eskimos, in response to chronic
exposure to extreme cold, have evolved hand blood-flow
twice that of whites from temperate climates — more evi-
dence of our contention that genetic programming itself
responds to climate.
With little else to work with, Eskimos contrived to build
their houses out of snow.
But not just any snow. They figured out that blocks cut
from a snow-drift that had been built up from several falls
were inclined to shear, so they looked for drifts from a single
fall. How did they know? They tested the consistency of the
snow with a caribou antler probe. If they found what they

were looking for, they cleared away the top snow with a hide
snow shovel, then cut or sawed the drift into blocks with an
ivory snow-knife.
Interestingly, the igloo (or, more properly, iglu) was built
of one continuous spiral of blocks, each one slightly over-
hanging the one below it in order to form its characteristic
domical shape. When the vaulted dome was complete, it was
time to cut the entrance.

Sometimes this took the form of a tunnel, which doubled
as a storage area, but in any case the entry-way was cut lower
than the internal floor level in order to trap cold air and keep
it from coming inside. In the absence of a variety of building
materials, the iglu was not elaborately furnished. Inside was a
platform, also made of snow, two or three feet high, which
served as the living and sleeping area. If it sounds cramped,
let’s keep in mind that some were as much as 12 feet high
and 30 feet across.
Sometimes, for additional insulation, the Inuit lined the
interior of their houses with caribou hides. “With blubber
lamps and body heat,” writes Oliver, “it was possible for the
internal temperature to be raised to 60°F (15.5°C) or more
when the outside temperature was down to 40°F ( 4.4°C).”
This interior insulation had the additional advantage of trap-
ping a layer of cold air between the hide and the inner ice
wall, which prevented the snow from melting as the inside of
the iglu warmed up.
In some regions, additional building materials were avail-
able. The Alaskan Nunamiut Eskimos started with a frame-
work of willow wands, which they covered over with snow.
Then they brought heated stones inside to anneal the snow
into a shell. In an earlier era, the iglu frame was fashioned of
whalebone. Other Alaskan Eskimos had even more to work
with. Some coastal dwellers were able to frame their houses
A Roof Overhead 89
from driftwood they collected, and then pack the frame with
sod. Regardless, the interior snow platform, the narrow and
low entrance passage, and windows covered with translucent
gut-skin were common to nearly all types.
For hunter-gatherers, of course, the very impermanence of
the dwelling is a virtue. When the snow melted during the
short summer and their hunts could range further, they made
tents — a frame of willow or antler, covered by caribou hide
or seal skin.
“What can be learned from the example of Eskimo shelter
types?” asks Oliver. “It is evident that in a region where nat-
ural organic materials in the form of timber and grasses are
virtually non-existent, and where suitable structural members
may only be obtained from sea creatures such as whale or
seal, great inventiveness was required to devise and adapt
existing resources to become building material …. Survival in
polar regions would not be possible for extended periods
without effective means of shelter that would insulate a fam-
ily against the rigors of extreme cold, and exposure to winds,
fogs and precipitation. Climate, therefore, is a major factor in
the development of building types.”2
Another nomadic people adapting to an inhospitable cli-
mate are the San — popularly known as the “Bushmen” —
of the Kalahari of Namibia and Botswana in southern Africa.
The Kalahari is a desert, but not quite as barren as the ice
fields of the polar region. To provide building materials, the
San have scrub plains, thin grasslands, and, in some places,
forests of mongongo. But like the Eskimo, the San move
often in search of game, and their dwellings are similarly
impermanent.
“Bushmen” is an appropriate name. From even a short
distance away, their shelters, or kuas, melt into the surround-
ing landscape. Around the periphery of the common cleared
area, they are set back into the tall grass bordering the site,
and sometimes even use the cover of leaves and branches of a

living bush. During the rainy season, when they move more
often, the San can build their short-term huts in an hour by
weaving together branches, wands, and grasses. But the kuas
meant to last through the dry season are more elaborate con-
structions. A frame is erected of a circle of thin peeled sticks,
perhaps six feet in diameter, and the top ends are tied
together with the bark of saplings to provide a pointed dome.
Then horizontal wands are woven into the frame, onto which
bundles of grass are tied to create a thatch covering. After the
men clear the area and insert the framing poles, the women
take over. Before the day is over, they will have completed a
structure that should last, with little maintenance, for three
months.
From Morocco and Algeria in northern Africa, across the
Middle East, and on to the highlands of Tibet, stretch the
“black tents” of the pastoral nomads, yet another people on
the move in a harsh climate. The difference here is that these
herding people produce their own building material — in the
form of goat hair, which the women weave into strips of
cloth that are then sewn together into one big piece.
The heavy cloth is strung over poles and held tight by grey
ropes — and the “house” is done.
While it might seem to us that black would be the worst
possible color, in that it would absorb the sun’s rays and turn
the tent’s interior into an oven, what happens, actually, is
that the dark cloth casts a dense shade and insulates against
radiation heat. What’s more, the natural oils in the goat hair
are not washed out by dying. This means that, when it’s dry,
the open weave allows for air circulation, but when it gets
wet, the cloth contracts tightly to form a waterproof shield.
In areas like Morocco, with rain and even snow, the tent’s
ridge pole is high and the pitch is steep, but in dryer areas the
pitch of the tent is flatter.
A Roof Overhead 91
The situation is somewhat different with another tent-

dwelling people, the Tuareg of the Central Sahara. They also
have goats, but they don’t weave. Consequently, their tents
are covered by goat hides sewn together, rather than goat
wool. Here climate and culture coincide. A new Tuareg bride
is expected to bring to the marriage the tent cover and poles,
along with the bed frame, and ehen, the word for wedding, is
also the word for tent.
In the shade of his tent, with the sides open for ventilation,
the Tuareg manages to endure daytime desert temperatures
as high as 122°F. At night, with the flaps down, he stays
comfortable in frosty or, in the highlands, even in snowy con-
ditions. His biggest problem is when he has to close the sides
of the tent during the day to protect against desert winds and
sandstorms. His solution is to screen his tent with woven
grass or build stone walls for windbreaks.3
Here in North America, nomadic dwelling types are well-
represented by the tepees (or tipis) of the Plains’ Indians —
the familiar conical structure fashioned from cedar or pine
poles, covered tightly in buffalo hides. Leland Roth points
out that “the tipi was an aerodynamic shape positioned to
give least resistance to prevailing winds, and with flaps which
could be easily repositioned to correspond to shifts in wind
direction to maintain an upward draft through the tent to
carry off smoke.” For additional protection from the ele-
ments, clusters of tipis were usually set up on the lee side of
low hills or against a stand of trees. Sometimes, an inner lin-
ing of hides was combined with the outer to form “double
insulation,” with the result that these simple shelters could be
comfortable in winter as well as in summer.4
The tents and shelters of the nomads may seem less than
appealing to industrialized Westerners, but anthropologists
today are at pains to emphasize how climatically suitable and
effective they are. Part of this, as we noted, is their very
impermanence. A tent can be easily pitched to exploit the

prevailing conditions, whether under a tree for shade or
on the lee of a hill for shelter from the wind. And the
structures themselves, not just their sittings, are climate-
flexible. Tent walls can be raised or lowered, or one opening
in a brush shelter can be blocked and another created
(Fig. 3.1).
Adaptability and ingenuity are at the heart of these nomad

dwellings. Oliver laments that the remaining nomadic peoples
must eventually abandon their pastoral hunting or food-
gathering ways of life on the margins of the habitable world.
“Under the pressures of environmental deterioration and
political change,” he writes, “they may be obliged to adopt a
sedentary life. If so, their exceptional survival skills, and their
traditional building techniques using immediate resources for
their portable dwellings, will soon be forgotten in the pro-
cesses of adaptation to alien patterns of living and unfamiliar
house types.”5
Fig. 3.1. The Shelter and Dwelling Differences r 2016

A Roof Overhead 93
STONE + TIMBER = PERMANENCE
From houses that might last a season, let’s move to some that
have lasted centuries. One place we’ll find them is in Bavaria,
in southeastern Germany, on the border of the Austrian Alps.
It’s a serene landscape of soft hills, lakes, waterways, forests,
and fields.
The climate is what we might call northern-temperate,
with summer days that are warm, but seldom hot, and often
rainy. Winters bring plenty of wet snow, with temperatures
generally between 20 and 45°F, along with a few extremely
cold and windy days. It’s a favorable climate for raising ani-
mals, which in turn determines building practices. Since the
harsh winters meant that animals, too, had to be sheltered,
the Bavarian farmhouse had its work cut out for it.
As anthropologists Georg Jell and Sabine Jell-Bahlsen
observe, “The farm house’s construction and choice of mate-
rials, as well as its layout, have been following a deep sense
of ecology and sustainability for centuries, sheltering people,
animals, food, and fodder all under one roof.”
Underneath its low-pitched gabled roof, the front part of
the house, always facing east, houses the people. The west-
facing rear houses the animals. The two sections are sepa-
rated by a thick, fire-resistant wall of stone or brick to protect
against fires that might start in the hayloft above the animals.
The living quarters on the first floor are generally brick or
stone, plastered on the inside with lath and clay. The second
story, used for drying grain and storing produce, is built of
heavy timber logs resting on the two-foot thick stone walls of
the ground floor. Hand-hewn and dovetailed eave beams and
the prominently carved ridge beam support a low-pitch roof
with lots of overhang for shading and shelter during the
warm days of summer.
Jell and Jell-Bahlsen emphasize that in the construction of

these remarkably durable edifices, all the materials came from
what was locally available, processed, and crafted by the
local people. A centuries-old knowledge of the local climate
and ecology, they write, has guided these people in the wise
harvest and natural preservation of construction materials
like timber, brick, and lime. “Rural artisans have developed
sustainable technologies in building construction and handed
this knowledge down over generations.”

But, inevitably, change is coming to beautiful Bavaria. As
in so many parts of the world, city-dwellers are hankering
after “the country life,” and Bavarian villages are becoming
suburbs. Land prices are skyrocketing, and the children who
don’t inherit the farm can no longer afford to buy property
nearby. Nonfarm jobs now need to be created, and local
communities are turning to tourism and other business
expansion to meet this end. “This development,” write Jell
and Jell-Bahlsen, “is contributing even more to an accelerated
destruction of Bavaria’s natural environment and unique cul-
tural landscape.”6 In other words, the time-tested stone-and-
timber houses of Bavaria may not disappear; they’ll simply be
turned into bed-and-breakfast establishments.
At least equal in durability to the farmhouses of Bavaria
are the so-called “longhouses” of the moors of southwest
England. Here the favored house-building material rises out
of the ground in the form of rounded boulders and granite
outcroppings. The longhouses in Houndtor, for example,
date from the ninth century. They were one-storied buildings
whose walls were constructed of granite boulders cleaved
into huge blocks. The roofs had frames of timber (which had
to be brought by wagon into this treeless environment), cov-
ered in thick thatch. Like the Bavarian farmhouse, the long-
house sheltered both people and animals: people on the
“uphill” end, animals on the lower.
A Roof Overhead 95
In the similarly ancient Swiss Alpine village of Torbel,

wood rather than granite becomes the primary building mate-
rial. Like most log houses everywhere, Torbel’s were built of
horizontally-laid notched timbers, with local slate roofs.
“Because of their sturdy construction and the steady state of
the settlement,” writes Oliver, “many of them remained in
use for centuries and are still in use.”7
More generally, timber houses proliferate where the trees
are abundant, especially in the coniferous forests of Canada,

the northern Pacific coast of North America, central and
northern Europe, and from northern Russia to the Bering
Sea. As Oliver notes, since they make use of “the insulating
and defensive advantages of solid wooden walls, it is not sur-
prising to find that timber-walling methods are to be found in
countries that are heavily forested, often mountainous, and
with low temperatures.”8
Older than any house, however, are the cave dwellings
that sheltered our early ancestors. That’s no surprise. But
what may be surprising is the number of people who still live
in caves today. One troglodyte (i.e., “cave-dweller”) village
can be found in Almanzora in southern Spain, where the rock
faces of the low, craggy hills look like a honeycomb. Behind
the rock walls, the rooms have been “peck-carved” back to
claim more space, and the ceilings are often barrel-vaulted so
that they are less likely to collapse. Many of these dwellings
are two stories high, with lime-washed exteriors that
announce ownership. Just 60 miles away in Guadix, Spain, a
cluster of villages cut into the slopes of the Sierra Nevada
houses more than 12,000 people.
An even more spectacular example of adaptation to the
natural environment comes from the Yangtze River in China,
where millions of people inhabit cave dwellings. Here the
“building” material is not stone, but rather earth — the thick,
hard loess deposits along the river’s banks. In Shensi, in
north-central China, the men first level a vertical plane for a

facade, then cut an entrance doorway back to wall thickness.
With the front wall thus defined, the interior is opened out to
form a room that might be 20-feet deep, 10-feet wide, and
10-feet high. Once the doorway has been enlarged and a
front window cut, the interior is then be plastered with loess
mud. Oliver approximates that such a dwelling would typi-
cally take forty man-days to complete, but that once it dried
out it would make a sound home for two or three

generations.9
THE WONDERS OF MUD
For a powerful example of the extent to which climate shapes

building materials, consider the fact that throughout Africa,
Central and South America, much of India, China, Southeast
Asia, and southern Europe, the principal building material
is mud.
The acidic soils underneath the fir forests of northern
Europe, Russia, and Canada won’t work, but over much of
the rest of the planet, especially where the weather is hot,
sun-dried mud is surprisingly useful. Desert soils, which
include sand and broken rock, make some of the best mud
bricks, as does the red laterite soil of India, Africa, and South
America. The iron-rich laterites, which form in tropical
regions by the decomposition of underlying rocks, are partic-
ularly good because when they dry out they take on a hard,
rock-like crust. Of course, the essential wonder of mud is that
before it dries it is malleable; the builder can shape it by
hand, which can’t be said for many other building materials.
For construction purposes, we typically think of mud
being shaped into bricks. The Gurunsi peoples of the West
African savanna had a different idea. Once the proper
A Roof Overhead 97
mixture of mud and chopped straw has been left to cure for a
few days, it is then molded into balls. Somewhat like the
Eskimo iglu builder, the Gurunsi mason presses these mud
balls together in one long spiral sequence, compacting them
as he goes. The roof is also mud, plastered thickly over a
layer of cross-sticks. For a final coat of weather protection,
the exterior is treated with a mixture of cattle dung and oil,
with juice from the fruit pod of the locust bean blended in.10
Elsewhere in desert regions in western Africa, mud balls

have given way to adobe, or mud brick construction. In fact,
anthropologists like Jean-Louis Bourgeois and Carollee Pelos
are now singing hymns of praise for these remarkable indige-
nous structures. “Until recently the deserts and savanna of
West Africa were thought to be architecturally barren.
Western standards were such that the only structures consid-
ered viable and praiseworthy were ‘high style’ monuments
and buildings constructed from ‘permanent’ materials. But
contemporary taste has recognized the value and importance
of sun-dried mud.”
Part of the appeal for these scholars, as for the others
we’ve looked at, is that “traditional desert structures are
designed, built, decorated and maintained by ordinary people
rather than by specialists.” The men raise their own
walls, the women often do the finish-work of plastering.
Maintenance is a simple matter of replastering — “a dry-
season activity during which swirling hands, applying new
mud like balm on weathered skin, heal the erosion of annual
rains.”
In what Bourgeois and Pelos describe as a “climatic
inferno,” where stone is rare and wood too scarce to fire
kilns, remarkable things are wrought in sun-dried mud
bricks. They cite the Great Mosque of Djenne, near the
Sahara’s southern edge in Mali, a monument built in 1907.
“Until recently, it was thought to have been the work of a
French colonial administration. Now it has been established

that the adobe structure was designed and built by Africans,
an example of black pride deserving wide notice in multicul-
tural education.”
These anthropologists are happy to see across their profes-
sion a growing respect and gratitude “for beauty that yester-
day we ignored.” But this “desert vernacular,” they say, is
much more than lovely. “It is also practical and ethical. With
minimal means, it shelters against nature without abusing

her. Spiritually starved by the impersonal purities of modern
architecture, many people are grateful to find in traditional
desert buildings the grace and splendor of the human touch.
Long neglected, traditional West African adobe is at last find-
ing its metaphorical, as well as physical, place in the sun.”11
Not that you have to go to the Sahara to appreciate adobe
architecture. The use of mud bricks is widespread in the
Middle East, North Africa, southern Europe, and in the
Americas. Desert soils, with their high sand content, and des-
ert climates, hot and arid, combine to favor mud brick con-
struction. In the dry regions of the Middle and Near East, for
example, the climate is marked by low humidity, little rain
(which comes all in a few weeks), bright skies and intense
solar radiation. Hot seasonal winds blow, but the low humid-
ity means that sweat evaporates quickly.
As Oliver notes, “This climate exerts powerful constraints
on building.” The first priority is defense against solar radia-
tion. Houses are clustered close together, with individual
buildings oriented so as to expose as little as possible of their
external surfaces to the intensity of the sun. Flat roofs are
constructed of several layers of pole, mats, and palm fronds
and covered with a thick topcoat of mud so that the heat is
only slowly transferred to the interior. Dense, thick walls of
mud brick — or stone, if available — also help repel the heat.
A Roof Overhead 99
The clustering of one house close to another creates shadows

over passage-ways and on the walls of adjacent buildings.
Another climatically critical feature of such housing is the
courtyard, onto which the house almost invariably opens.
The way the courtyard works to collect and disperse heat is
an impressive example of pretechnology climate control. By
noon the sun has reached the courtyard floor, but the thick-
ness of the walls and the adjacent buildings prevents excessive
solar heating. At the same time, the cool air in the rooms is
drawn into the courtyard, creating convection currents as it
warms up. As the sun sets and the temperature drops, these
air currents continue to circulate and filter through to the
rooms, cooling them until the following afternoon. At night,
the courtyard floor and the flat roof radiate the heat they’ve
collected during the day, which makes them comfortable for
sleeping in the summer. In the winter, though, the rooms are
closed, and the heat stored in the walls effectively reheats them.
Where extra protection from the sun’s intensity was
needed, the most economical solution was painting the walls
with a reflective coating mixed up from chalk or quicklime.
We see this today in the habitual whitewashing of walls in
postcard-popular Greek island villages.12
In Egypt, the blending of inside and outside typical of hot
climates was expressed not just in the courtyard, but also in
the rooftop terrace and the columned portico, which always
faced north to take advantage of the prevailing cool northerly
breeze. The portico offered shade from the relentless daytime
sun and the terrace provided open-air sleeping quarters.
Some terraces even had ventilators with north-facing intake
channels that conveyed cool night air to the rooms below. As
anthropologist Alexander Badawy points out, all this was
possible thanks to Egypt’s “exceptionally dry climate [which]
permitted the use of a very cheap building material, sun-dried
brick set with mud mortar and plaster.”13
The problem — constant exposure to the sun — was the

same in the American Southwest. As Leland Roth explains,
“[A] roof in Albuquerque, New Mexico, at 35° latitude, mea-
suring 10 feet to a side receives enough energy each day to
raise the temperature of four tons of water from 66°F to
100°F. It is a significant amount of heat.” Some Southwest
Americans, like the Anasazi 900 years ago, solved the pro-
blems by retreating into the caves at Mesa Verde, in south-
western Colorado. But another alternative, says Roth, “is to

put a large mass of material between the dwelling space and
the sun so that the mass slows down the absorption of heat,
just as the thick mud brick walls and roofs of adobe construc-
tion do.” The efficiency of adobe is remarkable. When the
afternoon temperature reaches 140°F on the surface of the
roof, the internal temperature of the room is 80°F, from
which point it rises to a high of 85° at nine o’clock. When the
outside temperature plummets to 60° at two o’clock in the
morning, the room temp will ease down from 80° to a low of
75° at daybreak. In traditional adobe construction, notes
Roth, the windows and doors were small to prevent hot
drafts from disturbing the cool temperatures inside.”14
A classic example of Southwestern adobe still in existence
is Taos Pueblo, in Taos, New Mexico. The pueblo’s house
walls are of sun-dried brick, ranging from 2-feet thick at the
bottom to about 1-foot thick at the top. Upper rooms, where
the living quarters are located, are recessed so that the roofs
of the lower units form terraces for those above. The inner-
most rooms, least open to fresh air, were used for storage of
grain.
“It is a massive system of construction,” writes Roth, “but
one well suited to the rigors of the climate, for the thick struc-
ture, whether stone or adobe, absorbs the midday heat and
during the night slowly suffuses heat to the rooms within so
that the internal temperature remains relatively constant over
A Roof Overhead 101
a range of about ten degrees Fahrenheit, while the outside

temperature varies over more than forty degrees.”15
HOUSE-BUILDING IN THE TROPICS: BAMBOO,

REEDS, GRASSES, POLES
In the tropical climate of the equator, the well-watered volca-

nic and alluvial soils of the Ecuadorian coastal lowlands and

the Cauca Valley in Colombia have produced yet another of
the world’s great natural building materials — endless stands
of giant bamboo, with stalks, or “culms,” as thick as a man’s
thigh. For at least 5000 years, and still today, “guadua,” as
the natives call it, has remained the standard material for
building traditional rural houses.
One reason for its popularity is that it grows incredibly
fast in the warm, wet weather, typically spurting up several
inches in a single day. The culms quickly attain their maxi-
mum diameter of about 6 to 8 inches and reach their full
height — as much as 75 feet — in 80 to a 100 days. During
their period of rapid growth, the green stalks are soft and
easy to cut, but they gradually harden as they yellow and die.
When cultivated for sustained yield, the bamboo has a
harvesting cycle of three to five years — compared to the
15-to-20-year cycle of pine, for example. According to the
local lore, guadua harvested early in the morning during a
waning moon will have maximum resistance to insect damage.
Traditionally, guadua served an astounding range of pur-
poses: it was used to build not only houses but the defensive
palisades around them, as well as to construct aqueducts,
bridges, fences, river rafts, and an infinite variety of house-
hold utensils and furniture, including weapons and knives.
The young shoots were a foodstuff. The severed heads of ene-
mies were handsomely displayed on sharpened guadua poles.
And hollow tubes of guadua were even used to funnel chichi

beer down into the tombs of the honored dead.
While some of these ancient practices have died out, the
bamboo is still widely used in rural housing, and it’s easy to
see why. As anthropologist J. J. Parsons points out, “Hand-
harvested by machete and then transported by mule, truck,
or balsa raft from readily accessible growing areas, guadua
involves none of the costs of conventional logging and milling
of lumber or of cement or steel reinforcement.” In addition to

these advantages, high tensile strength and resistance to com-
pression make the giant bamboo ideal for building. If that’s
not enough, guadua structures are also easy to maintain and
adaptable to steep building sites and wetlands.
For siding, green bamboo culms are split lengthwise at sev-
eral points on each node so they can be flattened out into
unfinished, board like planks about 8 10 inches wide.
Ultimately, the bamboo walls will be coated with mud and
whitewashed. But the siding is far from the only house part
that comes from the guadua. The plant also supplies the sup-
port poles, tie beams, roof trusses, rafters, and struts. In
Ecuador, many of the houses stand on high bamboo stilts,
with a bamboo ladder to reach a floor as much as 6 feet
above the ground. This arrangement not only avoids flood-
ing, but also improves air circulation and makes for a less
humid interior.
Like the other vernacular structures we’ve looked at, these
guadua houses are typically owner-built, with little or no out-
side professional assistance. Amazingly, the simple machete,
skillfully used to cut the bamboo and to carve out the joint
fittings, might be the only tool needed. And like those
other structures, bamboo houses are uniquely suited to the
environment. Though they might appear unstable, they are
remarkably resilient against the frequent earthquakes that
characterize this part of the continent.
A Roof Overhead 103
In urban environments, unfortunately, guadua’s image has

been tarnished. It has come to be seen, writes Parsons, “more
and more as the poor man’s lumber, the commonplace build-
ing material that campesinos live with throughout their
lifetimes.
There has been a subconscious tendency, especially among
city folks, to reject this inexpensive and versatile cane as
something associated with poverty, marginality, and lower-
class status.” As is often the fate of the vernacular, guadua

has come to be a synonym for the commonplace, an impedi-
ment to progress, and unsuitable for modern systems of con-
struction. Moreover, says Parsons, when guadua was allowed
to be used in a few public-housing projects, the designs and
construction were so inappropriate that the material’s reputa-
tion was even further tarnished. Consequently, “foreign-aid
agencies like the Agency for International Development (AID)
or the World Bank have generally favored endless rows of
brick or concrete-block houses or apartments, which lack
both comfort and aesthetic appeal, over the more practical
and traditional ones of guadua.”
But the pendulum may be swinging back, as planners and
architects are rediscovering guadua’s essential value as a low-
cost, easily accessible building material. After all, writes
Parsons, this “unpretentious folk housing, reflecting local tra-
dition and cultural inheritance, promises a practical and eco-
nomical way to meet the staggering urban-housing deficit in
the regions of Colombia and Ecuador where guadua is most
abundant.”16
Also in the equatorial tropics, but a continent away, the
half million inhabitants of the slopes and pastures of Western
Cameroon also build their houses of bamboo. Oddly, these
people have become proficient at prefabrication, assembling
the walls and even the roofs of their houses on the ground
before erecting them. But bamboo is not the only sturdy plant
material available for indigenous home construction in equa-

torial Africa.
The Kipsigis of southwest Kenya traditionally used ter-
mite-resistant cedar or acacia thorn to fashion their ingenious
“cone-and-cylinder” houses. Unlike the guadua houses with
their horizontal siding, the Kipsigis house was made of a ring
of posts, all upright, daubed with mud. Once the building site
was cleared and leveled, these posts were driven some 18

inches into the ground, deep enough to stand firm, then laced
tightly together with lianas. Next, inside the ring of posts,
long slender poles were bent double, their arches converging
at the center overhead to support a thatch roof.
But when the exterior structure was complete, the house
was far from finished. More wood had to be gathered for
internal partitions, beds, and bed screens. Oliver records that
as many as 800 sticks and poles might be used in the building
of one large dwelling. The men carried the heavier poles and
did most of the construction while the women gathered the
smaller sticks and long thatching grass that would be used to
make the roof. But even then the house wasn’t finished: The
walls still had to be plastered by the girls with a mixture of
cattle dung and mud, and later to be decorated. Finally, the
fire stones had to be put into place and the house had to be
smoked to prevent the roof leaves from rotting.17
Just south of the equator, on the South Pacific island of
Vaitupu, the principal building material is the pandanus
palm. Islanders frame their houses with six or eight sturdy
pandanus posts, deeply bedded in the soil, one at each corner
and the others at 6-foot intervals on the sides. These posts
were forked or notched to hold horizontal logs of the same
plant, secured by lashings made from sennit. The roof is con-
structed of carefully layered, overlapping pandanus leaves.
On the other side of the world, the Mayans in the Yucatan
A Roof Overhead 105
build their houses from posts of the oxcitinche, one of the

Yucatan hardwoods most resistant to rot.
Where hardwoods are not available for house construc-
tion, softer ones will have to do. Water- or marsh-growing
reeds with strong, straight stems are used at least for tempo-
rary shelters in some parts of Africa, India, and Bangladesh.
In the vast marshlands between the Tigris and Euphrates
north of Basra in Iraq, the qasab reed, growing to over
20-feet in height, provides the basic building material of the

Ma’dan, whose tribes inhabit the marsh’s 6000 square miles.
Sometimes on dry land and sometimes in the marsh itself,
layers of reeds and mud are packed on top of one another to
form a firm, dry base, or dibir. Long reeds are cut and bun-
dled together, then bent toward each other from each side,
where the tops are lashed together to form an inverted
u-shaped substructure. The whole thing is then covered with
large mats woven from split qasab stalks, sometimes in three
or four layers.
“Tending their herds of water buffalo, raising cereal crops
of rice, making reed mats for sale in the markets of Basra, the
Marsh Arabs have maintained a way of life that has lasted
millennia,” writes Oliver, at the same time noting that this
traditional way of life is now threatened by the Middle
Eastern conflict as well as by plans to drain the marshes.
“The sitras, or winter shelters for their buffalo, the raba, part
dwelling, part guest-house, the merchants’ houses and other
temporary or permanent structures of the marshes are among
the most striking examples of ingenuity and skill in building
developed in the face of the severest limitations of
resources.”18
In Mexico, the widely varying geography has produced an
equally wide variety of indigenous house styles and building
materials — palm, wood, stone, and, of course, adobe. But if
the reed houses of the Ma’dan are remarkable, so are the
agave houses of Hildago in central Mexico. Agave, or

maguey, as the natives call it, looks like a huge aloe plant,
and traditionally the broad spikes were strung up on rods
(made from agave stalks) in overlapping horizontal rows to
form the house’s exterior.
But like the house of qasab reed, the agave house is endan-
gered. Says Maria Cruz Angela Ramirez, who lives in a vil-
lage in Hildago: “In this region, which is hot and dry, we
used to build our houses from maguey spikes. They would

last twenty years or more, and the interiors were always cool.
But few people today want to live in such houses.
Mine is the only one left in this place. Over there, as you
can see, my son has built a modern house. He went to work
in the USA, and when he came back he made his house with
walls of breezeblock and a roof of lamina [corrugated sheet-
metal]. I live there with him, but when the sun beats down on
the roof we feel hot and uncomfortable. That is why I keep
my old house. I use it to cook in, and it is always cool. Yet
no one likes these houses any more. Everyone here remem-
bers how to build them, but I do not think that any more will
be built.”
Chloe Sayer is another anthropologist troubled by the
slow disappearance of the vernacular. Mexico’s once-isolated
villages have become aware of city fashions, she says,
and “backward” customs like home-woven garments and
thatched houses are a source of embarrassment. “This same
trend towards standardization has overtaken most countries
in the world,” Sayer writes, “yet it will be a sad reflection on
‘progress’ if ancient house-building techniques are lost to
future generations.” She hopes that Mexico will quickly
establish a museum of vernacular architecture, “while she is
fortunate enough to have rural builders who know how to
live in harmony with the natural environment, and who still
possess the wisdom and practical skills of their ancestors.”19
A Roof Overhead 107
SO WHAT?
We’ve seen several examples of such lamentation on the part

of anthropologists and architectural historians. Another
comes from Elizabeth Kubany, commenting on America’s
“glorious history of residential vernacular architecture” —
its log cabins, cottages, farmhouses, tepees, and pueblo
villages — “all anonymously constructed using traditional
materials and forms.” But we have turned our backs on this

tradition, she writes. “Today, suburban sprawl characterizes
residential architecture in the United States. Tract housing
and McMansions, which have become so prevalent, are
remarkable only for their sameness. This is the cookie-cutter
approach to housing; no matter where these homes are in the
country, their forms are unaffected by difference in local
topography, climate, and materials.”20
The affluent Westerner, safe behind the walls of his gated
community, might be inclined to ask, “So what do you want
me to do? Live in a reed hut? Why can’t I enjoy all the tech-
nological improvements and material comforts that my
money can buy?” There are two answers to this question.
The first asks for a larger perspective. It asks the Western
homeowner to consider not what this loss of vernacular tradi-
tions is doing to him, but what it’s doing to the people who
are losing those traditions.
Paul Oliver offers a look at what has happened to Inuit
culture over the past 40 years, as “rifle, skidoo (motorized
sledge), and frame house have replaced harpoon, husky team,
and snow-block iglu.” The intrusion of industry — particu-
larly the oil industry — has drawn the Eskimo “into an econ-
omy based on national and commercial interests rather than
their own.” Because the motorized sleds allowed hunters to
depart and return in a day or two, their need for iglus
declined, along with their know-how in building them. When
the new industries began importing framed houses, Eskimos

moved in. But this seeming “improvement” brought unfore-
seen problems. In the winter, houses built on permafrost stay
cold because of heat loss through the floor. In the summer,
when the permafrost melts, they sink. Solutions, like building
on timber piles, are expensive, and so is the extra kerosene
needed for heat. The frame houses themselves are costly.
Since hunting is unlikely to meet the additional living
expenses, over half the Eskimo population is on welfare.

Such problems are not limited to the Eskimos, but are wide-
spread among peoples with traditional lifeways. “Dwelling
types that evolved over millennia are disappearing fast,”
writes Oliver, “In many cases alternative housing has been
provided, but it has often been a poor match to require-
ments.” In aboriginal Australia, for example, modern perma-
nent housing has neither met the people’s social and cultural
needs nor brought the health improvements that modern
sanitation would seem to guarantee.
Oliver’s explanation of why such housing fails gets right
at the inextricable connection between how people live and
the climate they live in: “Tribes-people are accustomed to a
different relationship between internal and external space
than that of a conventional house; they also experience a
disconcerting loss of ‘environmental control’ which comes
with being unable to relocate or alter the dwelling to suit spe-
cific social or climatic circumstances, as they had been accus-
tomed to do.” More generally, he writes, “To live in a
western-styled house requires the fragmentation of personal
spaces and getting accustomed to the lifeways of whites; to
adopt them involves a loss of identity. Many aborigines are
seeking to return to their homelands, their own values and
their traditional dwellings.”
A spectacular example of a housing program gone wrong
comes from Gediz, Turkey, where, as a result of a 1970
A Roof Overhead 109
earthquake, the government set about construction of perma-

nent housing for the estimated 70,000 left homeless. The job
was done in 20 months: thousands of brand-new, single-
story, four-room houses; the village layouts were drawn up
to expedite communications and safety in the event of
another earthquake. Yet, as Oliver records, “a dozen years
later, whole villages stood empty, while in others the prefab-
ricated houses had been heavily adapted and extended, or
used as stores.”
Why? The new housing was “simply inappropriate to the
lifeways of the people of Kutahya province.” The fundamen-
tal error was that the “disaster housing” was designed for
nuclear families, whereas the peasant families of Gediz were
extended. This meant that living in the new houses meant
either overcrowding to accommodate the family or else
breaking it up. As Oliver notes, “The peasants would have
preferred to have had the money or the materials to repair
their old houses or to build new ones. It would have been
cheaper and culturally more effective; in these communities
all people have building skills adequate for the purposes.”21
To this answer — that indigenous people suffer when their
self-made, climatically suitable, and culturally comfortable
housing is replaced by the typical modern housing plan —
the affluent Westerner might say, “Well, they need to get
over it. Times change. And besides, what does this have to do
with me?”
That brings us to the second answer, which asks that the
homeowner take a closer look at his own house — and life.
Maybe because our structures are no longer “self-built” but
rather built for us by specialists whose primary concern is to
finish the job, get paid, and move on to the next one, the fact
is that modern, technologically advanced, and expensive con-
struction does not always deliver on its implied promise of
health and happiness. Leland Roth suggests that builders
today are all too willing to use new materials and methods of
assembly “whose long-term durability can only be guessed
at.” He recalls the story of the John Hancock Tower in
Boston, designed by the office of M. Pei and built during
1966 1975 on Boston’s Copley Square. Ultra-modern, it fea-
tured double-glazed windows with a metallic reflective film
on the inner pane of glass. As it turned out, the windows had
an unfortunate tendency to explode, raining shards of glass
down onto the streets below. The failure was caused either
by heat buildup between the panes of glass due to the reflec-
tive film, or by weak frames that allowed the glass to be
sucked out by the turbulent aerodynamics around the build-
ing. In either case, Roth concludes the story with the warning
to early Roman architects from Vitruvius: never use inappro-
priate materials or unsuitable forms of construction.22
Let’s compare that anecdote to another story of an earth-
quake in Turkey, this one in 1999. Worldwide attention was
focused on all the dramatic images of collapsed reinforced-
concrete apartment buildings. As a result, not so much atten-
tion was given to all the brick-and-timber houses, built using
traditional methods that still stood amid the ruins. That these
houses survived, says UNESCO writer David Tresilian,
“mocked conventional wisdom that local masonry construc-
tion was unsafe compared to modern reinforced concrete. It
also drew attention to this form of traditional or vernacular
construction, which is fast disappearing from Turkey’s urban
landscapes.”
As a result, UNESCO, together with the International
Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) and the
Turkish Ministry of Culture organized an international con-
ference to investigate this indigenous architecture. Said
Francis Childe, a co-organizer of the conference: “The
question is whether, in importing convenient, reinforced-
concrete construction methods into areas of high seismic risk,
A Roof Overhead 111
traditional construction methods, better adapted to such

areas, may not have been overlooked. And if they have been
overlooked, it is our duty to ask what could be learned from
such techniques.” What might be learned, says Tresilian, is
that “traditional construction techniques found in earthquake
zones reveal a process of Darwinian style ‘adaptation’ to
environmental threat.”23
Now, let’s rephrase that into a somewhat wider generali-

zation: Traditional construction techniques everywhere reveal
a process of Darwinian style adaptation to climatic condi-
tions. Climate, historically, determined shelter type. In our
own day, on the other hand, houses are often built without
regard to climate. Today’s houses are supposed to be impervi-
ous to climate. But are they?
SICK SHELTERS
Today John and Lynn Bower head the Healthy House

Institute, in Bloomington Indiana, which offers books and
videos on nontoxic living and building construction. Their
journey began 25 years ago when they were rebuilding an old
farmhouse and Lynn got seriously ill. By the time the house
was done, says her husband, “she was basically confined to
bed. She had trouble digesting, trouble breathing, her joints
bothered her, her thinking was fuzzy, she had a bladder infec-
tion.” It turns out that she was done in by the number and
variety of toxins — like formaldehyde — they were using in
the reconstruction. Sick houses are not new, says Bower.
They’ve been around ever since the arrival of such technologi-
cal breakthroughs as gas lighting, lead paint, and asbestos,
among other substances. But today the problem is seriously
compounded by another innovation — “tight houses,” which
have the “advantage” of energy efficiency but which keep

pollutants trapped inside.
Among the dozens of potential contaminants, Bower lists
the Big Three: manufactured wood products such as particle
board and furniture-grade plywood, both of which can give
off formaldehyde; carpeting, which harbors dust and allergy-
provoking particles; and combustion appliances that aren’t
totally sealed (such as wood stoves, fireplaces, and gas ranges
that can leak noxious gases).

And then there’s mold, which grows in moist environ-
ments created by leaks or shoddy construction. Among the
growing number of horror stories is that of Erin Brockovich,
made famous by the movie starring Julia Roberts. She had to
spend more than $700,000 fixing her newly purchased dream
house, which turned out to be permeated with toxic mold.24
Jeffrey May, mold expert and author of My House Is Killing
Me, says that air-conditioning systems, because of the con-
densation they produce, are the likeliest villains in what has
come to be called “sick house syndrome.” But furnaces are
bad, too, because their ductwork often travels through cold,
damp spaces. “Moisture condenses inside, and the ducts get
moldy. And both have blowers that blow the allergens
around.” May says the one thing everybody needs to do is have
their entire air-conditioning system — the air-conditioning
coil, the blower, and the ductwork — thoroughly cleaned.
We’ve also got to stop using those “throwaway” filters and go
for the $15 pleated type.25
Are you wondering how much money you’ve got to spend
to save yourself from your own technology? Cleaning your air
system may not do it. You may need one of the new high-
efficiency particulate air (HEPA) filtering systems that remove
99.97 percent of airborne particles. Or maybe the ultraviolet
lighting that kills mold and mildew inside your air ducts.
You’ve surely got to do something, because the Environmental
A Roof Overhead 113
Protection Agency has deemed indoor air quality one of the top
five environmental health risks the United States faces today.26
Isn’t that fascinating? Of course, the EPA isn’t talking just
about houses. Indigenous people typically only have one shel-
ter to worry about. People in industrialized societies often
have two — the home and the office — and in both of them
we’re being poisoned.
A brief look at the office environment produces these trou-
bling statistics: Toxic exposures to specific chemicals encoun-

tered at work account for 70,000 deaths a year in the United
States, with 350,000 new cases of occupationally-related
environmental illness appearing each year. A survey of outpa-
tients seen in the primary care clinic of a Midwest hospital
found that three-quarters of the men interviewed had been
exposed to at least one potentially toxic agent at work and
over 30 percent had been exposed to more than four poten-
tial toxins. Chemical fumes, solvents, pesticides, and asbestos
were the most common exposures. Sufferers’ symptoms may
include lethargy, dry or sore throat, stuffy nose, headache,
irritation of the eyes, chest tightness, impaired memory and
concentration, dizziness, nausea, itching, skin rash, and short-
ness of breath.
According to Total Health magazine, “at any one time 10
to 25 million workers in a million U.S. office buildings suffer
from building-related illness. The personal and economic
impact of this modern miasma is considerable, because symp-
tomatic workers feel lousy, have reduced productivity and
are absent more.”27
Some experts say a little fresh air would help. But a lot
of building owners, who don’t want to go to the expense
of blowing fresh air into their “tight” buildings, say no, it
wouldn’t. To resolve the dispute, a team of researchers at
Georgia Tech in Atlanta measured a new 28-story building
for three common indoor pollutants: carbon dioxide, volatile
organic compounds (VOCs), and formaldehyde. They found

that pumping four times more fresh air into a building caused
a significant drop in these pollutants: VOCs dropped 40 per-
cent, carbon dioxide 27 percent, and formaldehyde 24
percent.28
Fresh air — now (that’s or) there’s an innovation.
Canadian researchers have gone a step further. They’re
working on what they call “an environmentally friendly air-
cleaning system” nicknamed the “breathing wall.” Actually,

it’s “an indoor ecosystem” — made up of rocks, plants, fish,
and microorganisms — which, in effect, inhales dirty air and
exhales clean air. The one being tested in Toronto’s Canada
Life Assurance Company is a 5-foot-high, 15-foot-long sheet
of moss- and fem-covered lava rock, moistened and sup-
ported by large aquariums filled with fish and aquatic plants.
Fans draw room air across the plants and water and through
the wall, which absorbs airborne contaminants in the
process.
“In outdoor environments,” explains one of the system’s
developers, “nature takes care of cleaning air, so we applied
this same approach to develop an air-cleaning system for
indoor environments.”29
I believe “this same approach” would make sense to ver-
nacular builders everywhere.
CONCLUSION
Our shelter, like our food and clothing, has historically —

and by necessity — been a function of climate. Modern tech-
nology and rising affluence in Western societies have removed
the necessity. We can now eat Chinese food in Des Moines,
Idaho. We can wear cowboy boots across the Serengeti Plain.
We can build Italian villas in suburban neighborhoods.
A Roof Overhead 115
But, as we have tried to show, in ways that are sometimes

obvious and sometimes subtle, climate maintains its powerful
influence over our lives. We discover that, after all, the foods
that are local and abundant are also healthful. We find that
“clothing the natives” might make them more fit for heaven,
but that it makes them sick here on earth. We discover that
shutting ourselves up inside our airtight, “climate-control”
houses is causing an epidemic of airborne illnesses. In other
words, climate still retains considerable authority over what

we consume — or what we ought to consume.
In Part Two of this book, we’ll go a step further. We’ll con-
sider the extent to which climate affects not just what we con-
sume, but what we are — our personalities, our habits of
mind, and our behavior. We’ll use climate as a glass through
which to examine a number of fundamental behavioral issues:
• To what extent do we value punctuality, and what kind of
value do we place on time itself?
• How closely do we guard our space?
• Do we think of ourselves as individuals, or members of a

larger collective?
• Do we include friends and family in our business, or do we

shun nepotism and keep them separate?
• Do we thrive on competition, or prefer cooperation?
• Do we embrace technology, or are we wary of its environ-

mental repercussions?
For example, will we find that people in northern climates,

where daylight is scarcer, see time as a valuable resource and
make a point of never running late? Will we find that people
in warmer climates, nourished by extended families, tend to
place less importance on the individual than the institution?
(Fig. 3.2).
Fig. 3.2. Climatic Explanations for Cultural Differences

r 2016 Dr. Jagdish N. Sheth.
In any case, our generalizations are likely to be sweeping,

and speculative. We will be suggesting possibilities, not deliv-
ering doctrine. Nevertheless, for interested citizens of our
global world — whether policy makers, marketers, or curious
onlookers — a climate-based look at behavior might be
enlightening.
NOTES
1. Roth (1993).
2. Oliver (1987).
3. Oliver, pp. 22 28.
4. Roth (1979).
5. Oliver, pp. 22 31.
6. Jell and Sabine Jell-Bahlsen (2003).
A Roof Overhead 117
7. Oliver, p. 35.
8. Oliver, p. 94.
9. Oliver, pp. 72 75.
10. Oliver, pp. 80 81.
11. Bourgeois and Pelos (1992, Feb Mar).
12. Oliver, pp. 118 124.
13. Badawy (1966).

14. Roth, pp. 121 122.
15. Roth, p. 6.
16. Parsons (1991, Apr).
17. Oliver, pp. 64 65.
18. Oliver, pp. 89 101.
19. Sayer (1993).
20. Harrison (2001, Jul).
21. Oliver, pp. 212 216.
22. Roth, pp. 132 133.
23. Tresilian (2000, Dec).
24. Cawley (2003, May).
25. Armstrong (2004, Jun 21).
26. Anderson Forest (2004, Aug 9).
27. Galland (1998, Apr May).
28. Science News (Feb 15, 1992, p. 109).
29. Johnson (1998, Jun Jul).

PART TWO

FOUR
YOUR TIME OR MINE?

When I was a visiting professor in Denmark back in the

1970s, we threw a dinner party for some colleagues. The invi-
tation said six o’clock, so I figured my guests would start
arriving about six-fifteen. What happened was very surpris-
ing. At six o’clock sharp, the doorbell rang, and all of the
guests were at the door. “How did you manage to all arrive
at the same time?” I asked. They hadn’t, they explained.
They had been arriving over the last several minutes and had
been waiting in their cars. “Six o’clock means six o’clock,”
they said. “We are punctual.”
Anyone who has traveled has probably noticed how atti-
tudes toward time and punctuality vary from one place or
region to another. When I was teaching at the University of
Illinois, I found the Midwest (basically a Germanic culture)
to be almost as rigorous as Denmark. If you invite guests for
dinner at six-thirty, they will show up no later than six-forty-
five. On the other hand, try throwing a party in Southern
California. You might as well just call it an open house. Your
guests might show up at six-thirty, or they might show up at
121
nine-thirty. They are not being intentionally inconsiderate.

They simply have a different attitude about time.
It’s the same in India, my country of origin. At my age
now, I attend a lot of weddings of my relatives. Think of the
typical Christian or Western wedding. Every detail is care-
fully orchestrated: rehearsal, dress rehearsal, ceremony,
reception — all timed to the minute. At the typical Indian
wedding, guess what? You don’t know when it will begin or

end. And you don’t care! It is improvisation, rather than
orchestration. One of my grandnieces recently got married
in India. The unstructured, three-day affair began the first
morning with a home ceremony, and the priest was
45 minutes late. “I had something else to do,” he explained.
It didn’t matter to him. Then, in the middle of the ceremony,
the priest gets a cell phone call, and he stops everything so he
can take it. But nobody got upset. No big deal.
It’s my contention that the concern for punctuality, for
watching the clock, for being ever-mindful of the time is a
function of climate. Like so much else that we’ve looked at, it
may have its roots in the shift from the nomadic, hunter-
gatherer lifestyle to the sedentary, agricultural one that
marked the beginning of the civilization we would ultimately
come to know as Western. In northern Europe, early agricul-
turalists were at the mercy of the weather. There was a rela-
tively short window, in the old days, to plant your seeds, to
grow and harvest your crops. There is only so much time. If
you miss the window, you miss the whole year, you lose your
means of survival. So perhaps northern Europe — and by
extension, the Western psyche — was nudged toward punctu-
ality by climate (Fig. 4.1).
In warm climates, with longer or even year-round growing
seasons, the case is naturally much different. Why watch the
weather in Southern California, or Hawaii, or Singapore? If
Your Time or Mine? 123

you don’t plant today, you can plant tomorrow. But in

London, Berlin, and Boston, you had better stay on schedule.
We are likely to be amused (or amazed) by extremes of
both types: those obsessed about time, and those who never
give it a thought. But the climate they come from may be at
the root of their behavior. Moreover, as the pace of modern
life in the West continues to accelerate, our consciousness
of time can only become further heightened. Here in the
United States we seem to have more and more things to do.
We have more women working now — 65 percent working
full-time jobs. How much time do our busy lives leave us?
Ironically, I believe that it is now “time poverty” that is cre-
ating all of our stress, not economic poverty. Otherwise, the
Pacific islanders would be stressed out and the New
Yorkers would be relaxed and happy. But, in fact, we go to
the islands to relax, to escape the demands of time. Time
rules with an oppressive hand. We hurry up to stay in
control.
Our blood pressure rises.

Over the past half-century cultural anthropologists and
social scientists have been fascinated to discover how differ-
ent cultures conceive of, use, and value time. Richard Brislin
and Eugene Kim, for example, have observed the distinction
between “clock time” and “event time.” If people behave
according to clock time, they write, “this means that they are
careful about the times of scheduled appointments, make sure
their watches are running on time, and become irritated if

others are careless about scheduled meetings.” On the other
hand, people who adhere to event time “organize their days
around various events and participate in one event until it
reaches its natural end and then begin another event.”
Without connecting their observation to climate, these
anthropologists nevertheless find clock time to be characteris-
tic of North America, Western Europe, and Australia, while
event time is the controlling principle in South America,
South Asia, “and countries with developing economies where
the necessity of attention to clock time (e.g., stock market
openings and closings) is not yet fully part of people’s work
habits.”1
Social psychologist Robert Levine, in his insightful book,
A Geography of Time, was among the first to fully elaborate
this distinction between clock time and event time. It’s not
surprising that clock time is associated with the West since
the evolution of the mechanical clock parallels — and was
very much bound up with — the Industrial Revolution.
Levine notes that it was only after the introduction of
mechanical clocks that the word “speed” (originally spelled
“spede”) made its first appearance in the English language.
And in the same vein, Lewis Mumford, preeminent social
critic of the mid-twentieth century, observed that it was the
clock, not the steam engine that was the key machine of the
industrial age.2
If clock time fed the fires of industrialization, industrializa-

tion in turn forced the standardization of clock time. Since
communities were reluctant to change their own clocks to
synchronize with somebody else’s, as late as the 1860s there
were still about 70 different time zones. But, says Levine,
“the Industrial Revolution changed all that.” For the growing
network of railroads, especially, “the lack of coordinated
time standards created a nightmare for establishing sensible
and efficient timetables.” Consequently, in 1883 the railroads

established the four time zones still used in the United States
today, and in 1918 the U.S. government wrote the time zones
into law.
With clock time effectively established and standardized,
clock manufacturers did their part by promoting the essential
morality of living by the clock. According to the Electric
Signal Clock Company’s catalog, for example, “If there is
one virtue that should be cultivated more than any other by
him who would succeed in life, it is punctuality: if there is
one error to be avoided, it is being behind time.” The early
producers of employee time cards were equally quick to point
out what their products would mean for plant productivity.
The International Time Recording Company (which would
eventually become IBM) said in its brochure, “There is noth-
ing so fatal to the discipline of the plant, nor so disastrous to
its smooth and profitable working as to have a body of men
irregular in appearance, who come late and go out at
odd times.” The new machines would “weed out these
undesirables.”
Eventually the application of clock time to the workplace
would reach its apotheosis with the “efficiency engineering”
of Frederick Taylor. His ability to reduce the human worker
to nothing more than “output per minute” somehow reminds
me of Mussolini’s achievement in Italy: fascism succeeded in
making the trains run on time. But for now it is enough to
note more generally that the values associated with clock

time — punctuality, efficiency, productivity became part of
the ethical paradigm of the West. As Levine notes, even wind-
ing one’s watch regularly was regarded as a sign of character.
“A young man on the way up came to be known as a ‘real
stemwinder’.”3
Now, compare the regimented clock time of the West to
the Luval tribe of Zambia, who divide the year into 12 peri-
ods of varying lengths, all of which are marked by changes in

climate and vegetation; or the Bahan of Borneo, whose year
consists of eight periods, each of which reflect a particular
agricultural activity; or the Trobriand Islanders of New
Guinea, who start their annual calendar, and planting season,
when the marine annelid spawns. In these cultures, and in
many others around the globe, events dictate what time it is.
Farmers in Burundi, in Central Africa, might make an early-
morning appointment by saying, “TU see you when the cows
go out to graze,” or agree to a mid-day appointment “when
the cows go drink in the stream.” In Madagascar, if you ask
how long something will take, the reply might be “the time of
a rice-cooking” (about half an hour) or “the frying of a
locust” (a quick moment).4
Unless they are aware of cultural differences, their obses-
sion with clock time sometimes puts Western businessmen at
a disadvantage. Visiting Latin America to negotiate a deal,
for example, they might be kept waiting, “cooling their
heels” in an outer office for a half-hour or so. The Latin exec-
utive doesn’t care what time it is, but he knows that his
American counterpart does, and he may figure that the
American’s anxiety and irritation may make him a less effec-
tive negotiator.
Similarly, as Brislin and Kim point out, long periods of
silence at meetings can also be a source of frustration for
Americans and Western Europeans. The Westerner, anxious
to push the agenda along, doesn’t understand that people

from other cultures — especially many Asian and Pacific
Island nations — are quite comfortable with silence. “They
feel that it allows people to collect their thoughts and to think
carefully about their next contribution. In negotiations,
Americans will sometimes misinterpret long periods of silence
as a signal that they should make a concession. Their negoti-
ating counterparts in Asia know this and will sometimes pro-
long their silence in the expectation that a concession will be

made.”
These anthropologists offer the instructive example of
the business person from one country that has a 1:30 PM
appointment with a company executive in another country.
But right before the meeting, a department head stops by the
executive’s office with pictures of his daughter’s new baby.
Who has the claims on the executive’s time? In the United
States, running on clock time, the meeting comes first. But in
cultures that run on event time, the baby pictures interpose
themselves, and the meeting can only commence once the
“event” of sharing the pictures has come to an end.
Since people in any given culture tend to assume that their
way is the right way, conflict between clock time and event
time is inevitable. Usually such misunderstandings are minor
and are resolved by little more than an embarrassed apology.
Sometimes, however, they can be very serious. Levine
reminds us of what happened in 1985, when a group of
Shiite Muslim terrorists hijacked a TWA jetliner and held
40 Americans hostage, with the demand that Israel release
764 Lebanese Shiite prisoners. The terrorists handed the 40
hostages over to Shiite Muslim leaders who were to pursue
the negotiations. The situation became perilous when one of
the Muslim negotiators gave Israel “two days” to respond to
their demands — or else the hostages would be returned to
the terrorists. Two days was clearly not going to be enough
time for the U.S. and Israeli negotiators to work out the nec-
essary face-saving compromise, and a critical impasse
loomed. At the last minute, when the Muslim leader was
made to understand how his ultimatum was being inter-
preted, he clarified his position: “We said a couple of days
but we were not necessarily specifying 48 hours.” As Levine
sums it up, “Forty deaths and a possible war were nearly
caused by a miscommunication over the meaning of the word

‘day.’ … The U.S. negotiators were thinking on clock time.
[The Muslim leader] was on event time.”5
Indeed, the attitude toward time has become something of
a cultural marker, according to Brislin and Kim. When to
show up for a 9:00 a.m. meeting depends upon whose time
we are running on. “For meetings where people can show up
at 9:30 or later, we have heard the words ‘Malaysian,’
‘Filipino,’ and ‘Hawaiian’ time used to indicate low concern
with punctuality. The term ‘rubber’ time can be inserted for
the same purpose if people don’t care to indicate a specific
country. If the starting time of the meeting is to be taken seri-
ously, the name of a clock time culture would be inserted,
such as “American” or “Japanese.” Even within the United
States various minority groups make a point of distinguishing
their own time concept from that of the Anglo majority.
American Indians talk about “living on Indian time,”
while Mexican-Americans differentiate between hora inglesa-
clock time — and their own less structured hora Mexicana.
In studying the connection between how cultures view
time and how they live, Levine constructed an experiment to
determine the “pace of life” in 31 countries. Using three
variables — walking speeds in urban areas, amount of time
spent waiting for service at a post office, and accuracy of
clocks compared with the international standard ’Levine
found a remarkable correlation between clock time and
fast-paced living. Eight of the nine fastest cultures were in

Western Europe. In order, the top nine were:
• Switzerland
• Ireland
• Germany
• Japan
• Italy
• England
• Sweden
• Austria, and
• Netherlands
If there are no surprises there, neither are there any at the

bottom of the list, says Levine. “The last eight ranks were all
occupied by nonindustrialized countries from Africa, Asia,
the Middle East, and Latin America. The slowest of all were
the great cradles of amanha, rubber time, and a manana:
Brazil, followed by Indonesia, and, in last place, Mexico.” In
Brazil, for example, Levine and his team found an almost
complete disregard for the dictates of the clock. When asked
how long they would wait for a late arriver to show up at a
nephew’s birthday party, Brazilians said they would hold on
for an average of 129 minutes! As Levine points out, in
America that’s liable to be nine minutes longer than the entire
duration of the party.
What other factors are characteristic of the fastest-paced,
clock-driven nations?
According to Levine, these countries have vital economies,
a high degree of industrialization, larger populations, cooler
climates, and a cultural orientation toward individualism. It
certainly makes sense that the “number one determinant” is

economics, or, specifically, that the high-charged industrial
economies of Japan and the West are indicative of a fast-
paced life. After all, says Levine, “the single most crucial
watershed event in the acceleration of the tempo of the
Western world was the Industrial Revolution.” Accordingly,
the fastest people were found in the wealthiest North
American, Northern European, and Asian nations, while peo-
ple moved slowest in third-world countries, especially in

South and Central America and the Middle East.
That the fast-paced nations also exhibit an individualist-
centered culture is a point we’ll return to in the next chapter.
But I must say I’m gratified to see Levine include climate as a
determinant of pace of life, giving “considerable validity to
the old stereotype about life being slower in warmer places.”
All of the slowest nations in the 31-nation survey, says
Levine, have tropical climates. “Looking at the 31 countries
as a whole, we found a strong relationship between the
climate (as measured by average maximum temperatures) of
cities and how slow they were on our measures.” Levine sug-
gests several explanations — that heat induces torpor, that
life in warm climates requires fewer and less costly belong-
ings, or even that warm climates encourage taking time to
enjoy the moment — but in the end he can only generalize
that whatever the explanation, “it is clear that hotter places
are much more likely to have slower tempos.”6
That colder climates and the concomitant need to control
one’s environment constitute an essential impetus behind the
rise of industrialism in the West is one of the core ideas we
are advancing here. And our argument is strengthened by
research confirming that the West’s devotion to clock time
may be similarly climate driven. What’s interesting to note is
that in its attitude toward time — as in other areas we have
investigated — the apparent hegemony of the West comes
with hidden costs. As Levine writes, “It is one of the great

ironies of modern times that, with all of our time-saving
creations, people have less time to themselves than ever
before.” People in the Middle Ages, whatever they may have
lacked, certainly had more leisure time than contemporary
Westerners. Throughout pre-industrial Europe, the average
number of holidays per year was approximately 115 days.
Today you have to travel to one of those slower-paced,

warm-climate cultures to find an appreciation of leisure time.
The Kapauku of Papua, for example, make a point of never
working two consecutive days, while the !Kung Bushmen typ-
ically work about two and a half days a week, six hours each
day. In general, the poorer the country, the more annual holi-
days, and the less addiction to work.7
Moreover, the fast-paced life, and the time-stress that goes
along with it, often has another downside. Faster-paced cul-
tures are much more likely to have higher rates of death from
heart disease. “Not only did our results show a clear relation-
ship between pace of life and heart disease, but the magnitude
of the relationship was even higher than that usually found
between heart disease and Type A personality tests at the
individual level.” Levin speculates that the correlation is so
strong because of a pattern of reciprocal attraction. “Fast
places appeal to fast people, and fast people create fast
places.”8
It may be, though, that the gravest threat posed by the
clock-centered lifestyle of the West is not physical heart dis-
ease but metaphysical “soul disease.” What does it mean,
finally, that we have severed our connection to the ancient
biorhythms of nature and elevated in their place the artificial
tick-tock of the mechanical timepiece? As Jeremy Rifkin puts
it, “With the dawn of the industrial age, civilization began
accelerating the process of separating itself from the time
orientation of the planet. Today, that separation is nearly

complete.”
Thus we see how the cold-climate culture of the West pro-
duces the obsessive clock watcher, the person who believes
every moment must be productive, is the person always in a
hurry, the person whose blood pressure is on the rise. This
person also has learned to conceive of time as a source of
power and status. “Powerful people control less powerful
people’s time,” as Brislin and Kim observe. “When two peo-

ple arrange a meeting, it is very natural for the less powerful
person to accommodate to the more powerful individual’s
busy schedule. After all, the time of the powerful is more
valuable than that of the less powerful.” In this regard, the
mighty CEO who loves to keep subordinates waiting can
only stand in awe of Pope Gregory VII, who German
emperor Henry IV kept waiting barefoot in the snow for
three days outside the castle of Canossa in Tuscany before
granting him absolution from excommunication.9
Jeremy Rifkin agrees that in a “hierarchical time culture”
like ours, status and power are often delineated in terms of
how valuable a person’s time is. The “time poor” have to
wait while the “temporally privileged” are the ones who get
waited upon, and people are compensated not so much based
upon the work they actually accomplish but rather upon how
valuable their time is considered to be. However, Rifkin takes
the argument a step further, observing that “political tyranny
in every culture begins by devaluing the time of others” and
that the exploitation of human beings is always “based on
the proposition that some people’s time is more valuable and
other people’s time more expendable.” Rifkin’s Holy Grail is
a “democratic time culture” in which everyone’s time is
equally valuable. “In a culture where the sacredness of all life
comes first, there can be no other way to view time.”10 Of
course, those “democratic time cultures” exist in indigenous
societies all over the world. In the clock-driven, power-

grasping West, “the sacredness of all life” is merely a quaint
notion.
Here in the West we like to remind ourselves, “Time lost
is lost forever.” That’s why we hate to waste a minute: we
can never get it back. We don’t like things slipping through
our fingers, whether time or money. But, the thing is, we are
equally obsessed about the future. We see it stretching before
us, with all its promises and pitfalls, and we plan for it almost
desperately. Think of the millions of television commercials
these days for financial planning firms. This is the essence of
our need to control.
Certain behaviors are so ingrained that it’s hard to imag-
ine an alternative, but not all cultures share our inclination to
worry about the future. Noted cultural anthropologist
Edward Hall tells of the people of the Middle East “with
whom it is pointless to make an appointment too far in
advance, because the informal structure of their time system
places everything beyond a week into a single category of
‘future,’ in which plans tend to ‘slip off their minds’.”
It’s hard to imagine that we could plan no longer than one
week into the future. We Americans plan forever; businesses
must have their five-year plans and their ten-year plans, and
individuals have their IRAs. Anybody who doesn’t “plan for
the future,” we believe, is simply a fool.
For a contrast, Hall considers America’s Navajo Indians,
for whom time is like space “only the here and now is real.
The future has little reality to it.” A valuable gift, promised in
the future, is of no interest. A much less valuable gift, now, is
enthusiastically appreciated. “Of the two,” reports Hall,
“only the immediate gift has reality; a promise of future bene-
fits is not even worth thinking about.”
Hall recalls the problems this attitude caused during his
work in the early days of the range control and soil
conservation programs. It was his job to supervise the con-

struction of a series of earth dams, which would provide
water for the Navajo’s sheep for years to come. But it was
impossible to convince the Navajo workmen that they should
work hard and build the dam quickly so that they could get
more dams built during the program’s time frame. “The argu-
ment that they could have one dam or ten, depending on how
hard they worked, conveyed nothing,” says Hall. “It wasn’t
until I learned to translate our behavior into their terms that

they produced as we knew they could.”11
Note Hall’s willingness to “translate” his own behavior
and approach Navajo culture on its terms. Now let’s pause to
compare Hall’s account with the observations of an earlier
anthropologist, Yale’s Ellsworth Huntington, as he discusses
the “work ethic” of South American Indians. “It is literally
true in South America, for instance, that the more an Indian
is paid the less he will work. If one day’s pay will buy two
days’ food, he will work half the time; if the pay is increased
so that one day’s pay will buy food for three days, he will
work one third of the time. The experiment has been tried
again and again.”
Both scientists encounter a culture where work is moti-
vated by the needs of the immediate present. Hall sees his
experience as evidence of a radically different conception of
the future. Ellsworth, contemptuously, finds only evidence of
the sloth, indolence, and “inefficiency” that he believes pre-
vail in hot-weather climates. Ellsworth continues, “The negro
in the United States is generally considered more efficient
than he was in Africa, whereas his stay-at-home brother and
the Indian of tropical America, remaining in their old envi-
ronment, do not seem to have changed.”12
Huntington’s Civilization and Climate was first published
in 1915. It would be another generation or more before
anthropologists, generally, began to lay aside their own
prejudices in their examination of comparative cultures.

I mention Huntington in this context because, with his supe-
riority, his arrogance, and his insistence on “efficiency” —
that is, the productive use of time — he perfectly epitomizes
“Western man” as conceived here in this chapter.
Instead of obsessing about the future, as we do in the
West, some cultures hold on firmly to the past. Among the
people of the atoll of Truk in the Southwest Pacific, says

Hall, “past events stack up, placing an ever-increasing burden
on the Trukese and weighing heavily on the present. They
are, in fact, treated as though they had just occurred.” Hall
tells the story of a villager who came running up to military
government headquarters panting that a murder had been
committed in the village and the murderer was running
around loose. This was true, but investigation revealed that
the murder had taken place 17 years earlier.13
From the Western point of view, of course, dwelling in the
past is as counterproductive as being cavalier about the
future. What is valued is productive, efficient activity in the
here and now. Hall points out that “Northern Europeans and
those of us who share in this culture make a distinction
between whether or not a person is engaged in an activity….
Just plain sitting, trying to capture a sense of self, is not con-
sidered to be doing anything.”
But he offers a long list of other cultures (generally warm-
weather cultures, we might note) where just plain sitting is
doing something: the Navajo, Trukese, eastern Mediterranean
Arab cultures, Japanese, and many of those of India. “The dis-
tinction between being active or not is not made,” writes Hall.
Thus he distinguishes between ageric [“active”] cultures and
non-ageric ones. “A culture is non-ageric if, in the process of
handling the matter of ‘becoming later,’ it makes no difference
whether you do something or not. With us, we have to work
to get ahead. We do not get ahead automatically. In the cul-

tures mentioned above, this is not nearly so important.”14
In this same vein, Levine notes the sometimes desperate
lengths Americans go to in order to fill their hours with some-
thing to do. “Even leisure time in the United States is planned
and eventful. We live in a culture where it is not uncommon
for people to literally run in order to relax, or to pay money
for the privilege of pacing on a treadmill. It sometimes seems
as if life is constructed with the primary goal of avoiding

the awkwardness and sometimes the tenor of having nothing
to do.”
By contrast, he describes experiences in Nepal and India,
where he has watched friends drop by one another’s homes,
only to sit and remain silent, visits during which everyone,
except him, was perfectly comfortable. “Sometimes the
silence would extend for hours, at which time a conversation,
often full of laughter, would explode as if through a sponta-
neous combustion. Then there would again be silence, which
might continue until it was time to leave.” When he would
ask his hosts how they felt about sitting around “doing noth-
ing,” they explained that simply sitting was doing something.
An exchange student from Burkina Faso in Eastern Africa
expressed similar bafflement at the concept of “wasting”
time. “How can you waste time?” he asked Levine. “If you’re
not doing one thing, you’re doing something else. Even if
you’re just talking to a friend, or sitting around, that’s what
you’re doing.” Levine adds that a responsible Burkina Faso
citizen recognizes that “what is truly wasteful — sinful, to
some — is to not make sufficient time available for the people
in your life.”
Levine cites China as an example of a culture where
“doing nothing is highly treasured.” The Chinese, he writes,
are “masters of waiting for the right moment. They believe
that the wait itself is what creates the moment. How long is
the wait? As long as it needs to be. Artificially abbreviating

this incubation stage would be as senseless as skimping on
the foundation of a building.”15 We’ll return to this point in
the following chapter, but we might note here that Nepal,
India, Africa, and China are all examples of collectivist,
rather than individualist cultures.
Of course, the West’s insistence that time be used produc-
tively is part and parcel of our modern conception of time as
a valuable resource. Time is money; it can be bought and

sold. In fact, defining time as a resource is now a part of con-
temporary Western economic theory. Not so in other cul-
tures, as is immediately seen when we ask how much office
time is spent on work, and how much on socializing. “For
companies in big cities in the United States,” write Brislin and
Kim, “a typical answer is ‘80 percent task time, 20 percent
social time.’ In India, Nepal, Indonesia, Malaysia, and some
Latin American countries, the answer is often, ‘50 percent
work time, 50 percent social time.’” What the Westerner
doesn’t understand is that all this socializing has its own pur-
pose. “Workers may be developing supportive work relation-
ships during this socializing that can be called upon later
when work needs to be done quickly and well.” Like other
manifestations of the “event time” lifestyle, socializing during
the workday occurs frequently “in collectivist cultures where
people develop their identity in terms of relationships to
others.”
Yes, it would seem that the West has its obsession with
time, “as something fixed in nature, something around us
and from which we cannot escape.” We segment, schedule,
and plan our time. We hate to be late and fret over “where
the time has gone.” Hall believes that we have stressed this
aspect of culture and “developed it to a point unequaled any-
where in the world, except, perhaps, in Switzerland and north
Germany.”16
Unlike Levine, Hall draws no climatic correlation, but

note the cultures Hall cites to contrast against the West.
Almost invariably they are found in warm-temperate or tropi-
cal climates. I believe there is a link. I believe, too, that the
West’s fixation upon time is part of a larger compulsion — to
control his environment — and that this, too, is climate
driven. As agricultural civilization spread north and west into
northern Europe, the colder climate, along with fewer hours
of sunlight and shorter growing seasons, put a premium on

virtues like ingenuity, efficiency, and time-consciousness —
virtues that would become hallmarks of the Western psyche.
We mentioned the tight hold of the past on the islanders
of the Truk atoll. We also know of the prevalence of ancestor
worship in many cultures worldwide. I find Western and
American culture most fascinating in this regard. Not only do
we not worship our ancestors; we forget about them more
and more quickly. “It is interesting to note,” writes Jeremy
Rifkin, “that the acceptable duration for mourning has
shrunk significantly in the past century.” In 1927 Emily Post
recommended that a widow mourn her loss for three years;
by 1950 the standard period of bereavement had plummeted
to six months, and by 1972 Amy Vanderbilt was advising the
bereaved to try to pursue “a usual social course” within a
week or so.17 The grief-stricken in today’s world are likely to
be advised that “it’s time to move on.” But this is another
function of our concept of time. Only this minute and the
ones to come are important, because that’s when we will get
things done. The past, as Henry Ford famously remarked, “is
a bucket of ashes.”
New is good in America. Unless you happen to be an
antiques dealer, old is bad. Anthropologist Murray Thomas
illustrates the radically different perspective of cultures that
value things according to how long ago they occurred. The
North American Indians, for example, believed that (a) in the
original creation of the occupants of the universe, animals

appeared before humans, and (b) whatever appears earlier is
superior to whatever appears later. “Thus,” writes Thomas,
“animals are thought to enjoy a certain superiority over peo-
ple, and the respect accorded certain animals derives at least
partly from this belief.”18
This sequence-of-appearance principle also underlies the
devotion of Native Americans to their ancestors, which, as
noted, the West generally lacks. But I am more interested in

Murray’s point about the respect accorded to animals,
because what it shows is that, fundamentally, the sequence-of-
appearance principle is all about respect for “the world that
was already here.” Western culture has a far different notion:
that the world can be reshaped to meet the needs of advancing
civilization.
In an earlier chapter we noted how, even with the best
intentions, international food aid programs sometimes prove
harmful to indigenous diets. In the case of the so-called
“green revolution,” we see how such a program sometimes
disrupts native life on an even more fundamental level.
Anthropologist L.A. Jarosz, writing in Geographical Review,
examines the effects of Western industrialized agriculture on
the work rhythms of rice farmers in Madagascar.
Among native Madagascar people like the Sihanaka, farm
work is traditionally performed by members of the immediate
family or community work groups and is the source of much
social life, singing, and communal cohesion. Governed only
by the agricultural season, farm tasks blurred the distinction
between work and play. Moreover, rice, the island’s staple
food, is more than an agricultural product. According to oral
tradition, rice was stolen by God’s daughters and presented
as a gift on their marriages to earthly sovereigns. Thus, rice is
considered to be “the source of life, and all activities related
to its cultivation are of fundamental cultural importance.”
But here comes the green revolution, introduced by post-

colonial state planners to boost rice production in the
Alaotra region, popularly known as Madagascar’s granary.
The green revolution, says Jarosz, brought “rationality
and efficiency” to rice production, values “derived from the
organization and ideology of Western industrial technology
and … part of the legacy of the industrial revolution.” Under
the new dispensation, the latest scientific research into pest
eradication, water control, and plant genetics is brought to

the task of increasing crop yields. In Madagascar, and else-
where around the globe, we know that the green revolution
has in fact produced tremendous results — along with pro-
blems like increased dependence on fossil fuels (in the pro-
duction of fertilizers) and chemical pollution. Less well
known is what effect the green revolution continues to have
on the cultures on which it has been imposed.
As Jarosz writes, “Industrial agriculture demands a con-
ception of time based on the calendar and the clock that dif-
fers from conceptions of time found in indigenous
agricultural systems.” Irrigation systems are geared to deliver
precise amounts of water at exact times; fertilizers and pesti-
cides are measured and applied with precision. Planting,
weeding, and harvesting are so timed as to eliminate loss or
waste. In the interest of efficiency, large-scale monoculture
has tended to replace the small-scale, diversified agriculture
that characterized the farm systems of Latin America, Asia,
and Africa up until World War II. These “technological
transfers from the North to the South,” says Jarosz, did
increase yields on a global scale, but they also brought
“changing work rhythms and increased labor demands” on
indigenous populations.
Much like Huntington’s opinion of South American
Indians, when the French colonized Madagascar at the end of
the nineteenth century, they scorned the native Sihanaka as
superstitious, intemperate, lazy, and apathetic. Why? They

produced only enough for subsistence and couldn’t be made
to see the wisdom of producing a surplus. The French, to
boost agricultural exports, began the work that the green rev-
olution would continue. They built dikes, irrigation canals,
roads, and dams and introduced hybrid seed varieties along
with synthetic fertilizers. When Madagascar regained its inde-
pendence in 1960, a land-reform program was well under-
way, a project that “envisioned a ‘nuclear farm family’ set in

the middle of a homogenous plot of about four hectares that
was crisscrossed by a network of canals and drains operating
systematically and efficiently.”
The problem was that, as a Sihanaka peasant explained to
Jarosz, “this is not how we live.” These natives had always
lived near their kin, clustered in villages close to ancestral
fields, “not in single, solitary family dwellings in the midst of
assigned lots.” The Sihanaka have resisted the demands
imposed by land reform and the state’s “cultivation calendar”
in a number of ways — the most interesting of which is by
the invocation of taboo, an aspect of their belief system that
also says much about their concept of time.
Though exact practices differ from region to region — and
even from village to village — the general rule is that each
week has certain taboo days “during which work on irrigated
and swamp rice is strictly forbidden.” Thursday is the taboo
day for the majority of the inhabitants of Alaotra, says
Jarosz, although some individuals and groups may also
observe taboo days on Tuesday or Sunday. Needless to say,
the planners and technicians responsible for maintaining the
cultivation calendar see these taboos as evidence of the
backwardness of the people, but, clearly, other forces are at
work here.
In the first place, taboo days give the natives a respite
from the exigencies of the agricultural calendar, and a chance
to turn their attention to other vital activities. Taboo days

give the men four or five days a month to pursue the small-
scale commerce and dryland agriculture that are essential to
their overall economic well-being. They give the women a
chance to do the marketing. They give both men and women
a chance to relax and socialize.
But even more important is the “powerfully unifying social
role” played by observance of taboo days. As Jarosz notes,
these days “signal resistance to the technocratic time-work

discipline orchestrated primarily by Europeans, state adminis-
trators, and outsiders.” They constitute a form of collective
solidarity against “development experts, foreign technicians,
and governmental bureaucrats.” Grounded in oral tradition
and embedded in the local collective memory of edicts by pre-
colonial kings and diviners, taboo days assert Malagasy iden-
tity, and adhering to them expresses what it means to be
human: “taking time to socialize at the market, to drink rum,
to braid one another’s hair, and to rest.”
To conclude, writes Jarosz, “Thursdays are times to reas-
sert humanity and its power against an externally imposed
cultivation calendar and the hierarchical power relationships
between experts and peasants. Taboo observance … strives
to curtail the anomie of modernity and the work experiences
that make time a commodity and a metaphor for money in
the context of agricultural labor.”19
I probably don’t need to point out that the Christian tradi-
tion once had a similar taboo day — Sunday. You might
want to argue that it still does, and I will agree that Sunday
remains a “day off” for some workers, as well as the day on
which many Christians attend religious services. But I would
argue that in today’s world Sunday has also been indirectly
but effectively coopted by the forces of Western materialist
culture. To the extent that watching television has become
the week-end, leisure-time activity of Americans, the paid
advertising that brings us our favorite sports events, movies,

and news wrap-ups is at the same time relentlessly preaching
the doctrine of consumption — a doctrine much more funda-
mental to the way most of us actually live our lives than any
message we might have heard during a Sunday-morning ser-
mon. The fact that virtually all retail establishments — shops,
malls, restaurants — are now open on Sunday (a remarkable
change from just a few decades ago, as well as a victory for
the “time is money” mentality) is powerful testimony to

the hegemony of the doctrine of consumption in today’s
world. After all, not much is still taboo on the taboo day of
the West.
Looking more generally at the effects of clock time upon
the spiritual and religious aspects of modern Western culture,
Rifkin writes, “In the new era, being a ‘good company man’
replaced the idea of being ‘a faithful servant of the Lord’.
Time was stripped of its sacred context and made into a util-
ity to advance the productive goals of an increasingly secular
civilization.” With each advance in time-keeping technology,
he continues, “humanity has distanced itself farther and far-
ther from the rhythms of nature.” From the calendar to the
clock to the computer, “the temporal trail leads away from
the intimacy of shared temporality that binds life to life,
human to beast, animal to plant.”20
But Rifkin, whose book bears the prophetic title Time
Wars, sees a battle looming, along with the emergence of a
“new time politics” that rejects the notion of exerting power
over time. In the vanguard of the rebellion against “power
time” are the environmental movement, the holistic health
movement, the animal rights movement, the eco-feminist
movement, the disarmament movement, among others —
groups whose interest “is in redirecting the human conscious-
ness toward a more empathetic union with the rhythms of
nature.” They believe that “it is by revaluing the time of each
other and by understanding and accepting the inherent pace,

tempo, and duration of the natural world that we can offer
our species the best hope for the future.” Rifkin predicts that
these new “time heretics” will become a political force to
reckon with as “the politics of territory” is joined by “the
politics of temporality.”21
Rifkin’s book ends with a series of choices: “To will
autonomy or to will community. To exercise power or to
experience empathy. To control an artificial temporality or to

rejoin the rhythmic world that is imprinted deep into the soul
of our biological being. In the final analysis, we must ask
what we want out of our future. Do we seek rulership or rev-
elation? Mastery or self-discovery? Two futures await us,
each accompanied by its own temporal mandate. The will to
power, the will to empathy. The choice is ours. The time is
now.”22
I quote the paragraph in full because, while describing a
choice that looms ahead, it also perfectly delineates the differ-
ences that already exist between “the West and the rest” —
between the clock-obsessed, cold-climate culture derived
from northern Europe and the slow-moving, nature-centered,
and typically warm-climate cultures that prevail elsewhere
around the globe.
“HAD WE BUT WORLD ENOUGH”:

A NOTE ON SPACE
When we begin to consider attitudes toward space, or terri-

tory, from a cross-cultural perspective, we quickly run up
against Robert Ardrey, who, in his landmark book The
Territorial Imperative, argues persuasively that territoriality
is “characteristic of our species as a whole.” Moreover, he
says, when we exhibit territorial behavior, “we act as we do
for reasons of our evolutionary past, not our cultural present,

and our behavior is as much a mark of our species as is the
shape of a human thigh bone or the configuration of nerves
in the corner of the human brain.”
But Ardrey is not writing cultural anthropology, and
nowhere does he assert that every human culture manifests
territoriality in the same degree. On the contrary, he suggests
that territoriality, like all human behavior, is motivated by

three innate needs — identity, stimulation, and security —
and that the extent of any given need “will vary from species
to species, population to population, group to group, individ-
ual to individual.”23
With this in mind, I propose that the culture of the West,
as in the other areas we have investigated, sets itself apart in
its attitude toward territory. I believe that Western man’s atti-
tude toward space, like his concept of time, as a function of
his deep urge for control — a need generated by his fight to
survive in the cold climate of northeastern Europe.
Habitable space was limited in this topography of high, rug-
ged mountains. If you did find a little piece of productive
land, you needed, first, to hold onto it; second, to work it
hard as weather permitted; and third, if possible, to expand
it. Perhaps here, at least in part, is the root of the strong sense
of territoriality that seems to characterize the Western psyche.
How fitting that Robert Frost’s famous line, “Good fences
make good neighbors,” came from a New Englander.
But is the West really different in this regard? Well, for
some anecdotal evidence, watch four Americans go into an
elevator. They will head to the four corners every time, giving
each one as much space as possible. Four Asians will all
crowd into the same corner. We see here two very different
concepts of space here — another difference, I believe, that
may be rooted in climate.
In the West, space is about ownership: this is my chair, my

room, my backyard. Ownership confers control. And like
time, space is a resource: the more you have, the better.
Wasted space is just as bad as wasted time. We want our
space, like our time, to be used efficiently. Many times, we
decide that nature’s use of space is not efficient enough.
Hall makes the interesting observation that while our cul-
ture “has developed … territoriality to an almost unbeliev-
able extent, [y]et we treat space somewhat as we treat sex. It

is there but we don’t talk about it.” For some unknown rea-
son, he says, our culture has tended to cause us to repress our
possessive attitude about space. “We relegate it to the infor-
mal and are likely to feel guilty whenever we find ourselves
getting angry because someone has taken our place.”24 Isn’t
that fascinating? It’s true, too. We talk about time, about the
weather, but not so much about space. Hall attributes this to
an “unknown reason,” but I have a suggestion. Time belongs
to you as much as to me, and I can’t spend anyone’s time
except my own. You see how very different space is. When
I claim mine, I deprive you of it. So “stay out of my back-
yard” is a very different utterance from “I’ve only got ten
minutes” because you also have the same ten minutes. Hall
notes that we feel guilty when we say, “Stay out of my back-
yard.” I believe this is because our acquisitiveness, while
deeply ingrained in our Western psyche, is not the trait we’re
proudest of.
What about other cultures? Anthropologist Benjamin
Whorf discovered that among the Hopi Indians, concepts of
space are reflected in the language. Remarkably, there are no
exact terms for interior three-dimensional spaces — such as
words for room, chamber, hall, passage, interior, cell, crypt,
cellar, attic, loft, and vault. This despite the fact that the
Hopi do have multiroom dwellings and even use the rooms
for special purposes such as storage or grinding corn.
Moreover, insofar as such terms can be identified, they are

not really nouns and cannot be combined with a possessive
pronoun.25
In other words, the Hopi would have a hard time saying,
“Get out of my room.” Maybe he would be able to say, “Get
out of my face,” but it is unlikely that he would want to.
Everyone has noticed the lack of regard for “personal space”
that seems to be characteristic of warmer-climate cultures, a
cultural trait that sometimes works to the discomfort of

uptight, space-conscious Westerners. Hall has documented
that the “interaction distance” is much less in Latin America,
for example, than in the United States. Latin Americans, he
says, “cannot talk comfortably with one another unless they
are very close to the distance that evokes either sexual or hos-
tile feelings in the North American. The result is that when
they move close, we withdraw and back away. As a conse-
quence, they think we are distant or cold, withdrawn and
unfriendly. We, on the other hand, are constantly accusing
them of breathing down our necks, crowding us, and spray-
ing our faces.”26
Another warm-climate culture, the Bushmen of the
Kalahari, apparently have a similar lack of regard for per-
sonal space. Patricia Draper, writing in Science magazine
compares the noxious effects of overcrowding in industrial
urban societies with the voluntarily crowded living conditions
of the !Kung. “The human press in !Kung camps is clearly
extreme,” Draper writes. “The campsites themselves are
tightly packed, and the absence of physical barriers combined
with the circular arrangement of inward-facing huts means,
effectively, that approximately 30 people are living in a single
room.” But among the !Kung these close quarters pose no
problem because, as Draper notes, these people apparently
like being close together, even touching. “As people sit in
camp, resting, talking, and doing chores, they prefer to gather
in knots or clumps, leaning against each other, their arms

brushing, their crossed legs overlapping.”
Again, it’s our theory that the West’s territorial imperative
is rooted in the same climatic conditions that gave rise to
agriculture and therefore made the land itself a critical
resource. With a limited amount of arable land in northern
Europe, each farmer wanted to “own” as much as he could
work productively. The hunter-gatherers of the Kalahari feel
no such compulsion. As Draper points out, “groups with an

average size of 30 to 40 people were typically separated by
15 or more miles.”
Draper goes on to suggest that perhaps the various “social
pathologies” that appear to result from high urban densities
may at least in part be caused by “stranger density” — that
is, being packed in with people you don’t know. Put another
way, the individualist Western psyche, with its ingrained
sense of space ownership, is disturbed at having to share
space with strangers — that is, with others in competition for
the same space. The !Kung, on the other hand, not only lack
the psychic need to own space, but, as a collectivist rather
than an individualist society, don’t feel threatened by “the
other.” In fact, because of their extended family/band organi-
zational structure, “!Kung rarely encounter strangers, and
when such meetings do occur, the parties can readily establish
a basis for cooperation by establishing a genealogical
connection.”27
Territoriality, as Robert Ardrey would no doubt agree, is
a matter of protecting the balance between resources and
population. The shift to an agricultural mode of production
in the Fertile Crescent ten thousand years ago caused a popu-
lation explosion and the consequent expansion of civilization
into northern Europe. But as we have noted, climatically and
geographically, northern Europe’s agricultural resources
were not especially abundant. A territorial crisis was in the
making. Jared Diamond asks why the Europeans conquered

the New World, rather than the other way around, and his
own answer is that it was the Europeans who had “guns,
germs, and steel.” But at least to some extent it was the terri-
torial squeeze that prompted the technological development.
In Cannibals and Kings, Marvin Harris writes that “all
the important technological changes introduced in England
between 1500 and 1830 were made under duress and in

direct response either to resource shortages or to population
growth and relentless reproductive pressures. Behind the
whole process was an increasingly acute scarcity of agricul-
tural land which forced people into manufacturing and
town-based means of making their livelihood. The periods of
greatest technological innovation were those of greatest
population increase, highest cost of living, and the greatest
amount of suffering among the poor.”
The crux of the matter is that thanks to a process Harris
calls “intensification” — the investment of more soil, water,
minerals, or energy per unit to time of area — the industrial-
ized West continues to exist in a state of chronic and acute
resource shortage, ever whetting its territorial impulse. To
illustrate, Harris explains how food production today has
become totally dependent on oil. “Agricultural traction, lift-
ing, hauling, and transport were captured first. Now we have
reached the stage where the conditioning of the soil through
chemical fertilizers and the defense of plants through herbi-
cides, pesticides, insecticides, and fungicides have also
become totally dependent on an ever-increasing supply of pet-
rochemicals.” The green revolution, he says, is really an oil
revolution, in which higher crop yields have been made possi-
ble “by continuous injections of vast amounts of fossil fuel
energy into the production of plant varieties specially bred
for their ability to respond to petrochemical inputs.”28
Before taking up the very particular case of oil in the year

2017, let us return briefly to Robert Ardrey and his medita-
tion upon Japan’s bombing of Pearl Harbor. His point is that
because in December of 1941 the United States had little
inclination to enter the war against Germany and absolutely
no inclination to make war on Japan, the Japanese attack
was a colossal military blunder. It aroused the territorial
instinct of the sleeping American giant and eventually

brought about Japan’s devastating defeat.
Looking back on it, Ardrey writes, “We tend today, with
the equanimity of hindsight, to dismiss the Japanese com-
mand as a shipload of fools, and to shrug off the events of
Pearl Harbor as the simple consequences of a simple if incred-
ible blunder.” But Ardrey points out that, indeed, the whole
story of World War II “was a dizzying sequence of similar
blunders,” and that, worse yet, we have apparently learned
nothing. Writing in 1966, when the American policy in
Vietnam was one of “escalation,” Ardrey observes that “if
the Japanese command was a shipload of fools, then ours is
no less.”
Here is the lesson, in Ardrey’s words: “The principal cause
of modern warfare arises from the failure of an intruding
power correctly to estimate the defensive resources of a terri-
torial defender.”29 Surely the fall of Saigon in 1975, the
40,000 American dead, the utter failure of our war on North
Vietnam would have taught America that lesson.
But did it? This is not the time to argue politics for or
against the current war in Iraq, for or against war in
Afghanistan. I merely draw the obvious line from (a) the histor-
ically keen territorial impulse of the West to (b) the implacable
mandate for adequate natural resources to (c) the oil-rich
Middle East. It already seems quite evident that the United
States woefully underestimated the “defensive resources” of the
particular “territorial defender” known as Iraq. What will be

the upshot?
Am I suggesting that climate was responsible for the U.S.
invasion of Iraq? No — at least not directly. What I am sug-
gesting is that in its attitudes toward both time and space, the
Western mind shows proclivities that may be rooted in cli-
mate. There was no low-hanging fruit waiting for the early
agriculturalists in northern Europe. The earth had to be

forced to give up its bounty, and, thanks to a relatively short
growing season, time had to be mastered. When it came to
the technologies that would constitute the Industrial
Revolution in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, neces-
sity was literally the mother of invention.
I believe there is a connection between the inhospitable
climate of northern Europe and the need to control — to con-
trol both time and territory — that seems so fundamental to
the Western psyche. How that same climate may have helped
shape other aspects of the Western man — particularly his
elevation of the individual over the group and his attitude
toward nature — will be the subject of the following
chapters.
NOTES
1. Brislin and Eugene (2003).

2. Lewis Mumford (1934, 1963).
3. Robert (1997). For Levine’s discussion of the evolution
of “clock time,” see Chapter 3, pp. 51 80.
4. A Geography of Time, Chapter 4, pp. 81 100.
5. Levine, pp. 99 100.
6. Levine, pp. 17 18. The author also discusses his “pace

of life” experiment in Chapter 6, pp. 129 152.
7. Levine, pp. 12 14.
8. Levine, pp. 155 156.
9. Rifkin (1987).
10. Rifkin, pp. 196 197.
11. Hall (1969, 1973).

12. Huntington (1971).
13. Hall, p. 25.
14. Hall, p. 154.
15. Levine, pp. 41 44, 91.
16. Hall, p. 9.
17. Rifkin, p. 51.
18. Thomas (2001).
19. Jarosz (1994, Oct).
20. Rifkin, p. 97, 192.
21. Rifkin, pp. 4 5.
22. Rifkin, p. 210.
23. Ardrey (1966).
24. Hall, pp. 163 164.
25. Cited in Hall, p. 173.
26. Hall, p. 185.
27. Draper (1973, Oct).
28. Harris (1977).
29. Ardrey, pp. 231, 236.
FIVE
INDIVIDUALISM AND
COLLECTIVISM
DEFINITIONS
Social psychologist Harry Triandis has devoted much of his

distinguished career exploring the distinction between these
two cultural modes, so let’s begin with his definition:
“Collectivism may be initially defined as a social pattern con-
sisting of closely linked individuals who see themselves as
parts of one or more collectives (family, co-workers, tribe,
nation); are primarily motivated by the norms of, and duties
imposed by those collectives; are willing to give priority to
the goals of these collectives over their own personal goals;
and emphasize their connectedness to members of these col-
lectives.” Elaborating further, Triandis proposes that “collec-
tivism includes (1) emphasis on the views, needs, and goals of
the ingroup rather than on the self; (2) emphasis on behavior
determined by social norms and duties rather than by plea-
sure or personal advantage; (3) common beliefs that are
shared with the ingroup; and (4) willingness to cooperate
with ingroup members.”
153
Though he eventually describes many others, Triandis ini-

tially cites the great Eastern civilizations of Japan and China
as outstanding examples of collectivist societies. In both
countries, he writes, “individualism is a pejorative term.” He
recalls that during his stay in Beijing in 1988, he read in the
local English-language press about an incident in which a stu-
dent had clear symptoms of schizophrenia. He was initially
deemed “‘too individualistic’ but after becoming dangerous
was diagnosed as mentally ill.”

So what is individualism? Triandis describes it as “a social
pattern that consists of loosely linked individuals who view
themselves as independent of collectives; are primarily moti-
vated by their own preferences, needs, rights, and the con-
tracts they have established with others; give priority to their
personal goals over the goals of others; and emphasize ratio-
nal analyses of the advantages and disadvantages to associat-
ing with others.”1
As we intimated in the previous chapter, the most decid-
edly individualist cultures are those of Western Europe and
the United States. As Triandis puts it, “Individualism ... is
found mostly in Europe and North America.... Collectivism
is ... found in most of the rest of the world. Thus we usually
have the contrast between ‘the West’ and ‘the rest’.” To per-
fectly epitomize the cultural philosophy of the West, Triandis
recalls a comment from the “classic individualist” Margaret
Thatcher, as reported on NPR: “There is no society; there are
only individuals and their families.”2
Cultural anthropologists and social scientists universally
agree that the West is the locus of individualism. According
to Robert Levine, “The United States is a classic individualis-
tic culture. Traditional Asia, on the other hand, tends to
focus on the collective.” Levine goes on to note that “many
cross-cultural psychologists believe that the individualism-
collectivism continuum is, in fact, the single most significant
Individualism and Collectivism 155
characteristic of the social patterns of a culture.”3 Again, as

Geert Hofstede observes in Culture’s Consequences, individu-
alism is a product of “Western individualist thought.” For
Mao Tse-tung, on the other hand, “individualism is evil.
Individualism and liberalism, for Mao, are manifest in the
selfishness and aversion to discipline characteristic of the
petty bourgeoisie.”4
Of course, it doesn’t take a lifetime of academic study to
reach the conclusion that the West is an individualist culture.

Individualist values are written into America’s Declaration of
Independence: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Individual success is extolled in business, politics, sports,
entertainment. Everyone is encouraged to have his or her
own dream. Even Henry David Thoreau, who would cer-
tainly be aghast at many aspects of contemporary Western
culture, noted the wisdom of walking to the beat of “a differ-
ent drummer.” Only a profoundly individualist culture could
come up with a catchphrase like “the Me Generation.”
But why is it that the West evolved in the direction of indi-
vidualism? How did it happen? Yes, I believe that climate
played a role. But before returning to that possibility, let’s
consider some others (Fig. 5.1).
One interesting explanation is Joseph Campbell’s theory
that the shift from collectivism to individualism occurred in
the West after the Middle Ages with the popularity of the
myths of Tristan and Parzifal. “For the first time in human
history,” as Triandis glosses Campbell, ‘“love’ became the
basis of the union of men and women, as opposed to consid-
erations that served the group. This particular individualism
emerged in the northern and western regions of Europe and
eventually led to a secular individualism that is very different
from the religious collectivism of the ‘Levantine East’ (Jews,
Christians, and Muslims).” Triandis sees this movement as
evidence of a much more profound philosophical current:

that the basis of human understanding of the world became

experience instead of authority. “Many of the fundamental
attitudes of the modern world are consequences of the view
that experience has priority when it conflicts with authority.
If the authorities say that the world is flat, and if we see the
ships’ masts rising on the horizon and have other such experi-
ences that indicate the world is round, we simply reject the
views of the authorities.”
Romantic love is certainly an individualist phenomenon,
especially when contrasted against the arranged marriages
typical of collectivist societies. But love may be more a symp-
tom than a cause of the West’s individualist psychology.
Triandis moves closer to my own take when he looks fur-
ther back, to the genesis of civilization. “As societies move
from hunting and gathering to agriculture to being modern
industrial and information societies,” he writes, “the advan-
tages of group life first increase and then fade. As the advan-
tages fade, behavior becomes more formal, trading becomes a
common activity (hence market pricing), and contracts

become important.”
Behavior becomes more a function of short-term factors
(geographic mobility makes this natural) than of long-term
ones. Triandis concludes that “changes in ecology (how peo-
ple make a living), affluence, mobility (both social and geo-
graphic), and movement from rural to urban settings
contribute to changes from collectivism to individualism.”5
We have been arguing all along that the climate change

that pushed agricultural civilization westward into northern
and western Europe had much to do with the evolution of
the Western psyche, that survival in this cooler climate called
for effort, skill, and ingenuity in devising means to enhance
agricultural production Triandis merely refines this notion.
His argument is that agriculture begins as a collectivist
endeavor, and that only when agriculture became an “indus-
try” (with a trade-based economy and technological improve-
ments in production) did the West begin to develop its
individualist complexion. I like that line of reasoning, actu-
ally, and even though Triandis does not assign climate any
role in the West’s evolution toward individualism, it’s inter-
esting to note the collectivist societies he mentions by way of
contrast: the Philippines, traditional Greece, Latin America,
Hispanic Americans, India, Africa south of the Sahara,
Arabs, and Balinese. Needless to say, these are by and large
warm-climate cultures.
Hofstede’s “Individualism Index,” created through
exhaustive research in 40 nations, adds to the evidence for a
climate-based differentiation between individualist and collec-
tivist societies. He found the highest Individualism Index
(IDV) values in the United States, Australia, and Great
Britain, and the lowest in Venezuela, Colombia, and
Pakistan. Moreover, although he finds the strongest correla-
tion between “economic development” and individualism
(i.e., the West versus the rest), he considers climate important

as well, in that it may either “support or discourage individ-
ual initiative.” For the record, here are the characteristics
that, according to Hofstede, distinguish low-IDV from high-
IDV cultures:
• In society, people are born into extended families or clans

which protect them in exchange for loyalty (vs. concern for
oneself and one’s immediate family);
• “We” consciousness (vs. “I” consciousness);
• Identity is based in the social system (vs. based in

individual);
• Emotional dependence of individual on organizations and

institutions (vs. emotional independence);
• Less economical development (vs. more);
• Tropical and subtropical climates (vs. moderate to cold

climates);
• More traditional agriculture, less modern industry, less

urbanization (vs. more modern industry and urbanization);
• Extended family or tribal structure (vs. nuclear family).6
A circular, self-perpetuating system appears to have been set

in motion as the West developed its distinctive individualist
personality. This is a point we’ll return to, but in the mean-
time, consider the human rights issues (minority rights,
women’s rights, workers’ rights, gay rights, indigenous peo-
ple’s rights) that remain so fundamental to Western con-
sciousness. It may be that litigiousness is an unexplored
feature of individualist culture. In any case, as “rights” are
sought and won, they continue to be elevated as a Western
ideal toward which more people reach, even at the cost of
more traditional (and sometimes collectivist) values. Triandis
mentions one study’s conclusion that “women’s participation

in the labor force leads inevitably to lower commitment to
marriage and the home environment, which ‘individualizes’
women. One can argue that this has happened in all indus-
trial countries except Japan and may be a further example of
shifts toward individualism in most industrial democracies.”
It’s amusing to note that one of the rights people in the
West insist fervently upon is the right to buy things. Triandis
notes the rise of individualism in East Germany had much to

do with the fall of the Berlin Wall, and he argues that “con-
sumerism, with its emphasis on choice among products,” fed
into this growing cultural change “as the East Germans
watched West German television advertising goods they were
deprived of.” Or, as Rosebeth Cantor, the wife of the
Hungarian minister of culture, explained to a Western visitor,
“Communism came down because we all wanted to go
shopping!”7
THE FAMILY UNIT
One of the clearest lines of demarcation between individualist

and collectivist cultures can be seen in the concept of the fam-
ily: individualist cultures generally favor the nuclear family,
while extended families are typical of collectivist cultures.
In looking at the evolution of family structure, Hofstede
echoes Triandis’ theory that the transition from hunting/
gathering to agriculture is toward collectivism, and that
movement from agriculture to industry is in the direction of
individualism: “Very traditional hunting-gathering tribes tend
to live in nuclear families,” he writes. “In more complex agri-
cultural societies, people tend to live in extended families,
clans, or tribal units. However, as agricultural societies
develop toward still more complex urban-industrial societies,
family complexity decreases again and extended families dis-

integrate into nuclear families, while grandparents are sent to
homes for the aged and single relatives lead solitary lives.”8
For Triandis, the individualist impulse at the heart of the
nuclear family was epitomized by the documentary film It
Was a Wonderful Life, which described the lives of homeless
women in California. It turns out that almost all of them
were formerly middle class or even upper-middle class, and
that one of them, a painter, even had an honorary degree.

For a variety of reasons, they were all now without any
means of support. “These women were too proud to ask for
public assistance,” says Triandis, “and received no help from
their children, even when the children knew about their con-
dition. As a result hey slept in their cars or wherever they
were able to find shelter.” Triandis deems the situation of
these women “a classic consequence of an individualistic
society.”9
Joseph Campbell’s theory about the elevation of the ideal
of romantic love in the West after the Middle Ages is perti-
nent here, since the family begins with marriage. It’s easy to
see that in the individualist West, marriage is essentially
between the bride and groom. We may hope to “get along”
with the in-laws; we may even aspire to becoming “one big
happy family.” But even if the families vehemently object,
we, like Romeo and Juliet, get married anyway. Finally, it’s
“our business.”
How different from collectivist cultures, where the entire
extended family often lives together or in close proximity. In
Tibet and Nepal, says Robert Levine, families not only live
together, but “it is common for brothers to share the same
wife an economically convenient arrangement for Sherpas
(porters) who spend most of their lives away from home. In
some collectivist cultures, the sense of family extends toward
the entire village, or even the national ‘tribe’.”10 This
observation is vividly borne out in the recent novel The

Namesake, by Pulitzer Prize-winning India-born author
Jhumpa Lahiri: as young Gogol Ganguli grows up in the sub-
urbs of Cambridge, Massachusetts, thousands of miles away
from his parents’ real families, his birthday parties are
attended by every Bengali family for miles around. In
America, they have become relatives.11
In collectivist societies, marriage is a community affair;

families are enlarged, clans united, ties strengthened.
Marriage ceremonies are opportunities for the gift-giving that
seals these bonds, where individual generosity supports com-
munal well-being.
According to anthropologist Karl Rambo, the Simbu peo-
ple of Papua New Guinea typify this collectivist spirit.
“Members of any single clan must find marriage partners
outside their own clan,” says Rambo. “Through marriage,
clan members are linked by kinship to members of other
clans in their own tribe as well as to people in clans in other
tribes. These political, economic, and social links between
people are created and maintained through a complex web of
ceremonial exchanges of valuables [or prestations].”
Beyond whatever specific event they celebrate (a marriage,
a funeral, a harvest) these gift-exchange ceremonies say much
about social life, about the cardinal importance of “relation-
ships,” in collectivist societies. Rambo writes that in the larg-
est of these ceremonies, called bugla ingu and held once every
seven to ten years, “entire clans and tribes organize to hold a
series of gift prestations culminating in an enormous pig kill,
in which thousands of pigs are killed, cooked, and given
away to visiting friends and relatives. For the Simbu, main-
taining good social relationships with others, both within and
outside the patrilineal clans, is inseparable from such gift
exchanges.”
In the West, of course, the obligations of the bride’s father

to the now extended “clan” end as soon as he pays the bill
for the wedding reception, and the obligations of the young
couple end as soon as they’ve written thank-you notes for all
the gifts they’ve received. Among the Simbu, says Rambo,
“although there is a general expectation that the recipient
will reciprocate with a return presentation at an unspecified
future date (and therefore continue the relationship), the pur-
pose of participating in such exchanges is not to maximize a

material return from the original gift. In fact, the opposite is
closer to reality. Great prestige is gained by giving valuables
to an exchange partner.” The whole point, then, is not to
“get,” but “to maximize prestige in the community by partic-
ipating often and generously in the many prestations.”12
Marriage and family customs reflect the deeper cultural
rift implicit in the very terms we are using: individualism and
collectivism. The nuclear family in individualist cultures is
defined by the individual couple — the man and wife. They
effectively sever ties with their parents in order to join
together, just as their children will eventually sever ties with
them. In the extended family of collectivist societies, no line
can be drawn between the young couple and the families they
represent, and the ceremony itself can only be understood in
a collectivist context. Connections are being forged rather
than severed.
These generalizations are obvious, yet nonetheless valu-
able in that they offer a lens through which to perceive and
understand so much that goes on in the world today. As
Triandis points out, one of the attitudes we see reflected in
these marriage and family arrangements is that history is
more important to collectivists than to individualists.
“Collectivists see themselves as links in a long chain that con-
sists of ancestors and descendants. In fact, in collectivist cul-
tures people usually can trace their lineage for hundreds,
sometimes thousands of years. This rarely occurs among indi-

vidualists. The individualist is in the center of the stage-what
comes before and after is more or less irrelevant.”13
If this is true — and we have little reason to doubt it —
consider how much it says about the position of the United
States in the global affairs of the day: A country with rela-
tively little history of its own, and with no regard for any-
body else’s history, trying to foist its values, sometimes rather
aggressively, upon the rest of the world. No wonder America

finds itself the target of so much resentment and hostility
around the world.
THE “HAPPINESS” QUOTIENT
Let’s return for a second to the young Western couple who

decide to get married over their families’ objections. Why do
they do it? Because they’re in love. Because being together
makes them “happy.” Perhaps we may then infer that happi-
ness itself is a characteristic of the Western psyche, or, at
least, that it is a more central ideal in individualist than in
collectivist cultures. In fact, Robert Levine’s “pace of life”
study comes to precisely that conclusion. “Since our own
study found a very strong relationship between economic
vitality and the pace of life,” Levine writes, “we hypothesized
that this should also lead to a positive relationship between
the pace of life and happiness. And this is exactly what we
found: in all of our pace-of-life experiments, people in faster
places were more likely to be satisfied with their lives.”
But Levine has already pointed out the hazards of the
fast-paced life, especially stress and heart disease. How does
he explain the contradiction? “Cultures that emphasize
productivity and making money typically create a sense of
time urgency and a value system that fosters individualistic
thinking; and that time urgency and individualism in turn

make for a productive economy. These forces — economic
vitality, individualism, and time urgency — have both posi-
tive and negative consequences for people’s well-being. On
the one hand, they create the stressors that lead to unhealthy
habits like cigarette smoking and coronary heart disease. On
the other hand, they provide material comforts and a general
standard of living that enhance the quality of life.”14
If the implication of Levine’s argument is that the West is

in some way superior to “the rest” because it scores higher
on the happiness quotient, let’s take a closer look. For exam-
ple, Triandis admits that a number of studies have found
“strong correlations between individualism and a sense of
subjective well-being.” He points out that collectivist cultures
like Japan, South Korea, and China had lower happiness and
life satisfaction scores than individualistic countries, even
after income was statistically controlled. But isn’t this a bit
like saying that the cat who catches mice all day is happier
than the dog asleep in front of the fire? What if the dog
doesn’t want to catch mice?
Triandis cites one study in which almost 10 percent of the
Chinese sample said that they had never thought about
whether or not they were “happy” until they were asked this
question. Similarly, a respondent in India, when asked if she
was “happy,” replied, “I do not know; ask my husband.”
“In other words,” Triandis rightly concludes, “happiness
appears to be an individualistic concept.”15
Edward Hall comes to a similar conclusion in reviewing
the work of M.I.T. sociologist Daniel Lerner, who discovered
when he interviewed villagers in Turkey that the idea of
achieving happiness did not mean anything to them. As Hall
remarks, “It had never entered their mind that happiness was
one of the things you had a right to expect from life and
might strive to achieve. This does not mean that these
villagers never have happy moments. Quite to the contrary. It

just means that their culture does not include this isolate.”16
Perhaps happiness is a need in individualist cultures.
Perhaps individualism fosters a sense of alienation, or loss, or
anxiety from which happiness (“material comforts”) offers
some relief. Maybe day-to-day life in collectivist cultures to
some extent obviates the pursuit of happiness for its own
sake. According to Triandis, research among Hispanics pro-
vides evidence that collectivists expect life in general to be

pleasant. In this case, the Hispanics in the sample “antici-
pated higher probabilities of positive behaviors and lower
probabilities of negative behaviors occurring in most social
situations.” They lived, in other words, according to the sim-
patia cultural script. As Triandis explains, “a person tries to
be simpatico, that is, agreeable, pleasant, attractive, and non-
critical. The same phenomenon has been found among East
Asian collectivists, who emphasize ingroup harmony and
acceptance of hierarchy in social behavior.”17
Even Levine appears to admit that collectivist cultures
have a value system that makes little room for the Western
concept of happiness. The collectivist “focus on people”
rather than on the self, he points out, is often at odds with
the fast-paced tempo that allows the hard-driving Westerner
to achieve his happiness. “In some collectivist cultures,”
Levine writes, “time urgency is not only deemphasized but
treated with downright hostility.” He cites the work of
anthropologist Pierre Bourdieu among the Kabyle people, a
collectivist society in Algeria. The Kabyle “want nothing to
do with speed,” writes Levine. “They despise any semblance
of haste in their social affairs, regarding it as a ‘lack of
decorum combined with diabolical ambition’. The clock is
referred to as ‘the devil’s mill’!”
Remarkably similar in this regard are the Kelantese people
of the Malay Peninsula, who also consider haste a breach of
ethics. Levine writes that the Kelantese are judged by a set of

rules for proper behavior known as budi bahasa, or the “lan-
guage of character.” At the heart of this code is “a willing-
ness to take the time for social obligations, for visiting and
paying respect to friends, relatives and neighbors.” Rushing
around “smacks of greed and too much concern for material
possessions,” attitudes that “threaten basic village values con-
cerning interpersonal relations and village solidarity.”18
IN THE WORKPLACE: COMPETITION

OR COOPERATION?
The concept of happiness spills into the workplace, obvi-

ously, since it is through achievement and success at work
(promotions, pay raises, rising status, and power) that the
Westerner typically finds his happiness. In the West, more-
over, success at work is typically achieved through competi-
tion. I outperformed you, so I got the promotion, the pay
increase, the bigger office, the new title, the Lexus, the sum-
mer home on the coast of Maine.
We in the West are so conditioned to this competitive
mindset that we have difficulty imagining any other way to
structure behavior. In fact, the value of competition is incul-
cated even in childhood. Long before we begin to work com-
petitively, we play competitively. We want to run faster,
jump higher, throw the ball further. In short, we want to win.
Our parents, in a sane moment, may have reminded us that
what finally matters is not winning and losing but “how we
play the game.” But let’s not be deceived. Today’s media is
full of stories about parent violence at their children’s sport-
ing events. Even our so-called “team” sports promote a
“star” culture, where individual players bask in adulation.
Most young athletes imagine themselves scoring the winning
touchdown, rather than throwing the block that allowed the

running back to score.
In startling contrast, consider the Mbuti pygmies of Zaire
in Central Africa (a tropical environment, by the way). In
studying this society, anthropologist Colin Turnbull was
especially interested in the acculturation of the children.
“Mbuti children could be seen every day playing in the bopi
[communal play area],” Turnbull writes, “but not once did
I see a game, not one activity that smacked of any kind of

competition, except perhaps that competition that it is neces-
sary for us all to feel from time to time, competition with
our own private and personal inadequacies.” Typical of their
play was their game of tree climbing. “A dozen or so children
would climb up a young sapling. Reaching the top, their
weight brought the sapling bending down until it almost
touched the ground. Then all the children leapt off together,
shrieking as the young tree sprang upright again with a rush.”
Other pastimes taught the children useful lessons: the rules
for hunting and gathering, keeping house — in all cases pat-
terns of cooperation rather than competition. As Turnbull
notes, “They also learned the prime lesson of egality, other
than for purposes of division of labor making no distinction
between male and female, this nuclear family or that.” At
every age level — children, youth, adulthood, or old age —
everyone of that level is apua ‘i-i.e., equal-to all the others.
“Male or female, for the Mbuti, if you are the same age you
are apua’i, and that means that you share everything equally,
regardless of kinship of gender.”19
Hall noted a similar phenomenon among the Pueblo of
New Mexico (another warm-climate culture). Since play
among Westerners so often involves competition, says Hall,
“games among the Pueblo ... even races, seem very strange to
us because they may involve an old man and a little boy in
the same race with young men. The function of the race is
not to beat someone else but only to ‘do one’s very best’.”20
Of course, it’s easy to dismiss a couple “minor” cultures
around the globe that deviate from the Western norm, but
perhaps we should proceed with caution. After all, Triandis
tells us that, worldwide, 70 percent of cultures are collectivist
and only 30 percent are individualist. Isn’t that a remarkable
statistic? And it’s my contention that much of that 70 percent
can be found in warm climates — indeed, in those same cul-

tures where time runs slower and the Western obsession with
efficiency is less in evidence.
As the world becomes globalized, the significance of this
cultural divide can scarcely be exaggerated. On the one hand,
we have the West, where competition is the norm, and where
by besting his peers the individual distinguishes himself. On
the other hand, we have the other 70 percent of the world,
where cooperation is favored, and where the relationships
among the workers are of paramount importance As Triandis
puts it, “The ideal American of the middle and upper class is
‘distinguished,’ that is, has had great accomplishments. In
Japan the ideal person is the one with a large number of suc-
cessful relationships with others.”21
The American executive, looking at his counterpart across
the negotiating table, wonders, “How much can I get out of
this guy? How good a deal can I make for myself and my
company?” The Chinese executive in the same situation is
more likely to wonder, “What is the guanxi (relationship)
between us? What kind of deal will strengthen our guanxi?”
This is why (as we noted in the previous chapter) so much
office time in collectivist cultures seems to be spent on social-
izing. Socializing leads to relationship development, and the
relationships lead to the sort of cooperation that lubricates
the wheels of business. As Richard Brislin and Eugene Kim
have pointed out, “In collectivist cultures, work gets done
through webs of relationships. In China, such webs are part

of one’s guanxi, or relationships with important others who
can grant favors.”22 Triandis adds that “There is little need
for much socialization into the job in the case of individual-
ists and much need in the case of collectivists, who must
generate a common culture that will coordinate their
activities.”23
Look at the far-flung community of Chinese, or Indians,
or Jews all over the world. They do tremendous business

within their own ranks, their own “tribes.” This is the
essence of the network economy, in which connections mean
everything. We are only now beginning to learn in the
Western academic world that maybe the network economy is
an improvement upon the “us-against-them” model.
In the global workplace, Triandis advises that collectivists
are likely to find individualists too competitive. Collectivists
“need to be warned that competition is important in vertical
individualism. They also need to be trained to understand the
individualist tendency to define status as a function of specific
accomplishments; individualists might need to be trained to
pay more attention to group memberships as definers of
status.”
Along the same lines, individualists need to understand
that in business dealings with collectivists, a handshake is as
valid as a signed document. This is simply another aspect of
the “relationship” mentality; deals should strengthen rela-
tionships, not threaten them. The Westerner, on the other
hand, must have the legal document; otherwise, he fears he
might be taken advantage of. We believe in the rule of law,
and so we have well-paid lawyers and lengthy contracts. But
in our negotiations with the Middle East and Asia, verbal
agreements are every bit as valid as signed contracts.
For example, consider the cut (or finished) diamond busi-
ness. This huge industry, once the province of the Orthodox
or Hasidic Jews, has now to a large extent passed into the

hands of the Indians. But the point is, because both of these
are collectivist cultures, the business continues to be run
informally, on handshakes and verbal agreements. Traders
move millions of dollars of diamonds from one to another
with nothing in writing — no written agreements at all. Why
isn’t the business corrupted? Because the enforcement is
social. If you cheat on your verbal agreement, you are cast
out of the society. You have severed your relationships. You

have no more “tribal” support.
In international deal-making, Triandis suggests that collec-
tivists need to pay more attention to contracts, signatures,
and the written word than is commonly done in their cul-
tures. As a longtime professor, he has an interesting take on
problems that can arise from a cavalier attitude toward legal
niceties. “Foreign student advisers in the United States,” he
writes, “sometimes have to extricate collectivist students from
contractual relationships they did not intend. The student, for
instance, may see five apartments and write to all five land-
lords telling them that he is interested in the apartment,
thinking that the landlords will simply hold the apartment
until the student can consult his friends and decided which
one to take. In the meantime, the five landlords think that
they have a deal.”
As I see it, it all comes back to the fetish for control that
characterizes the Western psyche. The West has little toler-
ance for risk or uncertainly. The businessman wants his
signed contract, and the longer it is the better. He wants it
to cover every contingency; he wants to leave nothing to
chance. Again, I believe the roots of this compulsion lie in the
relative scarcity of natural resources in the colder climate of
Northern Europe: competition, control, maximized produc-
tion, efficiency — it looks like all part of the same package to
me. And again I see interesting implications for the
development of global business theory. Along with the “net-

work economy,” maybe there is also a new theory of business
management on the horizon. The West’s philosophy has
traditionally been “orchestration”: we are in charge, and we
must exert control. Timing is everything. Schedules and dead-
lines are decrees from God. Perhaps the new management
theory, like the Indian wedding, will be a matter of “improvi-
sation,” where the business deal is allowed to take its own
shape, in its own time.

Triandis has the West’s control mania in mind when he
advises collectivists at the cross-cultural negotiating table “to
learn not to take too long before starting the business of the
meeting, lest the individualist interprets it as ‘wasting my
time’.” At the same time, “the individualist has to be trained
to slow down and engage in more preliminary interactions
before jumping into the business discussion.”
Yet another business issue on which individualists and col-
lectivists diverge is in the area of what the West calls nepo-
tism. In collectivist cultures, this sort of “favoritism” is
expected. Other qualifications being equal, you should pro-
mote your son or daughter or nephew or niece in the family
business. This is what family is all about, and the family is
the basis of collectivist society. In the West we are likely to
banish our children from the family business in order to
avoid the appearance of “impropriety.” In the West we have
corporate governance, we have “conflict of interest,” we have
the Sarbanes Oxley Act.
As Triandis puts it, individualist bureaucrats value “fair-
ness” or evenhandedness, but collectivists don’t necessarily
agree. “They take the view that if they are not going to give
special benefits to their ingroup, who will?” What collectivist
cultures define as a normal fee, individualist cultures may see
as a bribe. And instead of condemned as nepotism, “the
appointment of a relative is seen by collectivists as natural,
given the need for a manager to have a person of trust work

for him.”24
WHAT’S MINE IS MINE: THE ISSUE

OF INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY
As we have implied throughout, individualist cultures are

ownership focused, and they enjoy their privacy. Again, this

is part of the control complex. In the West we draw hard
lines and put up boundaries — personal and professional.
You don’t need to know what I bought yesterday, whom
I talked to, what church I attended, or whom I voted for. In
the United States, courts are generally quick to throw out
laws that threaten to intrude upon private, consensual behav-
ior. Collectivists, on the other hand, hold that one’s business
is also the business of the group. It’s okay for mends to be
concerned with, and involved in, each other’s personal mat-
ters. In its more extreme forms, the collective is entitled to
know, even regulate, what individuals do and think in
private. As Hollywood embraces multiculturalism, much situ-
ation-comedy material has been wrung from cross-cultural
conflict on matters of privacy.
“Collectivists are likely to say ‘what is mine is yours’,”
writes Triandis, “whereas individualists are likely to maintain
that ‘what is mine is not to be used without my permis-
sion’.”25 This concept of ownership impinges upon the criti-
cal area of intellectual property rights, which brings up
another pair of opposing terms: exclusivity versus inclusivity.
The Western model is exclusivity. My intellectual property
(including patent rights) is strongly protected by law. You are
excluded from the benefits of my ideas or discoveries unless
you make a deal with me. This is a typically individualist pat-
tern, where scientific advancement is attributed to the lonely
genius in his laboratory, and where, consequently, the great

man or woman must be encouraged by rich incentives.
But aren’t we “sub-optimizing” here? Why is it that most
technology in last 400 years has only helped 15 percent of
the world’s population? Today — believe it or not — more
than 30 percent of the people in the world have never
received a phone call. Why? Patent rights prevent the sharing
of a given technology, or else prevent the economies of scale
needed for penetration. Or consider drug companies, who

keep finding ways to renew their patents, a practice that
allows them to continue to control the production, supply,
and price of their miracle drugs. Interestingly, the cell phone
industry has learned to share standards, rather than keep
them exclusive, which represents a very significant shift in
how we will be looking at intellectual property rights going
forward.
Consulting with Texas Instruments, I demonstrated that
their $600 million research and development (R + D) budget
was producing $1.4 billion in royalties, which was clearly a
better economic return than manufacturing, their traditional
model. Their system was “vertical integration”: I invent,
I design, I make, I sell, I service. But again, I see this as sub-
optimization, for the company and for society. My recom-
mendation is to break up the vertical line and replace it with
something like this: I invent and design, then I license, and
everybody in the world can make their own.
We made the same recommendation at Hughes Corpora-
tion, when they were coming out with Direct TV. They are
the designers, the technology inventors. Then they can license
manufacturers. Otherwise, you have the unending battles
over standards, a situation that diminishes returns both for
the industry and customers worldwide. Back to the example
of the telephone: with the old system of land lines, penetra-
tion into emerging nations would have continued at a snail’s
pace. But as it is, today the greatest single cell phone market
is China. It has more than 900 million subscribers and has
the highest number of smart phone users and the second
largest market for mobile phone is India. By comparison, the
entire European Union has about 300 million subscribers,
and the United States has about 200 million (representing
60 percent penetration).
So I am hoping that the old model, based on competition
and exclusivity, may give way in the future to a new model

built on collaboration, inclusivity, and the network economy.
But I am not holding my breath. The current system works to
the benefit of the wealthy industrialized (and individualist)
nations, and they are not likely to give it up.
Plus, in the meantime, the developing nations feel that to
survive in the global market they must adopt the kinds of
protection that the West avails itself of.
For example, a recent article in the Jakarta Post points out
that because Indonesia’s “communal culture” has worked
against the development of intellectual property rights, the
nation’s intellectual wealth has been plundered by outsiders,
mostly from the United States. Among other products and
ideas, the article highlights the case of tempeh, a soy bean
food product developed in Indonesia. Thanks to the nation’s
tradition of sharing knowledge and inventions, the product
was never patented at home, whereas there are more than
15 patents on tempeh in the United States. According to
a spokesman for the State Ministry for Research and
Technology, “It’s because our culture still focuses on commu-
nity sharing. Incentive systems for inventors are a new con-
cept for developing countries. It is a new habit and a new
culture.”26
Regardless of how my hopes turn out, intellectual property
rights should prove a fascinating subject of study in the
twenty-first century. As huge collectivist countries like China
and India flex their economic muscle, their demands at the

cross-cultural negotiating table should provide a strong chal-
lenge to the West’s individualist, exclusivist modus operandi.
POLITICS, RELIGION, AND CONFLICT
I link politics and religion in the same subhead because in

many collectivist societies politics and religion cannot be sep-

arated. In fact, the degree to which religion pervades every-
day life may constitute the most significant and far-reaching
distinction between the individualist societies of the West and
collectivist cultures around the world. Here is how Edward
Hall delineates the difference: “With the possible exception
of the people of the U.S.S.R., Americans have tended to com-
partmentalize religion and to reduce its social function more
than any other people. The Navajo regard many activities,
such as medicine, entertainment, sports, and science, as reli-
gious activities. In the Middle East, Islam plays a more perva-
sive role than Christianity does today in Europe. People in
the Western world have difficulty grasping the extent to
which religion infiltrates all aspects of life in the Arab
world.”27
What’s truly remarkable is the time, effort, and money
America spends to prevent religion from infiltrating the secu-
lar aspects of life. Religion is allotted an hour on Sunday;
the other 167 hours it’s business as usual. Only in America
could people get exercised about the display of the Ten
Commandments in the local county courthouse, or about
even the most ecumenical prayer being offered up at the
beginning of the school day. But that’s the way it is. The Bill
of Rights enshrined America as the apotheosis of individual-
ism, and we don’t want our rights trampled upon-not even
by the deity (or by people who claim to represent the deity).
So, no, of course we can’t understand Arab culture, and

our failure to understand it certainly contributes to our cur-
rent problems in the Middle East. Dinesh D’Souza reminds us
that the very term “Islam” means “submission” to the will of
Allah. Furthermore, in analyzing the fundamental difference
between the United States and the Arab world, D’Souza puts
it in terms of a conflict of values: America (and other
Western democracies) value freedom; the Arab world values

virtue. In individualist America we are free to do what we
want. Muslims are obliged to do as they should.
It’s axiomatic — at least among cynics — that the United
States is embroiled in the Middle East because it needs the
region’s oil. But for Muslims, there may be much more at
stake. What threatens the Muslim world, according to
D’Souza, is that America “stands for an idea that is fully
capable of transforming the Islamic world by winning the
hearts of Muslims. The subversive American idea is one of
shaping your own life, of making your own destiny, of fol-
lowing a path illumined not by external authorities but by
your inner self. This American idea endangers the sanctity of
the Muslim home, as well as the authority of Islamic society.
It empowers women and children to assert their prerogatives
against the male head of the household. It also undermines
political and religious hierarchies. Of all American ideas, the
‘inner voice’ is the most dangerous because it rivals the voice
of Allah as a source of moral allegiance.”28
D’Souza likes America, and this passage no doubt shows
his bias. But I quote it at length because, first, the concept of
the “inner voice” is such a perfect encapsulation of Western
individualism, and, second, because it suggests the desperate
vehemence of Muslim hostility to the United States.
Americans may not realize it, but Muslims fully realize that
the United States threatens not just their oil reserves but their
very way of life. The American is the infidel. This is what

jihad is all about.
Writing in 1995, Triandis was somewhat prescient to pre-
dict that following the Cold War major world conflicts are
likely to be fought along cultural lines, pitting individualist
against collectivist societies. “The majority of the world,” he
reminds us again, “is collectivist, and many in these groups
disagree with Western views. As they become more powerful
(the economies of China and India are now among the top
five), they will increasingly object to being ‘pushed around’.”
What we in the West fail to understand, at our peril, is that
“the individualistic emphasis on human rights does not neces-
sarily suit all the leaders of collectivist countries.”
To illustrate, Triandis recalls the incident from 1994 when
an American teenager sprayed paint on 17 cars in Singapore
and was sentenced to receive six strikes with a cane. This
form of punishment is reputed to be so excruciatingly painful
that President Clinton was moved to intervene, arguing that
the sentence was too severe. A punishment of four lashes was
eventually administered, and with it came a suggestion from
the magistrate in Singapore that Singapore-style justice might
well reduce crime in U.S. cities. But America would say no
thanks. We like our individual protections, even though they
might be extended to criminals. As Triandis writes, “The
American position emphasizes sympathy with the individual,
focusing on the pain that he will endure. The Singapore posi-
tion recognizes that the society has been injured. This event is
treated very differently through individualistic and collectivist
glasses.”
Perhaps one day the global economy will help bridge the
world’s cultural rifts, but I fear that in the short term the
forces behind the global economy (capitalism and free trade)
are exacerbating our differences. I think it’s very likely that
developing nations would enjoy the economic uplift promised
by free trade, for example, but they balk at having the West’s
individualist, materialist culture shoved down their throats
at the same time. But, then, they may not have a choice.
Triandis reports that, as of now, the West is getting richer
and rest of world is poorer. “In the eighteenth century the
gross national product per capita (GNP/cap) of the rich was
twice that of the poor; in 1950 this ratio had become 50 to 1;
in 1990 it was 70 to 1.” Other contemporary phenomena on
the political-economic scene — like the resurgence of market

economies, the weakening of trade unions, outsourcing, and
the ascendancy of global entrepreneurs — also suggest the
rising tide of Western-style individualism.29
But people don’t like to give up their traditions without a
fight. As we’ve already mentioned, as part of the new global-
ism we are also seeing a new — or renewed — tribalism.
Chinese businessmen can now enhance their “guanxi” with
other Chinese businessmen all over Asia and the rest of the
world. The same goes for the Japanese, the Jews, and even
the Greeks. The network economy is entrenched. Will it
capitulate to the force of Western capitalism, or will the West
adjust to, embrace, and help preserve collectivist economic
and political cultures? We’ll have to watch and see.
ASSESSMENTS
From the individualist perspective, at least, individualism has

delivered many blessings to the modern world. The material
comforts and advantages that separate the West from the rest
are largely products of its individualist culture — a culture
that rewards genius, work, achievement, creativity, innova-
tion, and scientific progress. Self-interest is a powerful moti-
vator of human behavior, and individualist cultures tend to
give self-interest free rein. D’Souza recalls a conversation
with a friend of his who had been trying unsuccessfully to

move from Bombay to the United States for ten years. “Why
are you so eager to come to America?” D’ Souza asked. His
friend replied, “Because I really want to live in a country
where the poor people are fat.”30
Beyond the material realm, the individualist cultures of the
West rightly pride themselves on being the champions of indi-
vidual liberty, and of human rights more generally. My right
of free speech, for example, is not to be taken lightly. That

I am free to write a book that calls into question the values of
my society or the actions of my government is indeed a great
blessing. If most books are written, if most work of any kind
is undertaken, with the primary purpose of enriching the per-
son writing the book or doing the work, well, “that’s the way
it goes” in individualist societies. Of course, we understand
the Faustian bargain: to the extent that we are ruled solely by
self-interest, we court our own doom. We will blithely use up
the bountiful earth we inherited from our ancestors and pass
along its barren shell to our grandchildren. But happily, the
individualist is also free to think, to read the best books from
every culture, and to educate himself into a position of
“enlightened” self-interest. There may be higher states of
enlightenment, but this is probably the best we can expect
from the individualist West.
What’s the worst we can expect?
On the personal level, it seems reasonable to expect more
self-absorption, more narcissism, more insistence on immedi-
ate gratification, more consumption, and more divorce (along
with more drugs for better sex); in the workplace, more com-
petition, more status-seeking, more hunger for success, and,
as a result, more of the anxiety and stress that lead to illnesses
like heart disease.
Regarding the latter, here are some remarkable statistics
from a 1988 study. The lowest rates of heart disease,
approximately 1/1000, were found among Trappist monks —

not surprising, since monasteries are one of the most extreme
examples of collectivism. Next, at 1.8/1000, were Japanese in
Japan. A bit higher, at 3.8/1000 were Japanese in Hawaii. At
the top of the list is the U.S. Caucasian population with a
9.8/1000 rate.31 Isn’t that unbelievable? The Japanese, who
are notoriously driven, have heart disease rates roughly five
times lower than Americans. How can that be?
When Brislin and Kim investigated this question, they con-

ceded that one reason for Japan’s lower rate of heart disease
might well be the nation’s traditionally low-fat diet, with its
emphasis on grains, vegetables, and fish, rather than red
meat. But a better reason, these researchers conclude, is that
Japan is a collectivist culture — “in which people’s basic
identity as human beings includes their relationships with
others.” People in individualist cultures, write Brislin and
Kim, “may be very productive and efficient, but they do not
necessarily have an extensive social support network to
help them deal with stress. Collectivism is captured by
terms such as ‘cooperative worker,’ ‘good team player,’ and
‘ready to pitch in and help others’. In collectivist Japan,
people who are stressed from time pressures have others to
offer a sympathetic ear, to assist in the workplace when dead-
lines are imminent, and to offer advice that might prove
helpful.”32
But maybe individualists who don’t succumb to heart dis-
ease will find the happiness that the West offers at the end of
the rainbow. Or maybe not. Triandis cites an experiment that
would seem to puncture the ultimate individualist fantasy —
winning the lottery. The study compared 22 lottery winners
against 22 controls and found that, in fact, the winners were
not happier than the controls. Why? “The reason for these
findings is that happiness is relative to our expectations,”
says Triandis, and winning the lottery has the effect of raising
our expectations. “The result is that after one wins, most

mundane, pleasant events in life (such as looking at a beauti-
ful landscape) significantly lose some of their power to
delight. Life becomes more drab, and to counteract that, the
winner acts irrationally (e.g., buys a mansion that he cannot
afford). A few months after winning the lottery, many of the
winners were in worse shape than they had ever been!”33
Now that I think about it, an unhappy lottery winner is a
pretty good symbol for the emptiness of the West’s material-

ist dream. On the cultural level what can we expect our indi-
vidualism to deliver? Again, the “enlightened” will search for
and find significant achievement in art, science, and humani-
tarian endeavor. The rest of us will find more gratuitous sex
and violence in the media, more celebrity worship, more diet
books and exercise machines, more “reality” television, and
ever more wonderful technology (epitomized, ironically, by
larger and sharper television images).
On the national/political level, especially given the current
environment, we might find ourselves enjoying lower taxes.
But as we know from having endured the recent election,
lower taxes might be a mixed blessing. Triandis notes
that “the opposition to taxation is a classic individualist
response that undermines the health of the collective.
Individualists too often prefer to spend their money on a
larger yacht rather than on improving the country’s elemen-
tary education.”
More generally, taxes allow the government to provide a
“safety net”: social security, unemployment benefits, medical
care, shelters for the homeless, etc., all of which are manifes-
tations of the collectivist impulse. But Triandis warns that
“global competition presses toward vertical individualism:
Inequalities are tolerated, and there is relatively little concern
for those who have no jobs. Naturally, if there is no safety
net to provide for the jobless, they will tum to crime. What
else can they do? Without a national full-employment policy,

crime is inevitable. But such a policy requires taxation, and
that means that the upper class will have fewer yachts and
less fun. They are the ones who vote more reliably than the
poor, so they control many political decisions. As long as
crime is restricted mostly to the inner city, there will be little
political will to do something fundamental about it.”34
Finally, on the international level, does individualism lead
to imperialism, colonialism, and hegemony? Does its hunger

for resources lead to exploitation of the weak? Does its exal-
tation of freedom lead to a foreign policy mandate to make
others free whether they want to be or not? In other words,
does competition lead to aggression? I can only say, let’s
hope not. At the same time, we can’t overlook the failures of
collectivism on the international front. What Triandis calls
“vertical collectivism” (wherein the people cede all authority
to a strong leader) has surely led to some of history’s worst
atrocities. Indeed, the forms of government most antithetical
to human rights (police states, dictatorships, fascist regimes)
are obviously collectivist.
On the other hand, the virtue of collectivism would seem
to be that it reminds us of our common humanity, it puts us
in touch with the people around us, and it suggests that true
happiness may lie in making others happy. Collectivism may
also have the virtue of placing humanity itself in a larger eco-
logical context. Among the “relationships” prized by collec-
tivist cultures (especially those who have not fully embraced
industrial development) is the relationship between the
human and the natural world. (The West’s failure in this
regard will be taken up in the following chapter.)
Triandis tells us that some anthropologists anticipate “a
shift toward collectivism in the next 500 years” as people
begin to resist the “impersonal, cold, bureaucratic social
structures” of the Modern Period and begin to rediscover
that collectives can provide “close-knit satisfying relation-

ships.” The 1968 student revolutions, the revival of occult-
ism, the popularity of Eastern religions are evidence of “the
search for meaning in the West and as the first signs of the
crisis,” which will eventually result in a new social order that
makes room for collectivist thinking.35
That sounds fine to me, but let’s not leave the individual-
ists out of the equation altogether. After all, it will take all
the ingenuity of Western individualism to clean up the mess

that the West has got us into.
CONCLUSION
Our argument, then, is that like his obsession with clock

time, Western man’s individualist orientation is another
aspect of his personality that has been ultimately shaped by
climate. In the simplest terms; the relatively more arduous
struggle to survive in Northern Europe (as opposed to, for
instance, climates with year-round growing seasons) gave rise
to a bundle of cultural values: efficient use of time, control of
the environment, mastery of technique, achievement, compe-
tition which in turn fostered the West’s culture of individual-
ism. Surely the individualist impulse was at the heart of
Europe’s exploration of the New World in the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries, just as the myth of the “rugged individ-
ual” helped propel America’s westward expansion.
Today, because modern technology permits us at least
some control (via heating and air conditioning) over climate
itself, it becomes more difficult to trace out the extent to
which climate continues to influence human behavior. Yet all
of our previous chapters have sought to demonstrate that cli-
mate’s influence is still quite real, and that the consequences
of ignoring climate’s imperatives are often unfortunate.
In our final chapter we will look explicitly at that aspect of

the Western psyche that has been implicit throughout: the
way in which the struggle for survival inculcated in the West
an attitude of antagonism toward the natural world. Not sur-
prisingly, the technologies we’ve developed have largely been
deployed in the battle against nature (or the effort to extract
her resources), and this battle, to put it mildly, has had a sig-
nificant impact on the world we live in today. In Chapter

“Embrace of Technology and Dominion over Nature” we’ll
take a brief look at that impact, and we’ll also ask the ques-
tion: what will happen when the world’s hugest nation,
China, which seems now spellbound by the prospects of mod-
ernization and industrialization, begins to consume the
earth’s resources as profligately as the West has done for two
hundred years.
NOTES
1. Triandis (1995).
2. Triandis, pp. 16, 69.
3. Levine (1997).
4. Hofstede (1984).
6. Hofstede, pp. 157, 171.
8. Hofstede, p. 149.
9. Triandis, p. 108.
10. Levine, p. 18.
11. Lahiri (2003). The differences between the individual-

ist culture of the United States and India’s collectivist cul-
ture, as they play out in family relationships, is one of the
central themes of Lahiri’s novel.
12. Rambo (1989, May).
14. Levine, p. 158.
15. Triandis, pp. 108 109.

16. Hall (1959, 1973).
18. Levine, pp. 18 19, 160.
19. Turnbull (1983).
20. Hall, p. 53.
22. Brislin and Kim (2003).
24. See Chapter 6, “Applications: Training people to
work well together (especially pp. 161 163), for
Triandis’ discussion or workplace issues.
26. Jakarta Post (2001, Apr 25).
27. Hall, p. 54.
28. D’Souza (2003).
29. Triandis, pp. 14 15.
30. D’Souza, p. 77.
32. Brislin and Kim, p. 373.

33. Triandis, pp. 182 183.
34. Triandis, pp. 171, 174 175.
SIX
EMBRACE OF TECHNOLOGY
AND DOMINION OVER NATURE
When you think about it, it’s interesting that the Industrial
Revolution flowered in northern Europe. After all, the sci-
ence, the fundamental mathematics and astronomy, came
from elsewhere from Egypt, — for example, and from Italy
and Greece. But no industrial revolutions occurred in those
areas. In fact, it seems clear that the technology and innova-
tion that spurred the Industrial Revolution evolved where
they were needed, where a harsher climate meant that more
needed to be extracted from nature, where bare hands and
animals were insufficient.
It’s also interesting that it was in northern Europe — on
the church door in Wittenberg, Germany, to be exact — that
Martin Luther posted his Ninety-five Theses and thereby ini-
tiated the Protestant Reformation. Luther’s argument against
Papal authority and in favor of the supremacy of the Bible
and individual conscience came to its culmination two years
later at the Diet of Worms, with his famous statement “Here
I stand. I can do no other.” More than a hundred years later,
in southern Europe, Galileo published his great opus,
187
Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems —

Ptolemaic and Copernican, but neither revolution nor refor-
mation spread out from Florence. Instead, Galileo was forced
to recant and spent the last eight years of his life under house
arrest.
It’s reasonable, I think, to regard Luther’s stance as one of
the great expressions of the individualism that would become
a hallmark of the Western psyche. In northern Europe the
shackles with which the Roman Catholic Church restrained

the individual pursuit of knowledge had been broken, and
the drumbeat of the march of “progress” would inevitably
follow.
With this historical footnote in mind, let’s reiterate what
we know about exactly where progress did its marching over
the succeeding four centuries. The fact is that as of 1990, 21
of the 30 richest countries in the world were located in
Northwest Europe and the so-called Western offshoots (the
United States, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand). Five
were in Asia: Hong Kong, Japan, Korea, Singapore, and
Taiwan. The other four countries include two small oil states
(Kuwait and United Arab Emirates), Israel, and Chile.
Remarkably, these thirty countries account for only about
16 percent of the world’s population. Pointing his finger
directly at climatic causality, economist Jeffrey Sachs notes
that this phenomenon reflects not merely a north-south divi-
sion of the world, but more accurately “a temperate-
tropical division.”
Continuing the climatic argument, Sachs notes that
modern capitalism, the engine of economic development,
began in North Atlantic nations, particularly England and
Holland, and was naturally exported to settlements in North
America, Australia, and New Zealand. These were regions,
Sachs points out, that shared the same temperate-zone eco-
logical conditions as Britain. Moreover, Sachs notes that
Embrace of Technology and Dominion Over Nature 189
within Western Europe, “capitalist institutions spread from

west to east, carried by Napoleon’s armies, by the Revolution
of 1848, and by the example of British industrialization. By
1850, modern capitalism existed in Western Europe and the
Western offshoots.”
While we have argued that, unlike warmer climates, north-
ern Europe had to contend with a relative scarcity of “low-
hanging fruit,” Sachs is quick to remind us of one critical
natural resource abundant in the region: the “coal belt” that

stretches from Britain across the North Sea to Belgium,
France, Germany, and Poland and into Russia. Coal, writes
Sachs, “was the sine qua non of heavy industrialization” in
the nineteenth century, and without it, southern Europe,
North Africa, and the Middle East were at a disadvantage in
the development of heavy industry. Of course, to extract the
coal required exactly the kind of innovation and technical
expertise that, out of necessity, became the region’s preemi-
nent “natural” resource.
“Ideas beget ideas,” Sachs observes. “Societies that have a
critical mass of technological ideas may experience a takeoff
into self-sustaining growth, whereas societies that fall short
of that critical mass may experience continuing stagnation.
The rich get richer because existing ideas are the source of
new ideas.” As evidence of the merit of this argument, Sachs
notes that world science is even more unequally distributed
than world income. “The high-income regions ... contain
around 16 percent of world population and 58 percent of
world GDP but account for about 87 percent of scientific
publications and an astounding 99 percent of all European
and U.S. patents.”
To be fair, Sachs doesn’t buy our implicit argument that in
warm climates life is easier and that the peoples who inhabit
them haven’t had to develop “extraction technologies” or the
exploitation-of-nature mindset that goes along with such
technologies. In fact, Sachs argues that life in tropical climates

is tough. Tropical agriculture faces problems like weak soils
and high soil erosion under tropical rain forest conditions,
difficulties of water control, risks of drought in the wet-dry
tropics, and a high incidence of agricultural and veterinary
pests. Along with these inherent limits on food productivity
in the tropics, there is also the problem of infectious diseases
like malaria and yellow fever. The ultimate consequences of
poor agricultural productivity, notes Sachs, are a high pro-

portion of the population mired in agriculture because of the
absence of an agricultural surplus, a low degree of urbaniza-
tion, and a smaller accumulation of the human capital that
leads to economic development.
Thus, Sachs concludes that “modern economic growth is
intimately connected with capitalist institutions and favorable
geography.”1 However, when we consider the corollary —
that “unfavorable geography” explains the absence of eco-
nomic development in tropical environments, we discern that
something is missing from his argument — and that some-
thing is culture. Climate’s influence on culture must be
inserted into the equation, for certainly culture has a bearing
on economic development.
To illustrate, consider Edward Hall’s anecdote of the diffi-
culty faced by the American worker trying to improve the
“agricultural productivity” of the Taos in New Mexico. “In
the spring the Taos believe that Mother Earth is pregnant. To
protect the surface of the earth they do not drive their
wagons to town, they take all the shoes off their horses, they
refuse to wear hard-soled shoes themselves. Our agriculturist
had been trying to institute a program of early-spring plow-
ing” Hall describes a similar resistance to “development” in a
warm climate on the other side of the globe: “By changing
the emphasis from one of ‘making the soil more productive’
to ‘feeding’ the soil with fertilizer, modern agriculture can be
made more acceptable to the Indonesians, who, because of

their formal religious beliefs, try to avoid controlling
nature.”2
AVOIDING “EDENISM”
Nevertheless, Sachs offers an important corrective, lest we be

accused of “Edenism” — that is, viewing undeveloped coun-

tries as Gardens of Eden where everybody is happy, though
poor. Anthropologists today are looking again at the misery
index of undeveloped countries and wondering if perhaps the
West has important lessons to share after all.
Robert B. Edgerton sums up the position of the new-wave
anthropologists as well as anyone. To dismiss the views of
traditional cultural anthropologists, Edgerton writes as fol-
lows: “The belief that primitive societies are more harmoni-
ous than modern ones, that ‘savages’ were ‘noble,’ that life in
the past was more idyllic than life today, and that human
beings once had a sense of community that has been lost is
not only reflected in the motion pictures and novels of our
popular culture but is deeply engrained in scholarly discourse
as well.”
In fact, writes Edgerton, some folk societies were harmoni-
ous, but others were not. Anthropologists who fail to
acknowledge this, according to Edgerton, have been blinded
by a kind of cultural Darwinism — the belief that if a popula-
tion’s traditional beliefs and practices have persisted, they
must have had a good reason for doing so — even when such
practices include things like cannibalism, torture, infanticide,
feuding, witchcraft, female genital mutilation, ceremonial
rape, or headhunting. With a touch of sarcasm, Edgerton
goes on to note that “when a society was encountered that
appeared to lack a beneficial system of beliefs or institutions,
it was usually assumed that the cause must lie in the baneful
influence of other peoples — colonial officials, soldiers, mission-
aries, or traders — who had almost always been on the scene
before anthropologists arrived.” Edgerton derides the observa-
tions of such anthropologists as “vintage Dr. Pangloss.”
Conceding that some folk societies have been and still are
relatively harmonious, Edgerton is anxious to point out that
others clearly “have been unable to cope with the demands of
their environments, and some have lived in apathy, conflict,

fear, hunger, and despair.” People are not always wise, writes
Edgerton, “and the societies and cultures they create are not
ideal adaptive mechanisms, perfectly designed to provide for
human needs.” Anthropologists are simply mistaken to assert
that if a population has held to a traditional belief or practice
for many years, then it must play a useful role in their lives.
“Traditional beliefs and practices may be useful, may even
serve as important adaptive mechanisms, but they may also
be inefficient, harmful, and even deadly.” To illustrate,
Edgerton cites one southern African kingdom that was
completely destroyed when its “cherished prophets” urged
that all its cattle be killed and no crops be planted. A “more
rational belief system,” says Edgerton, would have predicted
that starvation would ensue.
Edgerton is careful to insist that all societies, including
those most familiar with Western science, sometimes adopt
harmful practices, but that it is likely that “people in small-
scale societies make more mistakes of this kind.” Why?
Because such societies typically manage to survive “without
being rational calculators in search of optimal solutions.” It’s
the old story of risk and reward. For many folk populations,
a strategy that assures survival (“a life-sustaining but less
than maximal yield of food”) is better than risking change
that might bring improvement (“development”) — but might
not. These “minimal risk” or “least effort” strategies persist,
writes Edgerton, “not because they are optimally beneficial

but because they generally work just well enough that
changes in them are not self-evidently needed.”3
From the point of view of the new-wave anthropologists,
“just well enough” may not be good enough, and for ailing
indigenous cultures, these scholars are ready to prescribe
a dose of Western-style economic development. In fact,
Lawrence Harrison points out that the voices of the new

anthropologists are being echoed by increasing numbers of
writers and intellectuals from those same indigenous cul-
tures. He mentions the Venezuelan writer Carlos Rangel,
whose book from the mid-1970s, The Latin Americans-
Their Love-Hate Relationship with the United States,
argued that traditional Ibero-American values and atti-
tudes, and the institutions that reinforced them, were the
principal cause of Latin America’s “failure;’ as contrasted
with the “success” of the United States and Canada.”
He also mentions Nobel Prize-winning Mexican poet
Octavio Paz, who in 1979 explained the contrast between the
two Americas in a way not unlike the distinction we made at
the beginning of this chapter: “One, English speaking, is the
daughter of the tradition that has founded the modern world:
the Reformation, with its social and political consequences,
democracy and capitalism. The other, Spanish and
Portuguese speaking, is the daughter of the universal Catholic
monarchy and the Counter-Reformation.” There is also
noted by economist Gunnar Myrdal, whose book Asian
Drama: An Inquiry into the Poverty of Nations concluded
that “cultural factors, profoundly influenced by religion, are
the principal obstacles to modernization. It is not just that
they get in the way of entrepreneurial activity but that they
permeate, rigidify, and dominate political, economic, and
social behavior.”4
And here’s how Daniel Etounga-Manguelle, Cameroonian

scholar and former member of the World Bank’s Council of
African Advisors, describes the culture of tropical, central,
sub-Saharan Africa: Because of the centrality of religion,
myth, and fable, he writes, “The world and our behavior are
an immutable given, bequeathed in a mythical past to our
founding ancestors, whose wisdom continues to illuminate
our life principles. The African remains enslaved by his envi-
ronment. Nature is his master and sets his destiny.” Again,

because African society exalts the glorious past of ancestors
through tales and fables, nothing is done to prepare for
tomorrow. “The African, anchored in his ancestral culture, is
so convinced that the past can only repeat itself that he wor-
ries only superficially about the future.”
Confirming our analysis in the previous chapter (concern-
ing individualism versus collectivism), Etounga-Manguelle
writes that if he had to cite a single characteristic of African
culture, “the subordination of the individual by the commu-
nity would surely be the reference point to remember. African
thought rejects any view of the individual as an autonomous
and responsible being.” Indeed, he continues, “The concept
of individual responsibility does not exist in our hyper-
centralized traditional structures.”
His comments about the African “work ethic” also rein-
force our observations about tropical cultures in general:
“The African works to live but does not live to work.
He demonstrates a propensity to feast that suggests that
African societies are structured around pleasure.” In his
culture, he says, friendship comes before business, and it is
considered impolite, in a business discussion, to immedi-
ately jump to the crux of the matter. The African’s prefer-
ence for “interpersonal warmth” over content,” says
Etounga-Manguelle, “is the main reason for the inefficiency
of African bureaucracies.”
While he asserts that “our first objective is to preserve

African culture,” it’s clear that he would like to see significant
elements of that culture disposed of. “A society in which
magic and witchcraft flourish today is a sick society ruled by
tension, fear, and moral disorder.” Sorcery, he argues, is a
mechanism for preserving the status quo, “which is, impor-
tantly, what African culture is about.” More generally, he
concludes, “we must . . . destroy all within us that is opposed
to our mastery of our future, a future that must be prosper-

ous and just, a future in which the people of Africa determine
their own destiny through participation in the political
process.”5
Harrison calls indigenous scholars like Etounga-Manguelle
the “new-paradigm writers,” and he notes that their growing
influence has prompted a number of initiatives, in Latin
America and elsewhere, “that promote progressive values and
attitudes.”
For example, he tells the story of Octavio Mavila, who for
three decades was the Honda distributor in Peru. Visits to
Japan led Mavila to the conclusion that the chief difference
between Japanese and Peruvian children was that the
Japanese learned progressive values whereas the Peruvians
did not. So in 1990 he established the Institute of Human
Development in Lima to promote his Ten Commandments of
Development: order, cleanliness, punctuality, responsibility,
achievement, honesty, respect for the rights of others, respect
for the law, work ethic, and frugality. “In the past decade,”
writes Harrison, “more than 2 million Peruvian students
have participated in courses sponsored by the Institute.”
Another of Harrison’s admirable progressives is Lionel
Sosa, whose target group is Latin Americans who have
migrated to the United States. In his 1998 book, The
American Dream, Sosa, a Mexican American, catalogues the
values and attitudes that present obstacles to access to the

upward mobility of mainstream America:
• Resignation of the poor.
• Low priority of education. Hispanic high school dropout

rate in the U.S. is about 30 percent, vastly higher than that
of white and black Americans.
• Fatalism in place of individual initiative. Unwillingness to

challenge the will of God.
• Mistrust of those outside the family, which explains the

generally small size of Hispanic businesses.
From these trends Harrison concludes that “an important

and promising intellectual current focused on culture and cul-
tural changes is flowing throughout the world that has rele-
vance for both poor countries and poor minorities in rich
countries … . It offers an important insight into why some
countries and ethnic/religious groups have done better than
others, not just in economic terms but also with respect to
consolidation of democratic institutions and social justice.
And those lessons of experience, which are increasingly find-
ing practical application, particularly in Latin America, may
help to illuminate the path to progress for that substantial
majority of the world’s people for whom prosperity, democ-
racy, and social justice have remained out of reach.”6
THE PLURALIST RESPONSE
The “progressive” views of Sachs, Edgerton, Harrison,

Etounga-Manguelle, and quite a few others are collected in
a fascinating book called Culture Matters: How Values
Shape Human Progress, edited by Harrison and Samuel
Huntington. Published in 2000, the volume represents the

fruit of a symposium sponsored by Harvard’s Academy for
International and Area Studies. For the sake of balance,
presumably, one traditional cultural anthropologist was
invited to attend, and his contribution to the volume is
worth considering.
“The theme of this volume,” writes Richard Shweder, “is
expressive of an intellectual stance known as ‘cultural devel-
opmentalism.’ For a cultural developmentalist, the assertion

that ‘culture matters’ is a way of saying that some cultures
are impoverished or backward, whereas others are enriched
or advanced. It means there are good things in life (e.g.,
health, domestic tranquility, justice, material prosperity,
hedonic self-stimulation, and small families) that all human
beings ought to want and have but that their culture keeps
them from wanting and/or having.”
Needless to say, Shweder takes issue with this view.
Unlike the developmentalists, he says, he is not interested in
viewing other cultures as “impediments” to the universal
dream of all people “to be more like northern Europeans.”
Nor does he believe that northern Europeans have “a corner
on the market” for human progress. “I do not believe,”
writes Shweder, “that cognitive, spiritual, ethical, social,
political, and material progress go hand in hand. Societies in
command of great wealth and power can be spiritually, ethi-
cally, socially, and politically flawed … . Hence, I do not
believe that either ‘we’ or ‘they’ have implemented the only
credible manifestation of the good life.”
Assessing the work of new-wave anthropologists at the
symposium, Shweder laments the passing of cultural anthro-
pology’s “proud opposition to ethnocentric misunderstanding
and moral arrogance as well as its anti-colonial defense of
other ways of life.” He regards it as unfortunate that after all
the important work of “anthropological pluralists, relativists,
and contextualists,” the new cultural developmentalism is

moving backward to embrace an intellectual stance reminis-
cent of the late nineteenth-century’s “white man’s burden.”
Shweder calls himself a cultural pluralist, one who believes
that “all the good things in life can’t be simultaneously maxi-
mized” and that “no one cultural tradition has ever been able
to honor everything that is good — which is why there has
always been and always should be a rich variety of cultural tra-
ditions.” Unfortunately, the hegemony of the West — with the

seeming endorsement of the new cultural developmentalists —
now represents a force for homogenization, under the guise of
Western-style economic development.
As Shweder puts it, “Throughout history, whoever is the
wealthiest and the most technologically advanced thinks that
their way of life is the best, the most natural, the God-given,
the surest means to salvation, or at least the fast lane to
well-being in this world. In the sixteenth century, Portuguese
missionaries to China believed that their invention of
clocks, of which they were very proud, was knock-down
proof of the superiority of Catholicism over other world
religions … . Dazzled by our contemporary inventions and
toys (e.g., CNN, IBM, Big Mac, blue jeans, the birth control
pill, the credit card) and at home in our own way of life,
we are prone to similar illusions and the same type of
conceits.”7
Judged by conventional standards-standard of living, GNP,
material prosperity — the game is over. The West has won.
Shweder suggests that the victory — or at least the feeling of
superiority that comes with it — is an illusion. Even Robert
Edgerton, as you remember, conceded that all societies, even
Western ones, adopt injurious practices. Is it possible that
northern European culture — based in a cool-temperate cli-
mate that fostered such values as individualism, achievement,
and control over the environment — in fact evolved according
to psychic mechanisms (values, attitudes, traditions, practices)

that will ultimately prove to be, in the language of social sci-
ence, maladaptive? Is it possible that the victory of the West
will prove to be, if not illusory, at best Pyrrhic?
Specifically, is there a price to be paid for the West’s wor-
ship of technology and concomitant exploitation of the natu-
ral world?
***
Anthropologist Richard Nelson tells the story of bear

hunting among the Koyukon Indians of Alaska, just below
the Arctic Circle-and of the elaborate rituals that take place
after the kill. “Koyukon hunters know that an animal’s life
ebbs slowly, that it remains aware and sensitive to how peo-
ple treat its body. This is especially true for the potent and
demanding spirit of the bear.” Fortunately, the leader of this
hunting party is Moses Sam, in his sixties, a man respected
for his deep knowledge and long-lived success as a bear
hunter. In this case, “Moses pulls a small knife from his
pocket, kneels beside the bear’s head, and carefully slits the
clear domes of its eyes. “Now,” he explains softly, “the bear
won’t see if one of us makes a mistake or does something
wrong.”
Contemporary Americans are likely to find such a story
exotic, says Nelson, despite the fact that “for 99 percent of
human history we lived exclusively as hunter-gatherers; by
comparison, agriculture has existed only for a moment and
urban societies scarcely more than a blink.”
From this perspective, says Nelson, virtually all human
experience over the past several million years — virtually all
of our experience in nature-lies beyond our grasp. “Probably
no society,” he writes, “has been so deeply alienated as
ours from the community of nature, has viewed the natural
world from a greater distance of mind, has lapsed into
murkier comprehension of its connections with the sustaining
environment. Because of this, we have great difficulty under-

standing our rootedness to earth, our affinities with non-
human life.”
Nelson notes that although we tend to think of this conti-
nent as having been a pristine wilderness when the first
Europeans arrived, the fact is that the Native Americans had
been here for at least 12,000 years. For those many millennia
they had intensively utilized the land; “had gathered, hunted,
fished, settled, and cultivated; had learned the terrain in all its
details, infusing it with meaning and memory; and had
shaped every aspect of their life around it.” From the point
of view of the northern European and his American
descendants, says Nelson, the idea that a human population
could inhabit an environment “for such an enormous span
of time without profoundly degrading it fairly staggers the
imagination.”8
Novelist Leslie Marmon Silko also addresses the theme of
the community of nature, this time from the perspective of
the Pueblo. Her remarks illustrate what we may call collectiv-
ism writ large: “In the view of the old-time people, we are all
sisters and brothers because the Mother Creator made all of
us — all colors and all sizes. We are sisters and brothers,
clans people of all the living beings around us. The plants,
the birds, fish, clouds, water, even the clay-they are all related
to us.”
Perhaps Jeffrey Sachs would see Silko’s Pueblo as an
example of climate determining development (or the lack
thereof). But I would say again that climate first influences
culture, and that culture then has much to do with a procliv-
ity toward, or resistance against, development. As Silko
writes, “The old-time people believe that all things, even
rocks and water, have spirit and being. They understood that
all things only want to continue being as they are; they need
only to be left as they are. Thus the old folks used to tell us
kids not to disturb the earth unnecessarily. All things as they

were created exist already in harmony with one another as
long as we do not disturb them.”
Sachs suggests that the traditional beliefs and practices
that tend to forestall progress and development in indigenous
societies are maladaptive. Silko, by implication suggests the
opposite: “Perhaps human beings long ago noticed the devas-
tating impact human activity can have on the plants and ani-
mals; maybe this is why tribal cultures devised the stories
about humans and animals intermarrying, and the clans that
bind humans to animals and plants through a whole complex
of duties.”9
Earlier, we saw Daniel Etounga-Manguelle’s rejection of
the retrogressive aspects of African culture-especially reli-
gion, magic, and the live-for-today attitude that leaves the
future uncertain. Not all Africans agree. For contrast,
consider the observations of Thomas Adeoye Larnbo, a
Nigerian physician and former deputy director-general of the
WHO in Geneva: “In the Western world, reality rests on the
human ability to master things, to conquer objects, to subor-
dinate the outer world to human will. In the African world,
reality is found in the soul, in a religious acquiescence to life,
not in its mastery. Reality rests on the relations between one
human being and another and between all people and
spirits.”
Etounga-Manguelle sees the African, because of his
ancient religious practices and beliefs, as “enslaved by his
environment.” Here is Lambo’s take on the same aspect of
African culture: “to the African, the religious-magical system
is a great poem, allegorical of human experience, wise in its
portrayal of the world and its creatures. There is more
method, more reason, in such madness than in the insanity of
most people today.”10
TECHNOLOGY, CONSUMPTION, AND CONTROL
What we have, it seems, is two very different ways of looking

at and living in the world. We might describe them as
Western and non-Western, modern and traditional, northern
and southern, temperate and tropical. Our interest is not in
arguing the superiority of one over the other but rather in
delineating their differences — and in exploring how climate
may have played a role in shaping each one.

The differences are succinctly, and without bias toward
either, summarized by Harry Triandis: “Modern man ... is
open to new experiences; relatively independent of parental
authority; concerned with time, planning, willing to defer
gratification; he feels that man can be the master over nature,
and that he controls the reinforcements he receives from his
environment; he believes in determinism and science; he has a
wide, cosmopolitan perspective, he uses broad ingroups; he
competes with standards of excellence, and he is optimistic
about controlling his environment. Traditional man has nar-
row ingroups, looks at the world with suspicion, believes that
good is limited and one obtains a share of it by chance or
pleasing the gods; he identifies with his parents and receives
direction from them; he considers planning a waste of time,
and does not defer gratification; he feels at the mercy of
obscure environmental factors, and is prone to mysticism; he
sees interpersonal relations as an end, rarely as a means to an
end; he does not believe that he can control his environment
but rather sees himself under the influence of external, mysti-
cal powers.”11
Note the salient point: Modern (i.e., Western) man is
“master over nature” and “optimistic about controlling his
environment.” Traditional man is “at the mercy of ... envi-
ronmental factors” and relies on mysticism rather than sci-
ence. Geert Hofstede discusses this same dichotomy in terms
of what he calls “power distance” — which might be defined

as the distance people feel from the sources of power in their
lives. That is, underdeveloped or traditional societies are the
ones with the “high” power distance, while the rich Western
democracies typically have a lower PDI (power distance
index). To illustrate, Hofstede cites “less economically devel-
oped countries such as Mexico and India, [where] even the
middle classes seem to feel at the mercy of forces beyond their

control.”
His survey of PDI in nations across the world comes to an
interesting conclusion: “The statistical analysis shows that
across the 40 countries, 43 percent of the variance in PDI can
be predicted from the geographical latitude (of the country’s
capital) alone” making climate the single strongest predictor
of PDI. To readers who are surprised to see climate as the
controlling factor, Hofstede offers the reminder that “a coun-
try’s geographical position is a fundamental fact which is
bound to have a strong effect on the subjective culture of its
inhabitants, as this culture was shaped over many
generations.”
Moreover, when Hofstede addresses the question of why
colder countries tend to have a lower PDI (i.e., less distance
between people and power), he sounds a theme, which we
have reiterated throughout this book: “In my interpretation
of the latitude power distance relationship, the key inter-
vening variable is the need for technology as a condition for
survival. Human survival in colder climates presupposes pro-
tection against the hardships of nature, which means that
those who survived were able to master the minimal technical
skills necessary for survival. In warmer climates the need for
technology was less.”12
Where the need for technology was more, more technol-
ogy was what we got.
Technology and innovation are what we in the West

depend on to improve our standard of living, and our stan-
dard of living absolutely must be improved. We don’t want
to live like our parents lived. We want a better life. We sup-
pose that our children will have an even better life than we.
But our only way of measuring this “improvement” is by
counting up the gifts that technology and innovation have
brought us. As a result, we like “new and improved” things
and are quick to dispose of the old — whether automobiles,

television sets, diet and exercise regimens, or even advice
gurus (who make millions of dollars by exhorting us to curb
our appetite for material things).
As Robert Levine puts it, “Anglo-American culture is
addicted to rapid and perpetual change, in everything from
fashion to entertainment to the homes and cities where peo-
ple choose to live.” The case is far different in the non-West,
where “most people ... know exactly where they will be liv-
ing, what job they will be doing, and even what foods they
will be eating for the rest of their lives.” Levine sees evidence
of the Western craving for change and variety in “the shrink-
ing attention span of television viewer,” abetted by remote
control devices and multiple cable stations. We’ve become
“grazers,” says Levine, approaching the airwaves “as a vast
smorgasbord, all of which must be sampled, no matter how
meager the helpings.” Again Levine asks us to contrast our
habits to those of a traditional, non-technological society like
that of the people of Indonesia, “whose main entertainment
consists of watching the same few plays and dances, month
after month, year after year. Each viewer knows every nuance
of movement and each word of dialogue but is perfectly satis-
fied to return again and again.”13
Edward Hall notes this same “addiction” but makes the
critical connection between consumption on the one hand
and the capitalist mandate for growth and development on
the other. “Our demand for variety and for something new
would seem to exceed that of almost any other culture in the
world today,” writes Hall. “It is necessary to an economy
like ours. Without constant innovation we could never keep
our industrial plant expanding.”14
Indeed, to a remarkable degree the consumer has been
handed the ball in our game of economic growth. “Consumer
confidence” and “consumer spending” are critical indicators
of economic health. As Richard Woodward observes in a

recent essay in the New York Times Book Review, “With
economists saluting the consumer as the hero who enables
our high standard of living, we increasingly feel it’s our duty
to buy things we don’t need with cash we don’t have.”15
Needless to say, the West’s conspicuous consumption has
had its critics, from Henry David Thoreau to Noam
Chomsky. Few are harsher than social philosopher Paul
Shepard, whose indictment is summed up in these words:
“The American is not the profligate anti-European; he is, in
respect to certain characteristics, the full embodiment of
Western, classical, Christian man .... Careless of waste, wal-
lowing in refuse, exterminating the enemies, having every-
thing now and new, despising age, denying human natural
history, fabricating pseudotraditions, swamped in the
repeated personal crises of the aging preadolescent: all are
familiar images of American society. They are the signs of
private nightmares of incoherence and disorder in broken cli-
maxes where technologies in pursuit of mastery create ever-
worsening problems-private nightmares expanded to a social
level.”16
Of course, while anti-Western intellectuals fulminate, an
unending stream of immigrants — many from undeveloped
societies around the world — pours into the United States,
seeking to share in the West’s great treasures: its high stan-
dard of living and individual freedoms. We should not forget
that. But perhaps, as we trace out the final connections

between climate, culture, and consumption, we should
acknowledge the obvious.
THE DEVELOPMENT TRAP
Let’s frame this part of our discussion by looking at two

books published 30 years apart: Robert Heilbroner’s An

Inquiry into the Human Prospect published in 1974 and
Timothy Garton Ash’s Free World published in 2004. Other
works might have been summoned, but Heilbroner seems
particularly prescient, and Ash, whose book is by no means a
jeremiad, seems both balanced and fresh. More generally, in
both books, widely read and highly respected authors con-
template the consequences of the unabated expansion of
Western industrial society.
As we consider Heilbroner’s analysis of the “human pros-
pect,” it might help to put it in context. He is writing in the
early 1970s — a time of social upheaval in America when an
entire generation turned its back on “the man” and trum-
peted the virtues of a “return to nature.” It was a time when
Americans first realized the extent to which they were at the
mercy of OPEC, and when the dangers of pollution began to
engage the American consciousness. Yellow smog perpetually
hung over Los Angeles, and acid rain entered the national
vocabulary. It was a time, as Heilbroner writes, of “a visible
decline in the quality of the air and water” and of “a mount-
ing general alarm as to the environmental collapse that unre-
stricted growth could inflict.” After the “oil shock” of 1973
caused the industrialized world to tremble, Heilbroner saw
the looming problem in these terms: “even more disturbing
than the possibility of a serious deterioration in the quality of
life if growth comes to an end is the awareness of a possibly
disastrous decline in the material conditions of existence if

growth does not come to an end.”
In a nod to the restlessness of the age, Heilbroner wonders
whether “a civilization directed to material improvement
higher incomes, better diets, miracles of medicine, triumphs
of applied physics and chemistry” is capable of satisfying
“the human spirit.” But his point finally is not philosophical;
it is logical: “Nuclear attacks may be indefinitely avoided;
population growth may be stabilized; but ultimately there is

an absolute limit to the ability of the earth to support or tol-
erate the process of industrial activity, and there is reason to
believe that we are now moving toward that limit very
rapidly.
Heilbroner, an economist by trade, does not issue this
warning lightly. He is well aware that “science and technol-
ogy [are] the driving forces of our age” and that the industrial
civilization they deliver “achieves its economic success” by
imposing certain values on society (the same values we have
been ascribing to the Western psyche): the “importance of
efficiency”; the “need to ‘tame’ the environment, with its con-
sequence of an unthinking pillage of nature”; the “priority of
production itself,” with its attention to technical virtuosity
and indifference to the “aesthetic aspects of life.” All these
values manifest themselves, writes Heilbroner, in a life “lived
by the clock, organized by the factory or office, obsessed with
material achievements, attuned to highly quantitative modes
of thought.”
In other words, this is who we are. We have created, live
in, and are committed to an industrial civilization, the eco-
nomic existence of which defines itself in terms of growth.
Yet our locomotive must one day smack into the wall of fini-
tude. In Heilbroner’s words, and with his emphasis, “whether
we are unable to sustain growth or unable to tolerate it, there
can be no doubt that a radically different future beckons.”
His “irrefutable conclusion” is that the industrial growth pro-

cess “will be forced to slow down, in all likelihood within a
generation or two, and will probably have to give way to
decline thereafter.” In other words, “the long era of industrial
expansion is now entering its final stages.”
In a world of diminishing resources and increasing need (or
national self-interest), Heilbroner, three decades ago, foresaw a
scenario that might look familiar today: “Thus in all likelihood
we must brace ourselves for ‘wars of redistribution’ or of ‘pre-

emptive seizure,’ the rise of social tensions in the industrialized
nations over the division of an ever more slow-growing or even
diminishing product, and the prospect of a far more coercive
exercise of national power as the means by which we will
attempt to bring these disruptive processes under control.”
“With the rise of China, the largest consumer market and soon
to be followed by India, the exercise of national power is here
and now.” As I have pointed out in Chindia Rising, neither cap-
ital nor technology will slow down the rise of emerging markets
as the unbranded and informal markets transform into orga-
nized branded consumer markets. It will be the environment.
Ultimately, Heilbroner believes that the necessary change
can be wrought by nothing less than a transformation of
Western consciousness: production and consumption
must somehow become “parsimonious, not prodigal,” and
“resource-consuming and heat-generating processes must be
regarded as necessary evils, not as social triumphs.”
I’m sure you see the irony: to survive, Western civilization
will have to reinvent itself as pre-industrial, will have to reject
the values that have defined it and re-absorb some of those
we have been ascribing to “primitive,” indigenous, often
warm-climate cultures. Heilbroner writes that this “sweeping
reorganization ... would seem to imply the end of the giant
factory, the huge office, perhaps of the urban complex.” The
long-term solution, he adds, “requires nothing less than the
gradual abandonment of the lethal techniques, the unconge-

nial lifeways, and the dangerous mentality of industrial civili-
zation itself.”
Heilbroner quite explicitly imagines a post-industrial soci-
ety that wears many of the colorful fabrics of indigenous
clothing: the waning of the work ethic; the “exploration of
inner states of experience”; tradition and ritual reasserting
“their ancient claims as the guide to and solace for life”; indi-
vidual achievement giving way to “communally organized

and ordained roles.” He also notes that people “used to the
pleasures of political, social, and intellectual freedom” are
unlikely to be enthusiastic about such a vision.
In elucidating the “one certainty” he would leave us with,
Heilbroner sounds like the most diehard cultural anthropologist:
“This is our knowledge that some human societies have existed
for millennia, and that others can probably exist for future mil-
lennia, in a continuous rhythm of birth and coming of age and
death, without pressing toward those dangerous ecological lim-
its, or engendering those dangerous social tensions, that threaten
present-day ‘advanced’ societies. In our discovery of ‘primitive’
cultures, living out their timeless histories, we may have found
the single most important object lesson for future man.”17
Timothy Garton Ash does not envision any such “devolu-
tion.” The eminent British author and self-styled “historian of
the present” expresses the hope that the West (the United
States, Great Britain, and the European Union) will get its act
together, resolve its internal differences, and work as one on
the world’s urgent problems. But rather than the overbearing
hegemony of the West, Ash hopes for a world in which “the
models of a free society that China, India, MEA, or Latin
America produce will differ from our own,” as they should.
And even in the West, the concept of the “open society” will
not mean “the predominance of a single model; it [will mean]
the constant, peaceful, regulated competition of many models.”
Ash acknowledges that a number of serious obstacles stand

in the way of his pleasant hope, chief among them the “devel-
opment trap.” Ash formulates it like this: “How long can the
planet Earth sustain ever more human beings consuming ever
more food, water, and energy? That is the largest challenge
facing us all at the beginning of the twenty-first century.” Like
Heilbroner, he sees both edges of the sword: “securing enough
fossil fuel to burn, without coming to blows or utterly
compromising our own principles is only half this challenge.

The other half is the long-term threat to human life on Earth
that will result from burning too much of it.
For Ash, the solution is not a return to pre-industrialism,
but a mustering of intellect and technology to confront the
huge environmental challenges ahead. He notes the success of
the coordinated multilateral effort that “just in time” met the
danger of the depletion of the ozone layer. Now global
warming, the final price of industrial development, is the
worldwide threat, and Ash calls for a similar multinational
response. The problem is, says Ash that instead of taking the
lead in this effort, the world’s richest nation — and most dan-
gerous polluter of the air — is dragging its heels. He recalls
the incident at the Rio Earth Summit in 1992 when represen-
tatives of developing countries tried to put the issue of over-
consumption by developed nations on the agenda. “The
American lifestyle is not up for negotiation,” declared the
Bush administration’s representative at the summit. And
recent withdrawal from supporting the Paris Climate Change
agreement by the Trump administration is another example
of self-interest and denial of the reality that air and water pol-
lution recognizes no national boundaries.
Unfortunately, America’s “cherished lifestyle” constitutes
a big part of the problem, says Ash, and if the challenge is to
be met, America will have to change “more than any other
nation.” This won’t be easy, regardless of the party in power,
because “there are few votes in this for any candidate and
immensely powerful lobbies against it.” Basically, it calls for
putting aside narrow national interests and embracing global
ones, and, says Ash, based on the past record and current
state of American politics, “such an outcome looks woefully
unlikely.”
But even if the United States were to assume the lead in
curbing global environmental degradation, Ash would still fear
“the insatiable power of Western-style consumerism.” Consider

the still traditional culture of Burma (Myanmar), for example.
Yes, Ash agrees, the dictators must go, but when they fall, “the
armies of Western-style consumerism will be waiting at the
frontier, with their container-loads of tawdry goods, their cheap
cigarettes called London, their sex shops, ready-made lifestyle
packages, and state-of-the-art techniques for the unceasing
manufacture of new consumer desires.” This irresistible army
advances, says Ash, by “asking what people want-and giving it
to them,” then making them want more. The manufacturing of
consumer desires insures the growth of the industrial plant.
But the trap has to close. “Western-style consumerism,”
writes Ash, “is unsustainable on a global scale. The earth
cannot forever bear more and more people demanding more
and more.”18
CLIMATE CHANGE: IRONIC DEBACLE OF THE WEST?
We have suggested that the cool-temperate climate of north-

ern Europe may have played a significant role in directing the
thrust of Western civilization and in shaping the values that
have come to define it. It will be a grand irony, won’t it, if
that same thrust-toward technological mastery, industrial
development, and material “progress” — results in a drastic
change in the very climate that nourished it.
Maybe I’m reading the wrong newspapers, but it would

seem that the facts are in: the earth is getting warmer. It
might be argued that the earth is always either heating
up or cooling down, but scientists worldwide apparently
believe that the earth is warming rapidly, with potentially cat-
astrophic consequences looming sooner rather than later.
“The impacts of global warming are apparent right now in
the Arctic,” reports Robert Corell, chairman of the Arctic

Climate Impact Assessment. “The region is experiencing
some of the most rapid and severe climate change on Earth,
and the impacts on the region and the globe are projected to
increase substantially in the years to come.”
The culmination of four years of study by more than 300
international scientists, the report documents that the annual
average amount of sea ice has decreased about 8 percent in
the past 30 years, meaning that an area bigger than Texas
and Arizona combined has melted away. Maybe the rate of
loss can be stemmed before the Arctic Ocean becomes “ice-
free during summer months” — an ecological shift “that
could push polar bears, ice-dwelling seals and some seabirds
to the blink of extinction.” But in the meantime, here is the
report’s hard evidence of climate change:
• The winters are warmer in Alaska and western Canada —

up an average of five to seven degrees in the past 50 years.
• The average extent of summer sea ice in the Arctic has

decreased by more than 15 percent in the past 30 years.
• On land, snow cover has decreased by about 10 percent in

the past 30 years.
• Ninety percent of Alaska’s glaciers are shrinking.
• In Greenland, surface areas of the ice sheet that are

melting have expanded 16 percent since 1980.
(Greenland’s mile-thick ice sheet contains enough water to

raise the level of the world’s oceans by 23 feet.)
Optimists note that warming could open new territory for

agriculture or forestry.
But what’s happening right now is that the permafrost is
melting beneath millions of square miles of the Arctic region,
turning hard ground spongy and unreliable. The ACIA report
notes that in the city of Yakutsk, in central Siberia, more

than 300 buildings, a power plant and an airport runway
have been damaged as the ground gave way beneath them.19
Perhaps surprisingly, some of the most frightening specula-
tion about the imminent dangers of climate change comes out
of the Pentagon, where an elite planning unit has declared
that “climate change is a national security threat of the great-
est urgency and demands an immediate response.” Initiated
by veteran Department of Defense strategist Andrew
Marshall and developed in consultation with “top climate
experts,” the Pentagon report examines the possibility that
the climate might reach a “tipping point” — not in the dis-
tant future but in the next couple of decades. The possibility
arises because of the workings of the so-called “great con-
veyor” — a huge Atlantic Ocean current that flows north
from the tropics, pumping out warm, moist air along the
way. As the current grows cooler and denser in the North
Atlantic, it dives down into the ocean depths and heads south
again. The sinking process continues drawing water from the
south, which keeps the “conveyor belt” turning and our cur-
rent climatic pattern relatively stable. Our present danger,
goes the theory, is that as the climate warms, fresh water
from melting Arctic glaciers will pour into the North
Atlantic, lowering the current’s salinity and its density, and
therefore its tendency to sink. “As a result,” according to a
copy of the unclassified report released to Fortune magazine
in February, 2004, “the conveyor loses its main motive force

and can rapidly collapse, turning off the huge heat pump and
altering the climate over much of the Northern Hemisphere.”
To get some idea of just how the climate might be altered,
scientists are looking at “a century of cold, dry, windy
weather across the Northern Hemisphere that suddenly came
on 8,200 years ago,” precipitated, they believe, “by a con-
veyor collapse after a time of rising temperatures not unlike
today’s global warming.” If such a collapse recurred around

2010, here is what we might see as quickly as 2030:
• an average temperature drop of five to six degrees in

regions of North America, Asia, and Europe;
• mega-droughts in the southern states of the United States,

with high winds that cause dust storms and soil loss;
• a 30 percent decrease in rainfall in Northern Europe,

where the climate will seem more like Siberia’s;
• an increase in violent storms as the conveyor “wobbles”

on its way to collapse, storms that could crash through
ocean levees from the Netherlands to the Sacramento River
area;
• and a perilous rise in geopolitical tensions across the globe,

as the “haves” increasingly try to secure their resources
against the predations of the “have-nots.”
It’s fair to point out that if the climate changed without

human help 8,200 years ago, it might be doing so again, but
scientists today believe otherwise. According to the Pentagon
report, climate experts now see “increasingly strong evidence
that most of the global warming observed over the past 50
years is attributable to human activities — mainly the burn-
ing of fossil fuels such as oil and coal, which release heat-
trapping carbon dioxide.”20
In reviewing the Pentagon’s report for Nation, Mark

Hertsgaard writes that President Bush and his allies in the oil
and auto industries “will find these conclusions hard to
accept but also hard to ignore.” He also wonders about the
repercussions at the World Bank, whose board of directors
had scheduled vote “on a controversial recommendation to
stop all funding of coal and oil development, the two fuels
most responsible for the carbon dioxide emissions that propel
climate change.”
The recommendation came from the Extractive Industries
Review commission, appointed by World Bank president
James Wolfensohn, who was thus in an awkward position.
The commission included representatives of industry, labor
unions, Third World governments, nongovernmental organi-
zations and indigenous peoples. “Citing the dangers of cli-
mate change and the often punishing human rights and
pollution effects on local people, the review urged that the
bank halt all coal loans immediately and all oil loans by
2008. It also recommended that the bank increase renewable
energy loans by 20 percent a year and grant local peoples the
right to veto projects they don’t want.”
Not surprisingly, Bank management is still debating the
recommendations. Currently, according to Daphne Wysham,
who monitored the Extractive Industries Review on behalf of
the Institute for Policy Studies in Washington, the World
Bank dispenses 94 percent of its energy loans to fossil-fuel
projects and only 6 percent to renewables like wind and
solar.
In fact, a draft response by World Bank management
recommended that the board, rather than halt coal and oil
loans, add another $300 million to $500 million a year in
new funding. The logic is familiar; fossil fuels are the cheapest
energy available “and thus promise to speed Third World
countries’ ascent from poverty.” That logic also leads to the
same environmental end-game. As Hertsgaard writes, “the

Pentagon report makes it harder for defenders of the status
quo to sustain such arguments. What good is it to ascend
from poverty into a world descending into weather chaos and
social breakdown?”21
Given the Bush administration’s continued unwillingness
to endorse the Kyoto Protocol, the Pentagon’s report did not
cause much of a stir at the White House. As Timothy Garton
Ash points out in describing what he calls the “unique

responsibility” of the United States, “Having less than 5 per-
cent of the world’s population, America belches out nearly
25 percent of humankind’s annual production of greenhouse
gases.” Without American participation, the battle to contain
fossil fuel emissions has little chance to succeed, and this is
also unfortunate. Based on current trends, says Ash, “global
energy-related emissions of carbon dioxide will increase by
1.8 percent a year, reaching 38 billion tons in 2030 — 70
percent more than today.”
Ash also mentions, ominously, that while the United States
will remain the biggest single emitter, two-thirds of the
increase will come from developing countries, especially
China.22 “Unfortunately, with the Trump Administration’s
deregulation of extraction, production, and consumption of
fossil fuel, it is unlikely that the United States will take a lead-
ership in reversing global warming.”
CHINA: THE FINAL TURN OF THE SCREW?
So the question is: will it be China that pushes climate change

to the “tipping point”? Or, more generally, will China’s
increasingly rapid development and growing taste for Western-
style consumption cause irrevocable environmental damage,
or will that catastrophe somehow be averted.
To put the question in a climatic context, we must first

acknowledge that China is a huge country. In the eastern
half, where almost all the Chinese people live, the north-
south axis runs about 3,400 miles. Like the United States and
other large countries, its climate varies significantly from
north to south. For example, Beijing, the center of govern-
ment power, lies roughly along the same parallel as Boston
and Milwaukee; Hangzhou, Shanghai and Nanjing, in the
important Yangtze River basin, are comparable in latitude to

Jacksonville, Houston, and Southern California; Guangzhou,
Hong Kong, and Taiwan are more southerly still, along
about the same latitude as the Bahamas.
We don’t have to look far to find a striking cultural differ-
ence between the North, represented by Beijing (formerly
Peking), and the South, represented by Guangzhou (formerly
Canton): different languages. Most Chinese speak the lan-
guage of the North, Mandarin, China’s “official” language,
and the one used over most of China’s geography. But the
southeast coastal region, stretching from Shanghai down to
Guangzhou, has apparently resisted the coercion of the lan-
guage police, and a number of indigenous dialects prevail.
Another very visible (and sensuous) difference between
North and South lies in their cuisine. Northern (or Beijing)
cuisine is robust, and more simply prepared than southern
food. Influenced by Moslems and Mongolians, it features
heavier meats like mutton and lamb, slow-cooked or sim-
mered. Vegetables are cooked longer, too, or like cabbage,
sometimes pickled to last through a long winter. What’s
more, rice isn’t the staple crop in the north. Wheat is, which
means lots of noodle or dumpling dishes.
Southern (Cantonese) cuisine is lighter, more delicate, and
features a wider range of ingredients — thanks to the great
variety of vegetables and fruits that thrive in the sub-tropical
climate. Vegetables are cooked lightly so as to remain
crunchy. Rice is ubiquitous. Seafood is popular, of course,

and if you served your fish Cantonese-style, you might steam
it with little pieces of fresh ginger and scallions.23
Are there deeper cultural differences? Are there ways in
which northern Chinese are more like northern Europeans,
for example, and therefore perhaps more inclined than south-
erners to adopt Western-style industrial civilization? After all,
that kind of distinction certainly existed in the United States,
with its industrial North and agricultural (and “romantic”)

South.
Maybe there are such differences. One China scholar,
illustrating the “diversity in culture” resulting from climatic
difference, writes that “the Chinese of the North are more
stolid and conservative than those of the South. This is prob-
ably due in part to a difference in blood, but it may also be
ascribed to the famines which, because of drought and flood,
have periodically devastated the North.”24
Perhaps you can even detect a strain of Western-style
individualism in the teachings of Confucius, especially their
influence upon the mandarins, the elite class of bureaucrats
and scholars. The Confucian “higher man” was endowed with
“integrity, intelligence and character, a sage-scholar-gentleman
all rolled into one.” The mandarin strove to embody “this
Confucian ideal,” but it wasn’t easy. Admission into this select
class demanded years of study, the mastery of classical texts,
the memorization of an immense body of poetry, a total
immersion in Confucian orthodoxy, and finally comprehensive
examinations before a harsh tribunal.25 In this respect, at least,
mandarin (northern) culture seems quite individualistic and
achievement-driven.
It’s logical to assume that in southern China, where the
Mandarin dialect failed to penetrate, the Confucian philoso-
phy, with its emphasis on the “superior man,” may have
also failed to take root. We do know that old Canton
(Guangzhou), with its long summer, mild winter, and year-

round growing season, like other tropical seaports, was
attractive to colonialists. We know that the British effort to
drug the native population into submission led to the Opium
War of 1839 1842, a humiliating defeat for the locals, who
saved their city only by paying a handsome ransom. We know
that like other indigenous cultures, the Guangzhou region has a
thriving native handicraft trade-in ivory, jade, embroideries,
porcelain, bamboo and rattan, and other materials).

Still, like America, China as a whole has a strong sense of
its identity. This identity has been molded by China’s
uniquely ancient national (and imperial) history, and it has
surely been strengthened by the success of the communist
government in uniting the people under one ideology and —
especially over the past 20 years — in pulling the nation out
of poverty. So we must wonder: will the whole of China
enthusiastically pursue industrial development, like a great
whale gobbling the bait of a higher standard of living? Will
the government in the North (Beijing) continue to mandate
industrial development as national policy (without fully
embracing Western capitalism)? Have the market-driven
Special Economic Zones along the southeastern coast (created
by Deng Xiaoping in the mid-1980s to stimulate China’s
export industries) already caused an outbreak of Western-
style consumption that will prove impossible to contain? Or
will significant elements of traditional Chinese society (per-
haps in the warmer, more indigenous southern provinces)
resist Western influence and somehow slow the process of
growth and development?
With such questions in mind, it’s especially interesting to
look at China’s controversial “one-child” policy. After the
doubling of the country’s population during Mao Zedong’s
rule, the government instituted the policy in 1979. It has cer-
tainly succeeded in slowing the rate of the country’s
population growth, but it disrupts long-established Chinese

social patterns in two important ways. First, it destroys the
large-family orientation that characterizes not only Chinese
but most traditional societies, and it is sure to have long-term
consequences for cultural practices like ancestor worship and
other family-centered rituals. Just as important, the new
generation of “Little Emperors” — 40 million “fat, spoiled,
self-centered (male) children” — may come back to haunt
party policy-makers. The question is whether these children,

pampered and overindulged, will become the collectivist-
minded adults that communist ideology demands.
If this “generation of egotists” does in fact transform
Chinese society, the change will certainly be toward Western-
ization. As Harry Triandis points out, the one-child
policy “has the effect of increasing individualism, as the
‘little emperor’ is spoiled by four grandparents and two
parents.”26
Triandis also notices how China’s economic reforms have
a similar tendency to promote individualism. Work teams, he
says, “are now rewarded according to productivity and their
superiority relative to other teams. Before about 1980, only
the individual’s ‘social contribution’ was considered in dis-
tributing rewards. In the past the ‘iron rice bowl’ guaranteed
a minimum income. Now, it is not enough to hold a job; one
must do it well. Furthermore, people are now encouraged to
do jobs they find enjoyable.”
If social and cultural change is creeping across the main-
land, economic development is speeding like a bullet train.
Here are some of the facts and figures. Throughout the 1990s,
China’s real gross domestic product (GDP) exploded at an
average of over 11 percent a year. China’s foreign trade in
2004 surged to an all-time record of $1.1 trillion, up 30 per-
cent from the previous year, and making China the world’s
third-largest trading partner. Meanwhile, foreign direct
investment in China exceeded $60 billion in 2004, making it

the world’s favorite destination for foreign capital.
From 1978 to 2004, China’s foreign trade has multiplied
56 times with an annual growth rate of 16.8 percent. In the
same time, world trade grew 6.4 times with an annual growth
rate of 6.6 percent. In 2004, China’s exports of high-tech
products leaped by 52 percent in the first 11 months, as did
its imports of crude and refined oil and mineral products.

What’s more, China’s increasing presence in the high-tech
consumer electronics industry was symbolized in 2004 by
Lenovo’s surprising $1.75 billion acquisition of IBM’s PC
unit. Today, Lenovo is the largest PC maker in the world.
Even in the textile and garment trade, China is moving up
the value chain. It has surpassed India and it is now the single
largest maker of garments and textiles in the world.
MSNBC reports that the Fapai Xifu Company, a clothing
manufacturer based in the manufacturing hub of Wenzhou in
eastern China, offered Bill Clinton $2 million to be a spokes-
person and model for its line of Western-style business suits.
As a company representative explained, “We are targeting
the European and American markets.
Clinton’s international stature and personal charisma
should greatly boost our product’s appeal.”
More generally, China’s dominance of the textile and gar-
ment industry is expected to continue to spearhead the
nation’s economic juggernaut. Already the industry involves
15 million workers and 300,000 factories. With the lifting of
trade quotas on January 1, 2005, the rest of the world’s man-
ufacturers are looking for a place to hide — or, more likely,
appealing for continued sanctions. As MSNBC sums it up,
“While textile trade controversies could flare up in the com-
ing year, many observers are in broad agreement that China’s
economy can only continue to surge and pull in even greater
foreign investments, manufacturing and outsourcing

business.”27
Now let’s consider briefly the impact upon the world’s fuel
resources — and upon the environment — if China’s rampant
growth continues unabated. In a Time magazine story head-
lined “Will We Run out of Gas?” Mark Hertsgaard writes
about the experiences of Zhenbing, who served as his inter-
preter during a: five-week journey through China in 1999.
Zhenbing is now an economics professor, but when he was

growing up in a tiny village northwest of Beijing, his parents,
like most peasants, were too poor to buy coal to heat their
small mud hut. That’s no longer the case, thanks to China’s
burgeoning coal industry.
Hertsgaard reports that today coal supplies nearly 60 per-
cent of China’s energy, and there is enough beneath the coun-
try to last another 300 years. The good news is that burning
coal has made the Chinese people warm in winter for the first
time in their history. The bad news, says Hertsgaard, is that
nine of the world’s ten most air-polluted cities are found in
China “and nearly one of every three deaths there is linked to
the horrific condition of the air and water.” The author also
notes that China has become the world’s second-largest pro-
ducer of the greenhouse gases that cause global warming,
“and it will be No. 1 by 2020 if it triples coal consumption
as planned.”28
In addition to mining a lot of coal, China has also been
buying a lot of oil In 1993 the huge nation became a net
importer of oil for the first time, and by 1997 she was buying
800,000 barrels per day, twice as much as just two years ear-
lier. Science magazine draws the obvious conclusion: “The
impact of China’s total fossil fuel consumption ... dominates
the politics of global environmental change. Any climate pro-
tection resulting from the greenhouse gas treaty negotiated in
Kyoto, Japan ... will depend on the future of Chinese
emissions.” But the article also points out that China has little
incentive to cooperate. In the first place, the treaty only binds
currently industrialized nations; and second, based on per
capita emissions, China is still squeaky clean compared to the
United States.29
Business Week’s Brian Bremner, in 2004, took a closer
look at China’s unquenchable thirst for oil. China already
consumes 12.1 percent of the world’s energy, he wrote, and
by 2020 the country’s demand for oil will nearly double, to

11 million barrels a day. Already 40 percent of the oil is
imported “as output declines in the northern oil fields.”
More will be needed, and China’s quest for it will have not
only environmental but also geopolitical fallout.
In anticipation of any potential curtailment of supply, says
Bremner, “the Chinese are grabbing what they can-and fend-
ing off anyone with a rival claim in a show of muscular pet-
rodiplomacy.” For example, both China and Japan have
staked a claim to the Chunxiao natural gas field in the East
China Sea. Japan wanted to discuss the matter. China started
drilling. Now the two nations are also arguing over the route
of a pipeline designed to bring oil across Siberia from Russia.
While that discussion continues, says Bremner, Chinese com-
panies have signed oil or natural gas exploration deals in
Australia, Iran, Kazakhstan, Sudan, and elsewhere. “China
has to look at supply security,” says Mark Qiu, chief finan-
cial officer of exploration company CNOOC Ltd., “and the
name of the game in energy security is diversification.”30
Less than a month after that article appeared, the
Associated Press reported a huge new oil deal between China
and Venezuela, the world’s fifth-largest petroleum exporter.
President Hugo Chavez announced that he had just signed new
agreements with Beijing allowing Chinese companies to explore
for oil, set up refineries and produce natural gas in Venezuela,
and that he would also start selling China 120,000 barrels of
oil a month. Chavez said the deal would reduce his country’s
dependence on selling oil to the United States, where 60 percent
of Venezuela’s crude oil exports now ship to.
Emerging from his meeting in Beijing with President Hu
Jintao, Chavez announced the deal in words that sounded
ominously oblivious to the state of the planet: “Venezuela is
bringing China a great energy offer because China has become
the second- largest importer of energy on the planet.”31
It’s an interesting issue to watch, I think. Obviously, China

needs to be concerned about the greenhouse gas emissions that
will result from its industrial growth. But nobody should be
surprised if China, like all developed nations before her, decides
to think about the industrial growth first, and the pollution
later. Unfortunately, with the recent change in politics and pol-
icy in the United States, it is very likely that the Paris accord on
climate change and managing greenhouse gasses is again in
jeopardy. Fortunately, the Chinese now have realized that the
environment is the real show stopper for economic growth and
prosperity. They are now taking a leadership position in renew-
able energy, mainly solar panel energy.
***
This chapter completes our portrait of the northern
European (and eventually Western) prototype. We have
shown him to be a clock watcher, an achiever, one who
values efficiency and productivity. We have shown him to be
an individualist who likes competition, who likes to stand out
from others as better, smarter, and more successful. In this
chapter we have seen how these same traits have led him into
a love affair with technology and innovation in ways that
have led inevitably to the development of our industrial
civilization-for better or for worse. The Book of Ages may even-
tually see him as an odd duck, doomed to foul his own nest.
But no odder than any other, I don’t think. It’s been our
point all along that, like everybody else, “Northern European
Man” was fashioned by the shaping hand of climate. You

might say that the virtues that became his hallmark were
selected by evolution, when his survival depended on having
enough wit to scrape some kind of life out of a cold environ-
ment, depended on being able to use a little bit of daylight
wisely, depended on having the skill — the technique — to
extract from nature what he needed. We’ve developed the
“climate thesis” by comparing this personality to that of
other cultures, mostly traditional and indigenous, mostly

located in warm climates. We have noted that this “Southern
Man” doesn’t seem to care so much about time or work or
individual success. He seems to care more about his family,
his gods, and, by extension, the sanctity of the physical envi-
ronment We do not say Southern Man is happier. Third-
world misery and despair have been amply documented.
But as Timothy Garton Ash suggests, if we want to help
solve those problems, we probably ought to do it without forc-
ing a “single model” of growth and development down the
throats of our beneficiaries, especially when that model is
“globally unsustainable.” This chapter has tried to describe the
“development trap” into which that single model would inevi-
tably lead. If the trap closes, the story of the West will have its
ironic twist. The same civilization that was shaped by climate
that developed advanced technologies to insulate itself from cli-
mate (separating itself further from nature), might ultimately
threaten its own existence by unwittingly changing climate.
NOTES
1. Sachs (2000).
2. Hall (1959, 1973).
3. Edgerton (2000).
4. Harrison (2000).
5. Etounga-Manguelle (2000).
6. Harrison, pp. 303 307.
7. Shweder (2000).
8. Nelson (1993, Sept/Oct).
9. Silko (1993, Dec 19).

10. Lambo (1978, Mar).
11. Cited in Hofstede (1984, p. 152).
12. Hofstede, pp. 80, 95.
13. Levine (1997).
14. Hall, p. 154.
15. Hall (2004, Dec 6).
16. Shepard (1982).
17. Heilbroner (1974); “disastrous decline,” pp. 19 21;
“nuclear attacks,” p. 47; “driving forces,” p. 56; “economic
success,” p. 77; “irrefutable conclusion,” p. 129; “wars of
redistribution,” pp. 135 136; “sweeping reorganization,”
p. 138; “inner states of experience,” pp. 140 141; “one
certainty,” p. 141.
18. Ash (2004); “models of a free society,” p. 227; “larg-
est challenge,” p. 158: “fossil fuel,” p. 161; “the
American lifestyle,” p. 164; “few votes,” p. 166; “insatia-
ble power,” p. 227.
19. Toner (2004, Nov 9).
20. Stipp (2004, Feb 9).
21. Hertsgaard (2004, Mar 1).

22. Ash, p. 163.
23. Aimin (1994).
24. Latourette (1968).
25. De Riencourt (1965).
26. Triandis (1995, pp. 86, 90).
27. Baculinao (2004, Dec 30).

28. Hertsgaard (1999, Nov 8).
29. Drennen and Erickson (1998, Mar 6).
30. Bremner (2004, Nov 15).
31. Atlanta Journal-Constitution (2004).

CONCLUSION
In Part One of this book we analyzed the relationship

between climate and consumption — specifically the con-
sumption of the basic necessities of life: food, clothing, and
shelter. We found it to be generally true that climate does
drive consumption, and, moreover, that societies often do
well when their food, clothing, and shelter are appropriate to,
and arise naturally out of, local climatic conditions. We also
noted, however, that modern Western technology has given
us the means to “transcend” climate and to export our con-
sumer goods all over the globe. People can build Italian villas
in Hawaii and wear Western-style business suits in Shanghai.
Even more important, Western society has become so mobile
that climate considerations would now seem to be irrelevant.
So the question might still be raised: in the environment of
the global economy, is there still any reason for the producers
and marketers of consumer goods to factor climate into their
business decisions?
Some years ago I was involved in a research study for
ATT, investigating the premise that society was getting more
and more mobile and that long-distance calling encouraged
that trend. In fact, we found no correlation between mobility
and long-distance calling. So we went to the Census Bureau
and found out the truth: yes, 20 25 percent of Americans
229
230 Conclusion
move every year, so that element of the population is indeed

highly mobile. However, on the other side we discovered that
75 percent of Americans never moved from the county (dis-
trict) in which they were born.
While mobility beyond the county is increasing as more
students go to college and many technicians and skilled work-
ers move for job opportunities, it is still less than 40 percent.
Moreover, since America is clearly the most mobile society of
all, we must conclude that world mobility actually remains

quite limited. We also conclude that climate-based consump-
tion patterns will continue to be very important.
In Part Two we looked at the role climate has played in
shaping culture itself. We found a consensus of scholarly
opinion that the cultural values of non-Western (traditional,
indigenous) societies differ markedly from the values of the
West, value differences that bear quite directly on consump-
tion patterns and, indeed, on every aspect of life. Many of
these scholars noted that these differences tended to break
down upon latitude lines: north (Western) versus south, or
cool/temperate versus warm/tropical. A few even advanced
our own thesis: that climate did in fact help shape the value
systems of the Western and non-Western worlds.
Whereas in Part One we noted that the West has the
means to ignore climate and export its consumer goods to
non-Western cultures (sometimes with unlooked-for conse-
quences), in Part Two we looked at the West’s inclination to
export culture itself. Specifically, we saw how the West’s
industrial civilization arose inevitably out of the values we
ascribed to the northern European psyche, and we suggested
implicitly that Western-style development might be inappro-
priate for cultures based on quite different values and existing
in quite different climates. We also considered the environ-
mental consequences that would likely ensue if the developing
world did indeed embrace the “single model” of the West.
Conclusion 231
If the generalizations we have arrived at are valid, the impli-

cations, I believe, are profound and far-reaching. “All politics is
local,” someone once said. I would add that consumption, too,
is local. Markets are local. If I were a Western businessman
looking to expand internationally, I would look hard at my
assumption that foreign markets want the same product I am
selling at home. I would study local conditions — climate,
culture, consumption — and either change my product accord-
ingly or create a new one that appeals to local tastes and blends
into the local culture. I will win market share, but I might also
lose my reputation as a Westerner with a colonial mindset.

REFERENCES
Ash, T. G. Pentagon Report, p. 163.
Ash, T. G. (2004). Free world: America, Europe, and the

surprising future of the West. New York, NY: Random
House.
Aimin, C. (1994). Aspects of Chinese culture (pp. 190 194).

Nanjing: Yilin Press.
Altshul, S. (2004). The spice that cuts cholesterol and blood

sugar. Prevention, June, p. 50.
Anderson Forest, A. (2004). How sick is your home?

Business Week, August 9, pp. 66 68.
Ardrey, R. (1966). The territorial imperative (pp. 5, 231,

236, 335). New York, NY: Atheneum.
Armstrong, L. (2004). Is your house sick? Business Week,

June 21, p. 134.
Atlanta Journal Constitution. (2004, December 13).

Venezuela to open door to Chinese oil companies.
Baculinao, E. (2004, December 30). Is China ready for the

big time in 2005? Retrieved from www.msnbc.msn.com
Badawy, A. (1966). Architecture in Ancient Egypt and the

Near East (pp. 5 6). Cambridge: MIT Press.
233
234 References
Bajaj, A. K., Gupta, S. C., Chatterjee, K. S., & Singh, K. G.

(1991). Shoe dermatitis in India: Further observations.
Contact Dermatitis, February, pp. 149 151.
Beals, R., & Hoijer, H. (1965). The origins of clothing.

In M. E. Roach & J. B. Eicher (Eds.), Dress, adornment,
and the social order (p. 9). New York, NY: Wiley.
Bentley, M., & Horstmeyer, S. (2004). Living with heat.

Weatherwise, January February, pp. 16 20.
Bing, S. (2004). Suit yourself! Fortune, February, p. 164.
Bourgeois, J. L., & Pelos, C. (1992). West African adobe:

Mud at its most magnificent. American Visions,
February March, pp. 16 20.
Bremner, B. (2004). The great oil hunt. Business Week,

November 15, pp. 60 62.
Brislin, R. W., & Kim, E. S. (2003). Cultural diversity in

people’s understanding and uses of time. Applied Psychology:
An International Review, 52(3), 363 382.
Bryant, S. L. (1998). Reaping the benefits of the “False

Banana.” Science, March 27.
Bruemmer, F. (1997, March). Life on a Cold Rock. Natural

History.
Cannon, G. (2002, December). Nutrition: The new world

disorder. Asia Pacific Journal of Clinical Nutrition, 11(3),
499 507.
Cawley, J. (2003, May). Is your home making you sick?

Biography, 7(5), 68 72.
Claiborne, R. (1970). Climate, man, and history (pp.

142 143, 181, 182, 199 201, 298, 299, 333, 369, 370).
New York, NY: Norton.
References 235
Consumers’ Research Magazine (1998, July). High-heeled

shoes are the cause of many maladies for women, p. 41.
Consumer Reports on Health (1992, January). Staying one

step ahead of foot problems, pp. 4 5.
Consumer Reports on Health (1999, April). Mediterranean

diet: Not just for the heart?
Cooper, J. M. (1963). In J. H. Steward (Ed.), The Yahgan

(pp. 81 83). New York, NY: Cooper Square.
Cooperman, A. (1996, April 15). How do Russians cure

a hangover? U.S. News and World Report, 120(15),
48 49.
D’Adamo, P. J. (1996). Eat right for your type (pp. 6 12).

New York, NY: Putnam.
De Riencourt, A. (1965). The soul of China (67 pp., revised

ed.). New York, NY: Harper & Row.
Diamond, J. (1991, October). The saltshaker’s curse. Natural

History, 10, 20 26.
Diamond, J. (1997). Guns, germs, and steel: The fates of

human societies. In Climate changes at the end of the
pleistocene (pp. 110, 136 139, 153, 178 185). New York,
NY: Norton.
Diamond, J. (1999). Guns, germs, and steel: The fates of

human societies (p. 341). New York, NY: Norton.
Draper, P. (1973). Science, October, pp. 301 303.
Drennen, T. E., & Erickson, J. D. (1988, March 6). Who will

fuel China? Science, 279(5356), 1483.
D’Souza, D. (2003). What’s so great about America (pp. 77

and 181). New York, NY: Penguin.
236 References
Edgerton, R. B. (2000). Traditional beliefs and practices —

Are some better than others? Culture Matters, pp. 127 137,
303 307.
Edlich, R. F., Winters, K. L., Cox, M. J., Becker, D. G.,

Horowitz, J. H., Nichter, L. S., & Long, W. B. (2004).
National health strategies to reduce sun exposure in Australia
and the United States. Journal of Long-Term Effects of
Medical Implants, 14(3), 215 224.
Elegbe, I., & Botu, M. (1982, February). A prelimi-

nary study on dressing patterns and incidence of
candidiasis. American Journal of Public Health, 72(2),
176 177.
Etounga-Manguelle, D. (2000). Does Africa need a cultural

adjustment program? Culture Matters, pp. 69 75.
Farrell-Beck, J., & Callan-Noble, E. (1998). Textiles and

apparel in the etiology of skin diseases 1870 1914.
International Journal of Dermatology, pp. 309 314. Effects
of Medical Implants, pp. 215 224.
Galland, L. (1998, April May). Sick buildings, sick people.

Total Health, 20, 38 39.
Garrett, V. M. (1994). Chinese clothing: An illustrated guide

(pp. 31, 108 112, 191 196, 199 201). New York, NY:
Oxford University Press.
Gavalas, E. (2004, February March). My big healthy Greek

diet. Mother Earth News, 202, 100 104.
Graff, J. (2001). Agriculture is bad for you. Time Europe,

April 30, p. 59.
Greeley, A. (2004, March). Seduced by Tapas. Vegetarian

Times, 319, 66 72.
References 237
Gupta, S. (2004). Spicing up your life. Time, May 3, p. 92.
Hadlow, L. (1952). Climate, vegetation & man (pp.

156 161, 278). New York, NY: Greenwood Press.
Hall, E. T. (1959). The silent language (pp. 53 54, 80, 81,

86, 154, 189). New York, NY: Doubleday; Anchor Books
Edition, 1973.
Hall, E. T. (1969). The silent language (pp. 4, 9, 11,

12, 25, 154, 163, 164, 173, 185). New York, NY:
Doubleday; Anchor Books edition, 1973.
Hall, W. R. W. (2004). Have yourself a merry little festivus.

New York Times Book Review, December 4, p. 23.
Harris, D. (2002, Spring). Neckties. American Scholar, 71(2),

79 85.
Harris, M. (1977). Cannibals and kings: The origins of

cultures (pp. 181 and 189). New York, NY: Random House.
Harrison, E. K. (2001, July). Residential. Architectural record

(pp. 165, 212 216). Oliver.
Harrison, L. E. (2000). Promoting progressive cultural

change. Culture Matters, pp. 297 301.
Hayden, T. (2003, May 5). Escaping the tyranny of trousers.

U.S. News & World Report, 134(15), 69.
Heilbroner, R. (1974). An inquiry into the human prospect

(pp. 19 21, 47, 56, 77, 129, 135 136, 138, 140 141).
New York, NY: Norton.
Hertsgaard, M. (1999, November 8). Will we run out of gas?

Time, 154(19), 110 111.
Hertsgaard, M. (2004). A new ice age? Nation, March 1,

pp. 7 9.
238 References
Hoebel, E. A. (1965). Clothing and ornament. In

M. E. Roach & J. B. Eicher (Eds.), Dress, adornment, and
the social order (p. 19). New York, NY: Wiley.
Hofstede, G. (1984). Culture’s consequences (pp. 80 95,

149, 151, 152, 157, 171). Newbury Park, CA: Sage
Publications.
Hunter-Gadsden, L. (1993). Made in the motherland. Black

Enterprise, May, p. 33.
Huntington, E. (1971). Civilization and climate (3rd ed.,

p. 57). Hamden, CT: Archon Books.
Hurlock, E. B. (1965). Sumptuary law. In M. E. Roach &

J. B. Eicher (Eds.), Dress, adornment, and the social order
(p. 299). New York, NY: Wiley.
Jakarta Post (2001, April 25). Culture of sharing undermines

local property rights.
Jaroff, L., & Rademaekers, W. (1992, October 26). Iceman.

Time, 140(17), 62 66.
Jarosz, L. A. (1994). Taboo and time-work experience in

Madagascar. Geographical Review, October, pp. 439 450.
Jell, G., & Sabin Jell-Bahlsen, S. (2003). Losing ground:

Place-making, alienation, and (sub)-urbanization in rural
Bavaria. Dialectical Anthropology, 69 87.
Jibrin, J. (2003). Super soups. Natural Health,

November December, pp. 33 36.
Johnson, D. (1998, June July). A cure for sick buildings?

Futurist, 32(5), 12 13.
Keuneke, R. (1997, July August). The French

Mediterranean diet. Total Health, 19(3), 14 16.
References 239
Kleiner, C. (1999, August 16). Long before boxers or briefs.

U.S. News & World Report, p. 76.
Kwon, B., & Gordon, D. (1998, October 5). Liquid assets.

Newsweek.
Lahiri, J. (2003). The namesake. New York, NY: Houghton

Mifflin; Mariner Books edition 2004.
Lamb, H. H. (1982, 1995). Climate, history and the modern

world (2nd ed., pp. 16, 148 149, 154 155). London:
Routledge.
Lamb, H. H. (1988). Weather, climate & human affairs

(p. 249). New York, NY: Routledge.
Lamb, M. (1998). Reap the antioxidant powers of herbs and

spices. Mother Earth News, December 1998 January 1999,
pp. 322 334.
Lambo, T. A. (1978). Psychotherapy in Africa. Human

Nature, March.
Latourette, K. S. (1968). The Chinese: Their history and

culture (4th ed., p. 19). New York, NY: Macmillan.
Levine, R. (1997). A geography of time (pp. 18, 19, 158,

160). New York, NY: Basic Books.
Levine, R. (1997). A geography of time (Chapters 3, 4, and

6, pp. 12 14, 17, 18, 41 45, 51 100, 129 152, 155, 156).
New York, NY: Basic Books.
Liebman, B. (1994, May). A fish tale. Nutrition Action

Health Letter, 8.
Long, P. (1995, July/August). Have the heart benefits of

eating fish been overblown? Health, 9(4), 22.
240 References
Lurie, A. (1991, Spring). The language of clothes. Human

Ecology, 32 35.
Malenic, M. (2000). Fit to be tied. American Spectator,

June, p. 82.
McCartney, A. P., & Veltre, D. W. (1999, February).

Aleutian island prehistory: Living in insular extremes. World
Archaeology, 30(3), 503 515.
Modern Medicine (1996, March). Squeezing more vitamin C

into the diet may help lower blood pressure in Blacks,
pp. 21 22.
Mokuau, N. (1990, August). The impoverishment of native

Hawaiians and the social work challenge. Health and Social
Work, 15(3), 235 242.
Mumford, L. (1963). Technics and civilization (p. 14).

New York, NY: Harcourt, Brace. Harbinger Books Edition,
1934.
Nelson, R. (1993, September/October). Understanding

Eskimo science. Audubon, 95(5), 102 109.
Noah, A., & Stewart, A. T. (2001, February). There are

many Mediterranean diets. Asia Pacific Journal of Clinical
Nutrition, 10(1), 2 9.
Oliver, P. (1987). Dwellings: The house across the world

(pp. 17 21, 22 31, 35, 64, 65, 72 75, 80, 81, 94,
118 124). Oxford: Phaidon Press.
Parfit, M. (2000). Hunt for the first Americans. National

Geographic, December.
Parsons, J. J. (1991). Giant American bamboo in the vernacu-

lar architecture of Colombia and Ecuador. Geographical
Review, April, pp. 131 152.
References 241
Pediatric Alert (2004, August 8). Salsa beats gentamicin for

salmonella, p. 90.
Peterson, S. (2001, June 13). In the land of vodka, a boom in

alcohol-free beer. Christian Science Monitor.
Rambo, K. F. (1989). From shells to money: Ceremonial

exchange among the Simbu of Papua New Guinea. The
World and I, May, pp. 645 653.
Rifkin, J. (1987). Time wars (pp. 4 5, 51, 66, 97, 192, 196,
197, 210). New York, NY: Henry Holt.
Roach, M. (1994). My dinner with Nartok. Health,

November/December, pp. 32 34.
Romantschuk, T. (1997). Food for a cold climate. Europe,

July/August, p. 38.
Roth, A. (1979). Concise history of American architecture

(pp. 6, 11). New York, NY: Harper & Row.
Roth, L. M. (1993). Understanding architecture: Its elements,

history, and meaning (pp. 121 122, 132 133). New York,
NY: HarperCollins.
Sachs, J. (2000). Notes on a new sociology of economic

development. In L. E. Harrison & S. P. Huntington (Eds.),
Culture matters: How values shape human progress
(pp. 29 42). New York, NY: Basic Books.
Salisbury, D. (1990, October). Hypertension: A discriminat-

ing disease. Technology Review, 93(7), 22 23.
Saporito, B. (1993, September). Unsuit yourself. Fortune,

128(6), 118 120.
Sayer, C. (1993). The traditional architecture of Mexico

(pp. 57 59). London: Thames and Hudson.
242 References
Schneider, S. H., & Londer, R. (1984). The coevolution of

climate and life (pp. 101 103, pp. 111 112; pp. 390 391).
San Francisco, CA: Sierra Club Books.
Science News (1992, February 15). Sick buildings get a

breath of fresh air, p. 109.
Shapiro, L. (1994). Eating the Mediterranean way.

Newsweek, December 5, p. 56.
Shepard, P. (1982). Nature and madness (pp. 123 124).

Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press.
Shweder, R. A. (2000). Moral maps, ‘first world’ conceits,

and the new evangelists. Culture Matters, 160 167.
Silko, L. M. (1993). Yellow woman and a beauty of the

spirit. Los Angeles Times Magazine, December 19, pp.
52 66.
Sokolov, R. (1988). Bread and water: Spanish style. Natural

History, June, pp. 80 82.
Solomons, N. W. (2002, December). Ethical consequences for

professionals from the globalization of food, nutrition and
health. Asia Pacific Journal of Clinical Nutrition, 3,
653 663.
Stairs, D. (2002, Summer). The persistent vitality of the ver-

nacular. Design Issues, 70 88.
Stipp, D. (2004). The Pentagon’s weather nightmare.

Fortune, February 9, pp. 100 105.
Thomas, M. R. (2001). Folk psychologies across cultures

(p. 239). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.
Toner, M. (2004, November 9). Arctic warming turns up

heat on rest of us. Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
References 243
Tresilian, D. (2000, December). And the walls didn’t come

tumbling down. UNESCO Sources, 129, 22 23.
Triandis, H. C. (1995). Individualism & collectivism

(Chapter 6, pp. 2, 6, 7, 10, 14–16, 24, 69, 70, 75, 76, 83,
86, 89, 90, 95, 108, 109, 129, 134, 141, 161, 163, 171,
174, 175, 182, 183). Boulder, CO: Westview Press.
Tully, C. (2004). Equipped for endeavor. Geographical,

March, pp. 75 79.
Tur, J. A., Romaguera, D., & Pons, A. (2004, July). Food

consumption patterns in a mediterranean region: Does the
mediterranean diet still exist? Annals of Nutrition and
Metabolism, 48(3), 193 2001.
Turnbull, C. M. (1983). The Mbuti pygmies: Change and

adaptation (pp. 38 47). New York, NY: Holt, Rinehart and
Winston.
Vesilind, P. J. (2003). The driest place on earth. National

Geographic, August.
Weintraub, B. (1995). Masai diet wards off heart disease

(geographica). National Geographic, October.
West. (2004). New York, NY: Random House (pp. 158, 161,
164, 166, 227).
Wilkie, D. S., & Morelli, G. A. (1991). Coming of age in the

Ituri. Natural History, October, pp. 54 63.
Wilson, J. A. (1994). Afrocentric fashions — A trend or

cultural expressions here to stay? Black Collegian,
March April, pp. 23 25.

INDEX
Acidic soils, 96 Animal-based clothing,

Adaptability, 92 60 61
Aegyptopithecus, 4 Anthropologists, 4, 87,
Affordability, 1 2 191 192

African Americans case, Ape-like ancestors, 4
43 Apua, 167
Cannon’s thesis, 48 51 Ash, Timothy Garton, 206,
cholera and bacterial 209 210, 225
diarrheas, 46 47 Asia Pacific Journal of
Diamond’s moral, 47 Clinical Nutrition, 47
Grim and Wilson’s Assessments, 178
theory, 46 collectivism, 182 183
Lakew’ belief, 51 52 individualists, 178 181
“salt-gene” theory, 45 statistics, 179 180
sodium, 44 taxes, 181 182
Solomons’ thesis, 47 Asvaldsson, Thorvald,
Agency for International 13 14
Development (AID), “At Big Blue”, 71
103 Athenian democracy, 10,
Agriculture, 9 12, 15 16
agricultural productivity, Atherosclerosis, 25
190, 191
agriculturist, 190, 191 “Bad water”, 1
Alaskan Nunamiut Bamboo, 8, 61, 85,
Eskimos, 88 89 101 106, 219
Aleutian climate, 59 60 “Barbarians”, 56
Aleutian Storm Track, 60 Bark cloth, 64, 65
Aleutian tradition, 59 Bill of Rights, 175
Alzheimer’s disease, 35 Binjali, 65
America, mobile society, Black Collegian magazine,
230 80 81
245
246 Index
“Black tents”, 90 Civilization and Climate,

Blood type factor, 38 42 134 135
Bopi, 167 Civilizations
“Breathing wall”. See climate and higher,
Environmentally 10 13
friendly aircleaning rise of, 40
system rise of, 7 10
Bremner, Brian, 222 223 Claiborne, Robert, 4,
Brislin, Richard, 124, 9 10, 12, 17
126 128, 132, 137, Climate changes, 22 23,

180 211 216
Buddha (563 483 BC), Climate-shaped shelter, 86
11 12 Climate(s), 80 81, 93,
Budi bahasa, 166 202, 229, 230
Bugla ingu, 161 changes, 22 23,
“Bushmen”, 89 90, 147 211 216
fashion, vs., 72 77
Cannibals and Kings, 149 temporary shelters in
Cannon, Geoffrey, 48 51 harsh, 87 92
Capitalism, 188 189 See also Harsh climates,
Capsaicin, 35 temporary shelters in
Chavez, Hugo, 223 Climate clothing
Chemical dyes, 63 relationship, 67
“Cherishing lifestyle”, 210 “Climatic downturn”,
Chile’s Atacama Desert, 16 10 11
China, 216 “Climatic inferno”, 97 98
foreign trade, 220 221 Climatologists, 4, 55
greenhouse gas emissions, Clock, 165
224 clock-centered lifestyle,
Guangzhou, 218 219 131 132
mining of coal, 222 “Clock time”, 124 126
oil deal between China Clothing, 55
and Venezuela, 223 dark clothes, 70, 71, 90
“one-child” policy, fitted, 56
219 220 heavy cloth, 90
Southern (Cantonese) as symbol, 66 68
cuisine, 217 for temperate climates,
Chinese textile clothing, 62 61 63
Index 247
Coke consumption, 2 Consumer confidence, 205

Coke International, 1 Consumer Reports on
Cold climates, 56 57 Health, 76
Cold War, 177 Consumer spending, 205
Cold-weather clothes, Consumerism, 159
58 61 Consumption, 202 206,
Collectivism, 153, 180 229, 230
assessments, 178 183 Contemporary Americans,
family unit, 159 163 199
genesis of civilization, “Contextualists”, 198

156 157 Control, 202 206
happiness in workplace, Cool-temperate climate,
166 172 198, 211
happiness, 163 166 Cooper, John M., 78
Individualism Index, Cooperation, 166 172
157 158 Coronary heart disease, 29
issue of intellectual Cotton, 62 63
property, 172 175 Country’s geographical
Joseph Campbells theory, position, 203
155 156 Courtyard, 86, 99
politics, religion, and Cream sauce, 41
conflict, 175 178 Cro-Magnon ancestors, 39
self-perpetuating system, “Culms”, 101
158 159 Cultural/culture, 22,
West, 154 155 134, 135 136,
Collectivist cultures, 137, 163 164
162 163, 165, democratic time,
168 169 132 133
Collectivist societies, 161 developmentalism, 197
Communal culture, 174 factors, 2
Competition, 166 172 faster-paced, 131
“Cone-and-cylinder” hierarchical time,
houses, 104 132 133
Confucian “higher man”, matters, 197
218 non-Western, 230
Confucius (551 479 BC),
11 12 D’Adamo, Peter J., 39
Construction, 96 97 Dark clothes, 70, 71, 90
248 Index
Democratic time culture, False banana. See Enset

132 133 Family, 171
Dermatologists, 73 74 customs, 162
Desert soils, 96, 98 unit, 159 163
Development trap, Farmhouses of Bavaria, 94
206 211 Fascism, 125
Diamond, Jared, 22 24, Fashion, 72 77
41, 45 47, 64, 70, tight noose, 68 72
149 Faster-paced cultures, 131
Diet, 43 Favoritism, 171

Mediterranean, 30 33, Fertile Crescent, 22
40 Finnish wine, 26
Northern, 26 30 Fitted clothing, 56
Paleolithic, 25 Flat roofs, 98 99
Dietary staple, 47 Food production, 22 26,
Disaster housing, 109 40
Double insulation, 91 “Free radical” proteins, 35
Dovetailed eave beam, 93 Fruits, 28
“Edenism”, 191 196 Galileo, 187 188

Edgerton, Robert B., 191 Gang geng-lay, 66
Enset, 51 Generalizations, 162, 231
Environmental control, Genetics, 2
108 Geography of Time, 124
“Environmentally friendly Glacial Epoch, 3 4, 6, 7
aircleaning system”, Global economy, 3,
114 177 178, 229
Eskimos, 87, 89, 107 108 Global energy-related
Alaskan Nunamiut, emissions, 216
88 89 Global warming, 210, 212
outfit, 60 Grasses, 101 106
See also Igloo thread, 58 59
Etounga-Manguelle, “Great conveyor”, 213
Daniel, 194 Green bamboo culms, 102
“Event time”, 124 127, Green revolution,
137 139 141, 149
Extraction technologies, Greenhouse gas, 222
189 190 emissions, 224
Index 249
Grim and Wilson’s theory, Homo tyrolensis. See

46 “Iceman”
Gross domestic product Hot climates in Egypt, 99
(GDP), 220 Houses, 98 99
Gross national product per Human
capita (GNP/cap), 178 cultural values and
“Guadua”, 101 104 attitudes, 17
Guangzhou, 217 218 evolution, 3 7, 25
Guanxi. See Relationship higher civilization, 10 13
Gupta, Sanjay, 35 rise of civilizations, 7 10

Hunter-gatherers, 25
Hall, Edward, 133 135, ancient, 55
137 138, 146, 147, human, 45
164, 167, 175, 190, impermanence of
204 205 dwelling, 89
Hand-hewn beam, 93 of Kalahari, 148
Handbook of South Yahgan, 78
American Indians, 78
Handshake, 169 “Iceman”, 58 59
Happiness, 163 166 Igloo, 88
in workplace, 166 171 See also Eskimos
Harsh climates, temporary Iglu. See Igloo
shelters in, 87 92 Improvisation, 171
Harvard Health Incentive systems, 174
Professionals Study, 29 India in milk production,
Health problems, 77 80 42
Heavy cloth, 90 Individualism, 154, 188
Heilbroner, Robert, assessments, 178 183
206 209 family unit, 159 163
Hemp, 62 63 genesis of civilization,
Hertsgaard, Mark, 156 157
214 215, 221 222 happiness, 163 172
Hierarchical time culture, issue of intellectual
132 133 property, 172 175
High efficiency particulate Joseph Campbells theory,
air (HEPA), 112 113 155 156
Hispanics, 165 politics, religion, and
Homes, 85 86 conflict, 175 178
250 Index
self-perpetuating system, Inuit community, 28, 59,

158 159 60, 87, 88, 107
West, 154 155 Irish potato famine
Individualism Index (IDV), (1845 1850), 14 15
157 158 Iron-rich laterites, 96
Individualist-centered Ironic debacle of West,
culture, 130 211 216
Individualists, 178 181 Irrigation systems, 140
cultures, 172 “Islam”, 38, 175, 176
individualist-centered It Was a Wonderful Life

culture, 130 (documentary film),
Indoor ecosystem, 114 160
Indus Valley, 9, 24
civilization, 8 Jakarta Post, 174
Industrial agriculture, 140 Joseph Campbell’s theory,
Industrial growth process, 155, 160
208
Industrial revolution, 14, Kalahari of Namibia, 89,
49, 70, 124, 125, 130, 147, 148
140, 151, 187 Kalakukko, 26
Industrialism, 130 131 Kim, Eugene, 124,
Industrialization, 125, 129 126 128, 132, 137,
Ingenuity, 92, 105, 138, 180
157, 183 Kitenge, 65 66
“Inhabitants of Rennell Kuas, 89 90
Island”, 64
Inquiry into the Human Lakew, Brook, 51
Prospect, 206 Lamb, H. H., 10, 11, 14,
Intellectual property issue, 72
172 175 Land-reform program, 141
Intensification, 149 Language, 2
International Council on Levine, Robert, 125 131,
Monuments and Sites 136, 154, 160,
(ICOMOS), 110 163 166, 204
International deal-making, Life, basic necessities of,
170 229
“Interpersonal warmth”, Lifestyle choices, 22
194 Litigiousness, 158
Index 251
Little Climatic Optimum, Nepotism, 171

13 14 Network economy, 169,
“Longhouses”, 94 171
Low-pitched gabled roof, New England Journal of
93 Medicine, 33
Luther, Martin, 187 New York Times Book
Review, 205
Madagascar, 126, 129 Non-Western cultures, 230
granary, 140 Northern diets, 26 30
green revolution, 140 Northern Europe

independence, 141 acidic soils, 96
Magnesium, 44 agricultural civilization,
Marriage 138
in collectivist societies, agricultural resources,
161, 162 148 149
in individualist West, 160 alcohol consumption, 36
Mavila, Octavio, 195 beer in, 2
McMansions, 107 climate, 74, 122, 198,
Mechanical clocks, 124 211
Mediterranean clothing, 71
climate in, 9, 23 food culture, 29 30, 34
diet, 30 33, 40 genes, 33
merchants, 9 Glacial Epoch, 3
subsistence-farming home-building, 85
peasant, 10 human migration, 6
wine in, 2 Industrial Revolution,
Mineral-based dyes, 63 187
Mobility, 229 230 Nuclear family, 49,
Modern Western 158 160, 162, 167
technology, 229
Mud, wonders of, 96 101 Oceanic recession, 6 7
“Oetzi”. See “Iceman”
Namesake, The, 161 “Oil shock” (1973),
“Natural” resource, 189 206 207
Neanderthal ancestors, 55 Old Canton. See
Neck dimple, 69 70 Guangzhou
Necktie(s), 68 70, 72, 80 Oliver, Paul, 87 89, 92,
Nelson, Richard, 199 200 95, 96, 104, 107 109
252 Index
Olubuggo, 65 See also “Islam”

Omega-3 fatty acids, 29 Rice, 139
“One-child” policy, Roach, Mary, 28
219 220 Romantic love, 156, 160
Open society, 209 Roof overhead
Orchestration, 171 climatic explanations for
Osteoporosis, 25 cultural differences,
Outdoor environments, 116
114 construction, 93 96
disaster housing, 109

Paleolithic diet, 25 Eskimo, 107 108
Paneer, 41 homes, 85 86
Parfit, Michael, 6 7 house-building in tropics,
Paz, Octavio, 193 101 106
Pleistocene, 4 5, 22, 25 ICOMOS, 110
Pluralist response, sick shelters, 111 114
196 201 temporary shelters in
Poles, 101 106 harsh climates, 87 92
Politics, 175 178 wonders of mud, 96 101
Potassium, 44 Roth, Leland, 100,
Power distance index 109 110
(PDI), 203
“Power time”, 143 Sachs, Jeffrey, 188
Primary Chronicle, 38 Salt-deficiency illnesses, 44
Primates, 4 “Salt-gene” theory, 45
Primitive peoples, 86 Saponins, 52
Punctuality, 122 Saporito, Bill, 71
Sarbanes Oxley Act, 171
Reeds, 101 106 Sayer, Chloe, 106
Refined wheat flour, 47 Scarves’ function, 69
Relationship, 168 169, Self-interest, 178
182 Self-perpetuating system,
Relativists, 197 198 158 159
Religion, 2, 175 178 Sequence-of-appearance
religious collectivism, principle, 139
155 Shan ku, 61, 63
religious-magical system, Shelters
201 sick, 111 114
Index 253
temporary shelters in Teff. See Dietary staple

harsh climates, 87 92 Temperate climates,
Shweder, Richard, clothing for, 61 63
197 198 Temporary shelters in
Sick house syndrome, 112 harsh climates, 87 92
“Silent killer”, 43 Territorial behavior,
Silk, 62 63 144 145
Simpatia cultural script, 165 Territorial Imperative,
Simpatico, 165 The, 144
Sinking process, 213 Territoriality, 148 149

Skinken-burger, 27 Textile garments, 56
Social and cultural factors, Three-dimensional spaces,
43 146 147
Social customs, 2 “Tight houses”, 111 112
Social pathologies, 148 Timber houses, 95
Socializing, 137, 168 Timber-walling methods, 95
Solomons, Dr. Noel, Time, 126, 137
47 48 artificial temporality, 144
“Sour liver”, 27 28 attitudes toward,
“Star” culture, 166 121 122, 128,
Stranger density, 148 133 134
Subsistence-farming Civilization and Climate,
peasant, 10 134 135
Substitute beverages, 2 “clock time” vs. “event
Sumerians, 8 9 time”, 124 126
Sumptuary laws, 67 clock-centered lifestyle,
Sun protection factor 131 132
(SPF), 74 75 culture, 127 129,
Suo yi, 61 135 137
“Superlatively good food”, democratic time culture,
30 36 132 133
individualist-centered
Taboo days, 141 142 culture, 130
Tailored skin clothing, 60 industrialism, 130 131
Taos Pueblo, 100 note on space, 144 151
Taxes, 181 oral tradition, 139 140
“Team” sports, 166 167 perspective of cultures,
Technology, 202 206 138 139
254 Index
poverty, 123 Vodka, Russian spice of

power time, 143 144 life, 36 38
punctuality, 122 Volatile organic compounds
sequence-of-appearance (VOCs), 114
principle, 139
silence, 126 127 War in Iraq, 150 151
warm climates, 122 123, Warm climates, 56,
138 122 123, 138
Time Wars, 143 culture, 147, 167
Tipis, 91 Warmer-climate cultures,

Total Health magazine, 113 147 148
Tract housing, 107 Wearing
Traditional construction climate, 80 81
techniques, 111 climate vs. fashion, 72 77
Triandis, Harry, 220 clothing, 55
Troglodyte village, 95 clothing as symbol,
Tropical agriculture, 190 66 68
Tropical attire, 64 66 clothing for temperate
Tropical climates, 64, 101 climates, 61 63
Tundra region, 60 61 cold climates, 56 57
cold-weather clothes,
Unfavorable geography, 190 58 61
“Universal diet” guidelines, fashion’s tight noose,
49 68 72
Urban environments, 103 health problems, 77 80
tropical attire, 64 66
Vaginitis, 77 Western society, 229
Vegetables, 28, 63 Western-style
Vegetarian diets, 44 consumerism, 211,
Vegetation line, 36 218
Verbal agreements, 169 Willow wands, 88 89
“Vernacular” structure, Wilson, Thomas, 44
86, 102 World Archaeology, 60
Vertical collectivism, 182 World Bank management,
Vertical integration, 173 215
Vesilind, Priit J., 16
Victorian era, 73 Yahgan, 78
Vitamins, 28 immune system, 79

Genes, Climate, and Consumption Culture (Connecting The Dots)

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

You might also like

Genes, Climate, and Consumption Culture (Connecting The Dots)

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Genes, Climate, and Consumption Culture (Connecting The Dots)

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Genes, Climate, and Consumption Culture

Connecting the Dots

Consumption Culture. Emerald Publishing Limited 2017.

Access to this document was granted through an Emerald subscription

*Related content and download information correct at time of

Connecting the Dots

This page intentionally left blank

United Kingdom North America Japan

First edition 2017

Copyright r 2017 Emerald Publishing Limited

Reprints and permissions service

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

ISBN: 978-1-78743-412-7 (Print)

Certificate Number 1985

This book is dedicated to my writer, John Yow,

This page intentionally left blank

Introduction: Climate and the History of Man 1

1. We Are Where We Eat 21

4. Your Time or Mine? 121

5. Individualism and Collectivism 153

6. Embrace of Technology and Dominion over

I would like to thank several individuals who helped me in

writing, editing, and formatting this manuscript.

This page intentionally left blank

My interest in climate and its inﬂuence on consumption goes

The year was 1955. It was further reinforced when I special-

I am now intrigued whether digital technology and social

climate cultures? Nobody knows for sure.

A few years ago, I was involved in a study for Coke

countries were drinking more Coke than afﬂuent ones. So

of difference from country to country. So this theory went

Of one thing I was certain: In our increasingly global econ-

terns of consumption. I must say, I have found these

THE EVOLUTION OF MAN

and extended as far south as St. Louis, Chicago, Cleveland,

of his ape-like ancestors — were originally tropical animals.

the tree apes have taken up residence on the ground. What

going to have to climb down out of their Edenic tree-top

new glaciation cooled and dried the area, transforming it into

meant crossing the Straits of Malacca and Sunda Strait. But

their descendants occupying North and South America within

bility that the original Americans were not Asian but

Going where the sun keeps shining through the

Skipping over the ocean like a stone.

THE RISE OF CIVILIZATIONS

Some writers are wary of attributing too much importance to

4500 years ago. These ancient people, write Schneider and

6000 years ago, when New Mexico and Arizona were

places, with warm temperatures, plenty of water, and rich,

faring westward, bore the enticements and vices of civiliza-

CLIMATE AND HIGHER CIVILIZATION

Following his own argument to its logical conclusion,

the climate-based shift from subsistence to commercial farm-

BC — an era when the world’s weather was warm and wet,

raiding Egypt. The moving force behind this upheaval, he

spiritual leadership and exhortations to get back to the laws

So, then, we have the climate to thank for human evolu-