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EVOLUTION, MARXIAN BIOLOGY,
AND T H E SOCIAL SCENE
Other Books by Conway Zirkle
The Beginnings of Plant Hybridization
Death of a Science in Russia

Evolution, Marxian
Biology, and the
Social Scene
CONWAY ZIRKLE
Professor of Botany
University of Pennsylvania
Philadelphia
University of Pennsylvania Press
© 1959 by the Trustees of the University of Pennsylvania
Published in Great Britain, India, and Pakistan

By the Oxford University Press
London, Bombay, and Karachi
Library of Congress Catalogue Card Number: 58-11747
Printed in U. S. A.
Preface
it fell to my lot to describe the destruc-

S EVERAL YEARS AGO,
tion of genetics in Russia. (Death of a Science in Russia,
Philadelphia, 1949). Incredible as it may seem, the Russians
wiped out an entire science. But why they did—why they
destroyed what they had been cherishing and supporting—
was a question that could not be answered easily. T h e whole
affair was very puzzling. Ever since the early 1920's, the
Russians had been spending millions of rubles every year
in educating geneticists and in supporting genetic research.
T h e y had been relying on genetics—especially agricultural
genetics—for improving their food plants and their domestic
animals. Already their agricultural production had shown
a marked increase, and new and improved varieties were
being brought into cultivation. But, at the 1948 meeting
of the Lenin Academy of Agriculture, a group of politically
inspired charlatans attacked the Soviet geneticists and suc-
ceeded in liquidating Soviet genetics. Five geneticists
recanted and denied their scientific knowledge, seeking,
apparently, to secure their personal safety by confessing their
ideological errors.
T h e speeches at this meeting of the Academy were excep-
tionally revealing. T h e "line" taken by the winning coterie
told the world a great deal about the Communists—about
their beliefs and about their intellectual standards. It was
made very clear that the Marxian dogmas extend far be-
yond the social and political sciences, and penetrate well into
the biological. T h e orthodox Marxian Academicians not
only denounced genetics and called it a reactionary science,
5
6 Evolution, Marxian Biology, and the Social Scene
but also discarded as heresies all the advances made in the

study of evolution since the 1880's. As far as the Communists
were concerned, the "correct" explanations of evolution were
those that had been suggested before the time of Darwin.
The Russian comments on Charles Darwin were partic-
ularly striking. While Darwin himself was hailed as a hero
of science, as a man who had looked deeply into nature,
and who had advanced biology in the right direction, his own
great contribution to evolution was accepted only in part.
The speakers at this famous meeting referred constantly to
Darwin's errors and told how, time after time, he had to be
corrected by the "Marxist classicists." They quoted Marx
and Engels as authorities in biology, and derided and
denounced as false every part of the theory of evolution that
Marx and Engels had rejected. Obviously, one of the reasons
why the Communists destroyed genetics, if not the chief
reason, was the fact that it was incompatible with the
biological doctrines of Marx and Engels. Thus, the search
for the effective causes of the Russian destruction of genetics
led directly back to the dicta of the very founders of
communism.
At this point, it would be well to call attention to a wide-
spread misconception of the role played by Marx and Engels
in spreading the theory of evolution. It is well known that
they accepted evolution as a fact almost as soon as they read
Darwin's great book, The Origin of Species. There is a story
to the effect that Marx even wanted to dedicate Das Kapital
to Darwin (but this was an honor that Darwin declined).
Marx and Engles were evolutionists, and they rightly
enjoyed the reputation of being on the side of the scientists
in the controversy that arose when the theory of evolution
was winning the support of the scholarly world. An actual
examination of their writings, however, shows that they
Preface 7
accepted only a portion of the theory—only the fragments

that were compatible with their collectivistic ideals. They
drew a precise party line in the biology of their time and
this line still persists in the Communist world. In 1948, it
became an official doctrine in the Communist canon. When
this occurred—when the Soviet Union created and supported
an official science—evolution theory was crippled, and genet-
ics was destroyed. Their places were taken by a truly Marxian
biology.
These dramatic events startled the civilized world. Sci-
entists everywhere were brought face to face with the fact
that an officially-supported quackery had displaced a science
from nearly a third of the globe—an event unprecedented in
the history of mankind. Tragic as this was, all was not loss.
It served as a warning to the free world and it showed what
could happen in the twentieth century. It brought out into
the open the fact that a Marxian biology exists as a destruc-
tive, threatening, and well-organized cult. But in spite of the
glare of publicity that played upon these happenings, a
crucial fact was missed, that is, the fact that the Marxian
distortion of biology has been in existence over three quarters
of a century, in fact, ever since the Communist leaders first
learned about evolution. It has also played an important
role in shaping the Marxian ideologies. Moreover—and this
has completely escaped the attention of our scholars and
scientists—portions of this Marxian biology have penetrated
into our own scholarly world. It has actually infected our
own thinking on social and biological questions.
Now, and perhaps for the first time, we are in a position
to identify this Marxian distortion of a science and discover
how it has influenced our own better thought of attitudes.
Once we have traced its historical development we can show
how it has modified the growth and development of our
own beliefs and how it has pervaded our own thinking.

Today, it is imbedded not only in the writings of socialist
theoreticians and left-wing philosophers but in fields and
disciplines that, ostensibly, are not Marxian at all. It has
contributed to our present ideologies much more than
appears on the surface.
Today, our culture is exceptionally vulnerable to sim-
plistic doctrines and, consequently, to misinformation in
general; but this is not a unique phase in our intellectual
history. T h e human race has always been more or less
susceptible to error, and much of the history of ideas is
devoted to notions that are now demonstrably false. T h e
recent and enormous growth of our scientific information,
however, has brought problems and dangers of its own.
Our total knowledge is now practically out of control. It has
grown to a point where no single person can grasp it. In
order to handle it at all, we have had to divide it up—to
fragment it into specialties—and the best of us are competent
in no more than one or two of these specialized splinters.
But to achieve even this limited competence we have to
concentrate our interests, and expend so much of our time
and brains that we are forced to acquiesce in a superficial
acquaintance with—sometimes even a total ignorance of—
the other splinters. As individuals, we absorb misinformation
easily and our culture as a whole suffers. Our culture itself
is easily infected both in the cracks between the specialties
and in those complex fields where the pertinent data are
scattered in the brains of different specialists. Thus, it is
not remarkable that quackeries thrive among us and, at
times, even hinder the spread of knowledge from one
scholarly field to another.
Our learning has become so compartmentalized that in-
congruous and even contradictory beliefs persist in neighbor-
Preface 9
i n g fields. For over three quarters of a century, the science

of biology and its Marxian substitute have existed side by
side. Moreover, until very recently, neither the scientific
biologists nor those who accept the quack substitute for
biology seem to have been aware of the other's existence.
T h e biologists generally dismissed rather contemptuously
those w h o they thought were just a few odd-balls on the
fringe of their science, while those who accepted the Marxian
line seem to have been unaware that their beliefs had been
outgrown and rejected by the biologists. W e know now that
the scientific biologists and the Marxian cultists had almost
n o intellectual contacts. T h e y were very likely specialists in
different fields, and their co-existence was fostered by the
same sort of isolating mechanisms that separate our special-
ists. A n d these mechanisms are very effective! T o illustrate
with one example: an almost complete breakdown in com-
munication has occurred between the biological and the
social sciences and this, incidentally, has made the latter
especially vulnerable to Marxian biology. W e may even say
that an asbestos curtain has descended between these two
fields and that, until this curtain is pierced, a great deal
of misinformation will go unchallenged.
Of course, there are other factors that have contributed to
the persistence of Marxian biology. O n the whole, it is in
keeping with our humanitarian and altruistic urges, and it
promises us (or our children) an easy escape from the un-
pleasant and perturbing complications of living in an im-
perfect society—of living in surroundings to which we are
not completely adapted. T h e n , too, the Marxian doctrines
have always attracted many sensitive and well-meaning
people. But over and above these assets, the Marxian line in
biology has an advantage that w e are only beginning to
appreciate. It remained simple and understandable, while
the biology that it denounced grew complex and technical-

well beyond the grasp of the generality.
Moreover, the Marxian rulings are authoritarian and
absolute. No Marxian need ever be in doubt as to which bio-
logical doctrines are "correct," and which are in error. For
those members of our species who crave certainty, such
definitive rulings have long been available—rulings trimmed
to fit an appealing ideology and thus comforting to all true
believers. On the other hand, the science of biology has
nothing really pleasing to offer. Indeed, no living, growing
science can ever serve as a refuge for the intellectually weary.
It can never attain the absolute or establish a completely
stable creed. But even if honest scientists cannot attain
absolute "truth," they can and do recognize misinformation
(and this recognition is one of the major factors in the prog-
ress of science). And good scientists must, as a part of their
professional duties, expose charlatans and refute quackery.
But in spite of the intrinsic, human appeal of Marxian
biology, it would hardly have infected our ideology to the
extent it has, if it had not been supported—indirectly but
nevertheless supported—by an active political group. During
the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, powerful
socialistic parties flourished in most of the advanced nations.
Convinced socialists were active in almost all fields of human
endeavor. Socialists were especially well represented in the
intelligentsia. They made great contributions to art, letters,
and even to science. Some socialists were exceptionally able
and some of them made a marked impact upon our present,
dominant, ideology. But in general, socialists were not
acquainted with the technical advances in biology and so,
perhaps unintentionally, they fostered and spread the bio-
logical doctrines that Marx and Engels had found acceptable.
Over and beyond this incidental support by the socialists,
Preface 11
Marxian biology has recently acquired a new ally. It has

received powerful aid from Communist propaganda. Ever
since the Communists came into power, they have set out
deliberately to explain away, or denounce as false, every fact,
idea, or principle that does not fit into their own scheme of
things. In the countries where they have political control,
they have made Marxian biology an official doctrine, while
in the rest of the world, they have devoted their propaganda
apparat to advancing its principles. In disciplines isolated
from biology proper, they have been unusually successful,
for in these disciplines they have met with no real opposition.
The extent to which Marxian biology has infected our
culture and our learned specialties is truly startling. After all,
the doctrine has been with us a long time, and it has never
lacked an opportunity for invading the minds of the tech-
nically untrained. It did especially well during what has been
called the "Age of Innocence." It is not feasible to trace here
its entire course, for to do so would require writing not only
a background history of evolution and genetics—the sciences
it distorts and misrepresents—but also a history of all of our
social sciences, of our humanities, and of those notions that
we seem to absorb from the prevailing climate of opinion.
Marxian biology is incorporated in much of our modern
literature and, of course, in all Marxian philosophy. But
to describe the complete course of its penetrance is, luckily,
not the task of the present writer. Perhaps, some of the
future historians of ideas will undertake the work.
The following pages have a much more limited objective,
but, even so, they have to cover a great deal of territory,
enough in fact to raise some real auctorial problems. T o
remain within a single and neatly integrated field is, of
course, a desideratum of all well-brought-up writers, but no
author can follow the peregrinations of Marxian biology
even a little way and not wander a bit himself. Certainly, he
cannot remain at h o m e in his own specialty. Nor would a
description of M a r x i a n biology have any real meaning for
anyone not a biologist if it did not include, as background
material, some account of the biological sciences that the
Marxians have misrepresented. B u t to cover all this in a
single book strains the classical unities to the limit—perhaps
it even cracks them. T h i s is too bad, of course, and we regret
it, but the subject m a t t e r seems to d e m a n d a certain a m o u n t
of wandering.
T h e writer believes that the most economical way of
achieving his objective of showing how a quackery has
penetrated into our scholarly world, and how it has limited
o u r information and affected o u r thinking is, first, to trace
its history, point out the invading doctrines, and date their
impact on our ideologies. But to do this effectively—to
demonstrate the falsity of the doctrines—it is necessary also to
trace a second history—a c o n c u r r e n t history of the sciences
that have been misrepresented. In this way, the reader can
be given the data that may enable him to make an informed
judgment. Once we have these two histories, we are in a
sound, logical position. We can, by using them as co-
ordinates, locate and evaluate the quack notions n o m a t t e r
where or in what disciplines they appear.
Needless to say, both of the histories, elementary as they
are, have to be traced according to the internal logic of
their own development; and this means that they will contain
many items that are not directly applicable to the numerous
fragments of Marxian biology that are scattered throughout
o u r scholarly specialties. In this connection, the writer can
only ask the reader to be charitable and to bear patiently
with the e x t r a and, perhaps, impertinent information.
N o attempt is made here to follow the M a r x i a n line into
Preface 13
all of the fields that it has infected. For purely practical

reasons, the coverage is limited rather sharply and some-
what arbitrarily to fields where the line is most easily
identified and where the evidence of its existence can be
presented most economically. T h e fields chosen for this
survey include one from the humanities—English and Ameri-
can literature—and one from the social sciences—sociology.
In the following pages, only passing reference will be made
to the Marxian biology incorporated in other disciplines and
to its impact on public opinion.
In preparing this book for the press, I have not hesitated
to impose on my friends and colleagues. Professor Ralph O.
Erickson has read all of the chapters that deal with evolution
and genetics, and has made many valuable comments. Pro-
fessor Robert Spiller has given me the benefit of his criticisms
on the first chapter and on the chapter that deals with belles
lettres (Chapter IX). Four members of the University of
Pennsylvania Department of Sociology, Professor R e x Craw-
ford, Dr. A. H. Hobbes, Dr. Everett Lee, and Professor
Dorothy Thomas, have read and criticized the chapter,
"Marxian Biology and Sociology." I have found their com-
ments very helpful, but I do not wish to imply that they are
in agreement with all that the chapter c o n t a i n s .
Dr. Elizabeth Flower has kindly read Chapter V and Dr.
Jeannette Nichols Chapter VIII. I am grateful for their
comments. I am especially indebted to my friend, Mr. L.
Sprague DeCamp, who has read the greater part of the
manuscript and has striven manfully to keep me from writing
in "professorese." My wife, Helen Kingsbury Zirkle, as usual,
has read the entire manuscript and made a number of valu-
able suggestions. I wish, finally, to acknowledge with thanks
the financial assistance of a University of Pennsylvania Fac-
ulty Research Grant.
Contents
Preface 5
1. Our Evolutionary Background 19
2. The Theory of Evolution ca. 1870 57
3. The Beginnings of Marxian Biology 81
4. The Development of Evolution Theory from
1870 to 1900 114
5. The Impact of Evolution on Society and on the
Social Studies 146
6. The Machinery of Heredity, 1900-50 186
7. Evolution Theory in the Twentieth Century 217
8. Evolution and the Future of Mankind 249
9. Marxian Biology and Beautiful Letters 292
10. Marxian Biology in the Communist World 353
11. Marxian Biology and Sociology 416
12. Epilogue 481
Bibliography 501
Index 521
EVOLUTION, MARXIAN BIOLOGY,
AND THE SOCIAL SCENE
L Our Evolutionary
Background
§1
ODAY, practically every educated man believes in

evolution—believes that the two ar three million species
that now inhabit the earth are descended from a few, or even
from a single primordial source. T o this extent, evolution is
incorporated in the thinking of our time. But the mere
acceptance of evolution does not imply an understanding of
it—certainly it does not imply an understanding of what
brought it about or how it operates in producing new
species from old. With the exception of a few highly
specialized biologists, those who accept evolution seem to do
so on a purely verbal level. A m o n g the educated, however,
evolution is now an accepted fact, but as soon as its validity
is admitted, it seems to be filed away in some otherwise
unused compartment of the mind and placed, as it were, in
dead storage. It is true that "evolution" has displaced "special
creation" and this represents a gain, for it allows a natural
explanation to displace a supernatural one. Otherwise, the
theory of evolution has but little influence on our current
canons of thought. Few, even among the educated, are con-
cerned with its causes or its consequences, and almost no one
outside of the biological fraternity seems to be aware of the
fact that evolution is relevant to human beings and to human
affairs.
19
Three generations ago, however, evolution was an exciting

topic, but today it has dwindled into a mere "academic"
subject, that is, to all except the professionals in the field.
This, in spite of the fact that, during the last twenty years,
a real renaissance has taken place in evolutionary research,
and that new discoveries have again made evolution into
a very lively science. All books on evolution over twenty years
old are now obsolescent, and any thinking that is based on
them only is incomplete and uninformed. T h e subject is
alive and growing rapidly. Today, a number of first rate
scientists are active in the field and they have made, and
are making, basic contributions to our knowledge of the
forces that have made all living things as they are.
Obviously, if man himself has evolved, it follows that
everything about him has evolved, his bodily structures and
his physiological reactions, his moral and ethical standards,
his cultures and his social organizations, and even his
religions. Nearly everything that we have learned about
the causes of evolution has a direct bearing upon the social
and political questions that face us, and upon the answers
that we find acceptable.
Thus, the pertinent data from the field of evolution cannot
be ignored in any valid interpretation of human behavior,
or in any sound ordering of human affairs. This is not to
argue, however, that the evolutionary or the biological
aspects of human society should overshadow all others or
that data of equal importance cannot be derived from other
sources. T h e contrary is true. Man and his society form
a complex interacting system—a system that no one simple
doctrine can ever encompass or explain. Nor can the whole
complex ever be observed from a single viewpoint. If we
are ever to understand the system well enough to adjust
ourselves to it rationally—to live with ourselves comfortably
Our Evolutionary Background 21
—we shall have to utilize all of the knowledge that we can

get from every source that is available—certainly from all the
sciences that are relevant. T o ignore any pertinent data is
to court disaster. It is especially dangerous to plan a new
society for a better future while remaining ignorant of the
biological potentialities and limitations of the creature for
whom the future is planned.
Those restless and creative minds, that have devised the
almost countless plans for improving the lot of humanity,
have all assumed that they had the data that they needed
for designing a better world and that their altruistic projects
were really immanent in Creation itself. As a rule, they were
not aware of all the assumptions they made—most of their
postulates were tacit—but they designed their reforms (or
their Utopias) in the light of some current belief as to the
nature of man and as to where he belonged in the universal
scheme of things. They would have been on firmer ground,
naturally, if they had actually known where human beings
had come from, why they existed in the universe, and what
had produced them in the first place. Needless to say, all of
these would-be benefactors were men of great faith, and all
were convinced that they knew the answer to the fundamen-
tal questions. But very few of them made their background
assumptions clear or stated their postulates explicitly. T h e i r
notions as to the kind of world they lived in, though, are
implicit in the improvements they sought to effect.
In a few instances, however, they stated their assumptions
openly. In the middle ages, for example, when practically
everyone believed that man was created by a special act of the
Deity, it seemed obvious that anyone who wished to benefit
mankind would have to know just what the designs of the
Creator were—know what He had in mind when He created
man—because any change for the better would, by the very
nature of things, have to be compatible with the Divine
purpose. The famous revolutionary chant of the fourteenth
century:
When Adam delved and Eve span,
Who was then the gentleman?
is an excellent illustration of this—of justifying a proposed
reform by fitting it into the accepted belief as to the origin
of the human race and, thus, into the overall plans of the
Deity. By this couplet, the followers of Wat Tyler implied
very reasonably that, as all men were really blood brothers,
their separation into rigid feudal classes was a most un-
natural arrangement.
Another instance of the use of the supposed origin of man
to justify a social order occurred in the sixteenth century,
when a queer problem faced the Spaniards who had explored
the New World. The Spaniards learned, somewhat belatedly,
that they really had discovered a new world. The problem
was: where had the Indians come from? Were they descended
from Adam or were they true autochthons? The answer, of
course, had both a practical and a theoretical application.
If the Indians were descended from Adam, they had souls,
and, like the rest of mankind, were guilty of original sin.
Consequently, it was the duty of the Spaniards to baptize
them and convert them to Christianity. The Indians then
would be real human beings and should have all the priv-
ileges and duties of such. On the other hand, if they were
autochthons, they would have no souls and would be only a
kind of animal, and the Spaniards could very properly
enslave and domesticate them along with the other useful
mammals. Needless to say, the Spaniards decided that the
Indians were descended from Adam and had souls which
should be saved, and, because of this decision, they under-
took their great mission work.
Still another illustration is furnished by the controversy

over slavery which arose in the United States in the early
nineteenth century. Here, the biblical history of the human
race was used to support a challenge status quo. In our
Southern states, Negro slavery was sometimes justified by
claiming that the Negro was descended from Ham, one of
the sons of Noah. While this assumption made the slaves and
their owners kin, about one-hundred-thirtieth cousins, it did
not imply that they should have equal privileges or rights,
for, according to Holy Writ, Ham had sinned and his
progeny was to suffer the punishment of servitude. Negro
slavery, thus, was held to be compatible both with Nature
and with the wishes of Nature's God.
Later in the century, when the theory of evolution was
generally accepted, the basic assumptions as to man's origin
shifted. Obviously, any discovery that shed light on where
man had come from or what had made him would tell a great
deal about the sort of a creature he was and about what
would be good for him. Thus, the knowledge of what caused
evolution became necessary and even urgent to those who
were concerned with man's future.
At first, not much was known about what made species
evolve. All that was available was some important but in-
complete data pieced out with a number of reasonable
assumptions, but, even so, evolution offered great hopes to
those who were seeking to improve the lot of mankind.
The new doctrine was really exciting.
This era, the latter half of the nineteenth century, was
perhaps the most optimistic period in all history. Progress
itself seemed to be a part of nature. Evolution had produced
man from an ape-like ancestor and seemed bent on improving
him still further until, ultimately, he would become a super-
man. The eugenic movement, as conceived by Francis
Galton, developed logically in the spirit of the times. It
actually proposed that man take over and direct his own
evolution and make himself into a being worthy of the brave
new world, the world whose advent appeared so imminent.
Galton based his eugenic program upon the limited
knowledge of evolution and heredity that was available at
the time. He did the best he could with what he had, but
others were not so conscientious. Some of his followers
became true zealots and even sought to apply to the human
race the selective breeding that had "improved" the domestic
breeds. Competing ideologists also sought support from the
newer knowledge, even though they could obtain the sup-
port only by picking and choosing among the new discoveries
just those that were compatible with their long-held and
well-loved doctrines. Karl Marx, for example, did not accept
or reject biological theories according to the objective
evidence of their validity but according to the way they fit
into his schemes of social reform. Thus even at this early
date, he established a party line in biology, for he insisted
that his devotees should conform to his teachings. He was, as
we know, never one to tolerate the slightest deviation in any
of his followers.
T h e biological principles which impinged on the Marxian
Weltanschauung were those used to explain evolution. Later,
when the new science of genetics contributed to our under-
standing of the subject, it also became revelant to the beliefs
of the Marxians and, of course, it is still relevant. Today, the
Marxian line in evolution and genetics is still followed by
the Communists 1 and, surprisingly enough, is still respect-
able in a number of other quarters.
1 "In his time Darwin was unable to free himself from the theoretical mis-
takes which he committed. These errors were discovered and pointed out
by the Marxists classicists." Lysenko, 1948.
As we have stated earlier, biology has advanced an

enormous distance during the past century, and now most of
the hypotheses of the early evolutionists have been tested
thoroughly. Many of them were found to be inconsistent with
the growing body of knowledge and have been discarded.
Others have survived a most extensive experimental inves-
tigation and are now accepted as true—in the sense that any-
thing is considered "true" in an experimental science.
Because a growing science cannot be limited by dogma or by
ex cathedra directives, the biology of today is completely at
odds with the static biology of the Marxians. If we wish to
learn the full extent of the present Marxian aberration, we
will have to know something at least about human evolution,
for it is in this field that the aberration started, and it is in
this field that it deviates most from the science of today.
§2
Human beings have been on earth about one million years.

If the reader wishes to add or subtract a quarter of a million
years to this period, he may do so and remain well within
his rights. If he insists on adding or subtracting a half million
years, no biologist could really object. One million years,
however, is a fair approximation of the time our ancestors
have been human and it is a period easy to remember. Of
course, we must insist on the word "about" in the original
statement, and we should call attention to the fact that a
precise estimate of the time is impossible. We can agree that,
at some time in the distant past, our ancestors were human
and that, at another and still earlier time, they were pre-
human. As our knowledge increases and our data become
more precise, we can decrease somewhat the interval between
the two periods. But we can never reduce the interval
completely because the change from a pre-human to a human
status did not occur sharply or suddenly. Any attempt to state
exactly when our ancestors became human would involve
us in arbitrary and meaningless definitions.
Our pre-human ancestors lived in trees and our human
ancestors lived on the ground, and this change from an
arboreal to a terrestrial habitat is obviously connected with
their acquiring a human status. Certainly, the changes in
habitat and in status overlapped. Indeed, the stimulus of a
drastic alteration in our ecology might well have been the
immediate cause of our great evolutionary advance. Before
the change, our ancestors were tree living apes who foraged
occasionally on the ground and after the change they were
land living, but still ape-like creatures who climbed into the
trees when they were menaced by the larger carnivores. Even
today, our ability to climb a tree in extremis has saved many
lives.
The descent from the trees certainly changed our ancestors
in many ways over and beyond the physical, anatomical
adaptations to a life on land. For one thing, it gave them a
much greater territorial range. When they were arboreal,
their habitat was sharply circumscribed and, although they
were very active, their mobility was poor. Even open glades
or fertile prairies were barriers to their wanderings. They
were confined to the tropical forests, and they could not pass
from one forest to another with any facility. Wide rivers
were uncrossable as were all mountains higher than the tree
line. Drier regions, where the trees were sparse and scattered,
were also uninhabitable. We can get a fair idea of how our
ancestors lived at this stage of their development by observ-
ing the monkeys who are still living in the trees.
The genus which evolved into Homo, like the genera of
monkeys, was composed of a number of different species,
but the range of each species was limited to a small area. T h e

number of individuals in each species must also have been
small because the habitat provided only a limited amount of
suitable food. Our ancestors could not eat the coarse vegeta-
tion as did the herbivores, nor could they obtain meat in
quantity, for, at this phase of their evolution, they were not
skilled hunters.
As our ancestoral genus became better adapted for making
short forays on the ground, its range expanded. It overcame
some minor barriers to migration and it acquired more
sources of food. The total population must also have in-
creased but probably the number of different species, which
lived within a given range, decreased. We can be fairly
certain of this because the proliferation of species requires
barriers—requires isolating mechanisms—and, as the genus
Homo became terrestrial, the earlier barriers no longer
served to isolate the breeding groups. This does not mean
necessarily that the total number of hominoid species
decreased, because, as our progenitors became better adapted
to life on land, they extended their range enormously, and
they soon had much more room in which different species
could evolve.
When we try to determine just where our ancestors lived
at any one time, we are faced with a puzzle which has not
yet been solved. The data are still too incomplete to help us
much. Fossil remains of primitive human beings have been
found from Gibraltar to China and from England to Java.
Skeletons discovered in South Africa show that this continent
must also be included in the range. W e do know that at one
time or another primitive man wandered over the entire
Old World, but we do not know just how far his range
extended in any one era. It was certainly much less than the
whole region he covered in all of his wanderings, but we can-
not limit him to the territory marked out by his remains. T o

assume that he did not range where he left no fossils (or
where we have found no fossils) is, of course, completely
gratuitous. In the absence of barriers to migration, we are
forced to assume that he wandered great distances, that he
went wherever he could. H e had some limits, of course, for he
could not live in the Arctic until after he had learned to sew
and to make clothes of skins. At times, too, his range con-
tracted. During the several ice ages, he had to retreat before
the glaciers, but then he lived in regions which are now
deserts but which were well-watered during the advances of
the ice sheets.
In his earlier terrestrial stages, man could not cross wide
seas or straits, so when we find his remains on islands, we take
it for granted that he arrived there when the islands were
connected to the larger land masses. W e are safe in assuming
that, during the million years we assign to our human
ancestors, they expanded into all possible regions of the
O l d World, migrated during the climatic changes, stopped
temporarily before seas, deserts, and mountains, but passed
on or around these impediments whenever the changing
climates or topographies made the barriers passable.
During the greater part of their existence as human beings,
our ancestors probably lived in small, partially isolated
breeding groups which were comparable in size with those of
the other primates. Sometimes, the groups may have been
no larger than single families, and the difficulties of obtaining
food make it extremely unlikely that they were as large as
the groups in which the more social monkeys live. As
evolution progressed and as their skill in obtaining food
increased, the groups naturally became larger until, late in
the story, our ancestors lived in small tribes. During this
whole period, inbreeding was prevalent but, as few groups
were entirely isolated from their neighbors, a certain a m o u n t

of cross-breeding also took place. This state of affairs is
close to o p t i m u m for speedy evolution. T h e inbreeding itself
had certain evolutionary advantages as it brought recessive
defects out into the open where they could be eliminated by
natural selection, while the genie migrations from neighbor-
ing groups brought in new factors, corrected the evil effects
of inbreeding, and supplied a certain amount of variability
to the stock—again a necessary condition for natural selection
to be effective.
T h i s brings us to the most surprising characteristic of
h u m a n evolution and that is the almost incredible speed
with which it took place—the speed with which our ancestors
left the rest of the animal kingdom behind. 2 At the begin-
ning of the period they were only one genus among many
and not a particularly remarkable one at that. It is true that
they had a certain amount of brains and were perhaps as
intelligent as any of their competitors, as intelligent certainly
as a good chimpanzee, dog, horse, elephant, or parrot. At the
end of the period, they had no intellectual rivals in the
entire animal kingdom and were truly in a class by
themselves. Great as was this unprecedented increase in
intelligence, it occurred in a very small portion of the
evolutionary time scale. T h i s speed of our evolution deserves
emphasis for it is of major significance. It is only mentioned
here, but it will be discussed in detail later.
Of course all of the h u m a n and near-human groups did
not evolve at the same rate. Many of them, perhaps all that
were isolated for long periods, became stabilized, but these
need not concern us further. Here, we are interested not in
the hominid groups which fell behind but in our own
2 Loren C. Eiseley, Scientific American, 189:6:65-72 (1953).
ancestors. The rate of human evolution was not the average

rate at which the breeding groups evolved; on the contrary,
it was the maximum rate at which any group evolved. More-
over, this maximum rate was always exceptional. Perhaps,
it was limited to groups in certain favorable regions, in lands
where they were not completely isolated from other groups
and where they could exchange genes with their neighbors.
Evolution could proceed rapidly only where there were
collections of related groups, because no group could evolve
noticeably for any length of time if it were so isolated that
it could not get advantageous genes from other groups.
We can now picture the genus Homo as being spread
thinly over a great deal of territory and divided into many
—perhaps thousands of—breeding groups. Between many
neighboring groups, the barriers were minor, and were
crossed frequently. Many groups certainly amalgamated
temporarily but split up again when they migrated in search
of food. But this is not the whole picture. Major barriers,
such as deserts, seas, and mountain ranges also separated the
groups and prevented any universal migration of genes. In a
widespread genus which was evolving rapidly, the conditions
thus were ideal for rapid speciation.
Before we can estimate the number of human species
which existed at any one time, we shall have to remove
purely verbal difficulties, and this means entering a field of
controversy. Species are the most important single systematic
category used by evolutionists. Darwin, himself, called his
great book on evolution The Origin of Species. The writer
wishes to record here his own ideas on the subject and
states that he believes that species are objective units of
organic forms, but that they are also subjective conveniences
for those who would classify the various forms of life. This
dual aspect has naturally led to some confusion. Systematists
Our Evolutionary Background SI
are still looking for a definition of species which will satisfy

all specialists, but, naturally, they have not succeeded. A
definition which is pleasing to an ornithologist will be
wholly inadequate for a botanist, and one which suits a
paleontologist may leave a geneticist cold. On the other
hand, a definition so broad that it does not offend any of the
disciplines is too indeterminate and vague to be of any real
use. T h e difficulty may even be inherent in the subject itself.
If we believe that species have evolved and are still evolving,
it becomes impossible for us to define them in absolute terms.
Without going into the matter further, we will merely
record the fact that those who have specialized in studying
human fossils give the word species one meaning while the
zoologists, who work with living forms, give it another. We
will use the term here in a sense close to that of the zoologists,
but we will not accept the simple view held by many
zoologists that, if two forms can be crossed and their progeny
are fertile, they necessarily belong to the same species.8 Nor
shall we adopt the other extreme.
T o return to human evolution: At least in the beginning,
the conditions under which Homo evolved were optimum
for speciation, and, if these conditions had remained
constant, we should expect dozens of different species to have
evolved. Homo was a rapidly evolving genus, scattered over a
great area, living in different climates, and becoming adapted
to many new habitats. It was also divided into many popu-
lations separated by effective isolation mechanisms—all fac-
tors making for many species. T h e r e were forces, however,
working in the opposite direction. As our ancestors grew
more skillful in securing food and more people could live
3 Ernst Mayr, ("Taxonomic Categories in Fossil Homonids" Cold Spring
Harbor Symposia, 15:109-118, 1950) gives an excellent account of the con-
flicting systematic conventions.
in a given territory, the smaller groups tended to coalesce.

T h e very speed with which certain groups evolved served
to suppress or even exterminate their rivals. Increased human
motility tended to eliminate the lesser barriers so that the
isolated regions, suitable for species formation, decreased in
number. Thus, it is possible that, at no one time, were there
more than a very few species in existence. At last, toward
the end of our pre-civilized period, a single species, Homo
sapiens, overran the entire world and engulfed or extermi-
nated all its rivals. Today, there is but one species of man.
It might be well to insert here, parenthetically, the state-
ment that many gaps remain in our knowledge of human
prehistory. We cannot be sure that the overrunning of the
human world by a single species was a unique event. T h e
spread of Homo sapiens may have been only the last such
occurrence. If some such event had happened earlier, it
would have decreased the number of human species which
existed at any subsequent period.
Since historic times, all human beings have belonged to a
single species but to a species which is separated into a
number of varieties or races. Just how or when the different
races arose, however, we do not know. We can explain the
racial differences which exist today in at least two ways, but
we have no crucial facts which would make us prefer one
explanation to the other. Each hypothesis is a complete
explanation, but as they are not mutually exclusive, they
both may be valid in part.
The first hypothesis assumes that Homo sapiens spread
over the world and exterminated all other species or sub-
species of man. This species then had the whole world to
itself, and, living under many different conditions in many
different climates, it evolved along divergent lines as it be-
came adapted to its varied surroundings. This divergent
Our Evolutionary Background S3
evolution produced the existing races but, as sufficient time

has not yet elapsed, the races have not yet evolved into
different species. In general, this hypothesis pictures the
evolution of Homo sapiens as starting along a path similar
to that which the genus Homo itself had taken.
T h e second hypothesis assumes that, when Homo sapiens
overran its neighbors, it hybridized with them and thus
absorbed a certain number of genes from the species (or sub-
species) which it submerged. T h e differences between the
present races could then be explained by assuming that their
sapiens ancestors acquired their foreign genes from different
species (or sub-species) and that, in different regions, they
acquired them in different amounts. As far as we can tell,
the net effects of two such methods of race formation would
be the same, so we cannot accept one method and reject the
other. This brings up the interesting question as to what is
apt to happen when two or more species or varieties of man
make contact. T h e answer is not hard to find—what happens
is that human beings do practically everything that they are
capable of doing.
We have some fossil evidence as to what occurred when
Homo sapiens made contact with Homo Νeanderthalensis.
These two species met on a wide front, one extending
several thousand miles. In western Europe, the skeletal
remains show a clean break between those of Neanderthal
man and those of Cro-Magnon, the representatives of the
sapiens who supplanted him. Here, Neanderthal man was
exterminated and the view was originally held that the
"lesser breeds without the law" were simply liquidated by
members of our more aggressive and higher species (Osborn,
1915). T h e lesser breeds were even supposd to be the proto-
types of the gnomes and dwarfs of our folklore. Neanderthal
remains discovered in Palestine, however, tell a different
story. In the Carmel caves, a n u m b e r of skeletons have been

found intermediate between the two species and the evidence
is overwhelming that here, at least, Homo sapiens and Homo
Neanderthalensis hybridized (McCown and Keith, 1939). As
a consequence of the discovery of the Carmel skeletons, a
competing view arose. T h i s view is that when h u m a n species
or varieties come into contact they hybridize. T o express a
personal judgment, each of these contrasting views seems to
be too simple.
W e have one excellent historical example of two different
races making contact on a very wide front. Following the dis-
covery of America, the white man and the American Indians
met head on from Nova Scotia to Patagonia, and we know
from our records that what happened in one region is no
indication at all as to what happened in another. Along the
entire front, the invaders both slaughtered the aborigines
and hybridized with them, but which behavior pattern pre-
dominated varied from place to place. In some regions, the
modern populations show no trace of the aborigines. In other
regions, the modern populations are predominantly Indian.
In parts of South America, the European soldiery took native
concubines and begat hybrids, but subsequent migrations
from Europe changed the population more and more toward
the European norm. In other parts, however, the natives
seem to have absorbed the invading Spanish and only a slight
change took place in the pre-conquest stock. On the other
hand, the English fought the Indians, took their land, and
removed them to reservations. T h u s , where the English
settled, the Indians furnished almost no genes to the new
population. Certainly, no simple pattern of behavior can
describe all that happens when two h u m a n species or
races meet. T h e innumerable prehistoric migrations and
conquests m u s t also have p r o d u c e d effects at least as variable

as those which history has recorded.
O u r history lists i n n u m e r a b l e instances of m i g r a t i n g
peoples, of battles, wars, a n d conquests. Relatively civilized
nations have c o n q u e r e d b a r b a r i a n s a n d colonized their lands.
Barbarians have overthrown civilized countries a n d r e d u c e d
the c o n q u e r e d to serfdom. T h e i n v e n t i o n of writing, which
marks the d a w n of history, does n o t seem to have caused any
s h a r p break in the overall standards of h u m a n behavior. W e
are to some degree, at least, justified in e x t r a p o l a t i n g back-
w a r d the conduct patterns a n d ethical standards of early
historic times. Perhaps, the best record we have of an early
historic invasion is the account of the o n e led by J o s h u a into
Palestine. I n this account, the ethical standards of the invad-
i n g nation are actually a p a r t of o u r own m o r a l heritage.
H e r e , in the fifteenth century B.C., the highest possible
A u t h o r i t y gave a specific directive to a m i g r a t i n g people—a
directive which gives us an excellent sample of ancient
h u m a n conduct. From D e u t e r o n o m y (20: 13-16):
(13) And when the Lord thy God hath delivered it into thine
hands, thou shalt smite every male thereof with the edge of the
sword: (14) But the women and the little ones, and the cattle,
and all that is in the city, even all the spoil thereof, shalt thou
take unto thyself; and thou shalt eat the spoil of thine enemies,
which the Lord thy God hath given thee. (15) T h u s shalt thou
do u n t o all the cities which are very far off from thee, which are
not of the cities of these nations. (16) But for the cities of these
people, which the Lord thy God doth give thee for an inheritance,
thou shalt save alive nothing that breatheth.
H e r e , we find both hybridization a n d e x t e r m i n a t i o n pro-

v i d e d for in a single invasion. At least, it solved the r e f u g e e
p r o b l e m . Genocide is n o t a m o d e r n invention.
§3
T h e preceding section is little more than a sketch, an

elementary outline of human evolution. W e will have to
treat one aspect of our evolution more intensively, however,
even at the cost of pushing our inferences to the very limits
justified by our data. This more intensive treatment is
necessary because it deals with just that part of our ancient
prehistory which is pertinent to an understanding of the
biological factors which control our present and our future
evolution. W e must also include these biological factors in
any rational attempt to construct or maintain a healthy
society. In brief, we will consider how we evolved so far that
we left all other animals behind, and how Ave secured a status
so different from that of our nearest non-human relatives.
In emphasizing the difference between man and all other
animals, the writer finds himself in some rather bad company,
a company unseemly for any biologist to join, for it includes
both Fundamentalists and Marxians. T h e Fundamentalists
remove men from the animal kingdom and even deny that he
evolved, and this, of course, is in keeping with their religious
dogmas. T h e Marxians of today likewise remove man from
the biological world and place him in a sociological one, and
this removal aids them in evading the biology which is
incompatible with their social doctrines. 4 Many sociologists
also belong in this company for they emphasize man's
uniqueness and ignore his likeness to the rest of the animal
* "Soviet scholars categorically reject the attempts to apply biological laws
to social life. The development of society is subject not to biological but to
higher social laws. Every attempt to extend the laws of the animal world to
mankind means an attempt to lower man to the level of the beast." Prae-
sidium of the Academy of Science, U.S.S.R., December 14, 1948. William Jen-
nings Bryan went further than this and denied in 1925 that man was a
mammal.
k i n g d o m , and this serves a useful function f o r it helps them

a v o i d a n u m b e r of very p e r t u r b i n g complications. Never-
theless, if w e make an honest evaluation of man's place in
nature, w e must recognize that a great gap has opened u p
between his intellectual d e v e l o p m e n t and that of any other
l i v i n g creature, and this gap is much greater than any other
break f o u n d anywhere else in the w h o l e evolution of intel-
lect. W h i l e our k n o w l e d g e of evolution is n o w in a relatively
satisfactory state, i.e., w e can explain how evolution has oc-
curred in terms of known forces, 5 we shall still have to dis-
cover and evaluate the u n i q u e conditions in which the forces
operated if we are to explain how man became u n i q u e in any
m a j o r respect, in this case, in respect to his intellect. Any-
thing exceptional or peculiar that can be f o u n d in his evolu-
tionary history should be investigated intensively if w e are
e v e r to find a clue as to what caused man to leave all of his
relatives so far behind.
T h e first odd fact about the evolution of the human intel-

lect is the almost increditible s p e e d 6 with which it took
place. T h i s speed itself furnishes the best inkling as to the
conditions in which the factors of evolution operated. T h e
e v o l u t i o n of the human intelligence obviously proceeded at
a m a x i m u m rate, and, since a considerable amount is known
about the conditions which are o p t i m u m f o r rapid evolution,
w e should have little difficulty in i d e n t i f y i n g at least some of
the conditions. T h e general subject of the time element in
e v o l u t i o n has been given a very lucid and adequate exposi-
5 T h i s must not be taken to mean that we know all that is to be known
about evolution or that new and unexpected discoveries will not be made in
the field! Unlike the biologists of the nineteenth century, however, we do
not have to postulate the existence of unknown principles to explain the
known facts. Our explanation of evolution is complete, but a complete ex-
planation, of course, docs not have to be true.
β Loren C. Eiseley 1953, has emphasized this speed. H e even refers to it as
" T h e Explosion of Brains."
7
tion by Simpson, in a book invaluable for those technically
equipped to understand it. T h e reader is referred to this
work for a general treatment of this important subject. Here,
we will consider merely the application to h u m a n evolution
of the factors described by Simpson and, in addition to these,
a factor which, to the best of our knowledge, has not been
recognized or evaluated.
W e would expect that o u r ancestors, in changing from an
arboreal to a terrestrial habitat, would either become extinct
or evolve very rapidly. In fact, this change may have been the
m a j o r stimulus which started a species of ape on its evolu-
tionary path which led to its becoming h u m a n . T o quote
Simpson (p. 119), " I n small populations undergoing pro-
nounced shifts in environment and ecology, much higher
rates of evolution are possible and much greater fluctuation
of rate is probable." T h i s statement is based on adequate evi-
dence, b u t none of the copious data which Simpson gave will
be cited here. W e will be concerned only with showing that,
while the change of habitat of our ancestors was a factor in
the speed of their evolution, it was not the only factor and
probably not the most important one. T h e evolutionary
changes caused by the new habitat would, of course, be
adaptations fitting m a n k i n d for a life on land. These are not,
however, the most i m p o r t a n t evolutionary changes which oc-
curred in the h u m a n stock, n o r did they proceed far e n o u g h -
m a n is still badly adapted physically for a life on land.
Anyone can check his own unadaptation by trying to catch
a pet dog who insists on playing, or more simply, by going
barefooted. W e need not belabor the point of our inadequate
physical fitness for a life in "nature." W e have known for
some time that something has checked o u r evolution along a
7
George Gaylord Simpson, Tempo and Mode in Evolution (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1944).
path which would enable us to compete on even terms with

other land animals using only our " n a t u r a l " equipment. W e
do not have the speed of the cursorial animals who can out-
run the larger carnivores. (As this is written, just fifteen men
have run a mile under four minutes.) N o r do we have teeth
and claws which would enable us to stand our ground and
repel o u r enemies. Most of us, as very young children, have
felt acutely our lack of good fighting teeth and nails. Actually,
as land animals, our ancestors could neither run nor stand
their ground and fight. T h e y were saved from extinction
through their ability to evade their enemies by c l i m b i n g
trees. T h e y were able to stand their ground and face the
larger carnivores only after they had developed weapons.
Certainly our great difference from all other animals was
not caused by our descent from the trees, although this
change may have been an important stimulus. W h a t evidence
we have indicates the contrary—that this difference, expressed
in our ability to invent weapons, has actually slowed up our
direct physical adaptation. T h e n , too, we have additional
evidence from other and related animals who also made the
transition from the trees to the ground. O u r ancestors were
not the only apes who became terrestrial. Several groups of
baboons and their relatives also took to the ground and our
nearer relative, the gorilla, followed. Yet neither baboons
n o r gorillas, intelligent as they are, are on o u r side of the
great intellectual gap.
B e f o r e proceeding further, we should consider certain
basic principles of evolution which bear directly on the prob-
lem. T h e net effect of evolution, of course, is to develop and
conserve fitness. A species achieves an adaptation to its sur-
roundings as a result of its evolution, and the degree of its
adaptation becomes a m a j o r factor in the rate at which it
continues to evolve. For example, a species which is perfectly
adapted to its living conditions ceases to evolve. It has already

achieved its goal. It is true that such factors as mutation pres-
sure and, in small breeding groups, genie drift may cause it
to deviate from its norm, but natural selection is always work-
ing toward maintaining and restoring its adaptation. At the
other extreme, a species which is too unadapted also does not
evolve. It becomes extinct. Evolution is possible only when a
species is incompletely adapted to its environment, but its
unadaptation must be within limits. T h e maximum rate of
evolution can occur only when the amount of the maladjust-
ment is optimum.
When we consider the speed of our ancestors' intellectual
evolution, we can be certain that there was some factor in
their environment to which they were ill adapted and ill
adapted to just that degree which was optimum for rapid
progress. We will have to identify this factor if we are ever to
explain the direction and rate of their evolution. Actually,
the task need not be too difficult, for we already have a num-
ber of clues as to its nature. We also have a number of specifi-
cations which it must satisfy. We are even assisted in our
identification of the factor by the necessity of resolving an
apparent contradiction. We shall return to this point shortly,
after we have considered the actual evidence for the unprece-
dented speed with which human beings have acquired their
intellects.
Evolution, of course, does not proceed at a constant rate.
Sudden spurts are separated from each other by periods of
relatively slow change. For close to two billion years, our
ancestors evolved at the same rate as their relatives, the same
rate as other members of their genus, family, and order. In
fact, they often lagged behind their more radical competitors,
although they did remain in the main line of evolution. Dur-
ing the Age of Reptiles, when the great saurians dominated
the land areas, they remained small and relatively primitive.

During the greater part of the Age of Mammals also, they
were conservative and for a while they were left behind by
most of their contemporaries. Even today, we show traces o£
this evolutionary backwardness, for our skeletons are much
more primitive than are those of many other mammals, such
as horses and cows. It is only very recently that our own
unique evolution got under way, only during the last one-
twentieth of one per cent of the time our ancestors have been
in existence. But, when once this evolution started, it really
spurted ahead and we left all other forms of life far behind.
This spurt was, of course, almost entirely limited to the evolu-
tion of intellect, for our anatomical differences from our
nearer relatives are still only superficial.
Short in time as this spurt is—a mere million years—it did
not itself proceed at a constant rate. What evidence we have
indicates that it began slowly and acquired speed only during
the latter fraction of its course. When we trace our progress
from the more generalized monkey stock, we can distinguish
three separate evolutionary stages. Only in the last stage is
there any indication of a major increase in intellect. In the
first stage, we were accompanied by the apes, both African
and Asiatic, and our progress consisted of a marked increase
in the length of our arms in proportion to the length of our
trunks. During this phase, the anthropoid stocks evolved to-
gether. In the second stage, the anthropoid stock started to
separate. T h e chimpanzees and gorillas remained conserva-
tive; the orangs and gibbons developed still longer arms,
while our ancestors grew much longer legs (Schultz, 1950).
In the third and final stage, our ancestors lost their apelike
heads and acquired heads which were distinctly human
(Washburn, 1950).
It is worth emphasizing here that our bodies became man-
like before our heads did. T h i s is shown by the fossils of

Australopithicus, as this transitional form, a form very close
to our direct ancestral line, seems to be almost a composite
being. It retained an apelike head after its body had become
human. Of course, we cannot equate the development of hu-
man intelligence directly with the development of human
skulls, but we should note that human intelligence has been
found thus far only in human skulls. As human heads came
late on the scene, it appears probable that the greater part of
the intellectual differences between man and the apes also
came late—possibly within the last half million years. T h i s
would, indeed, indicate a most rapid evolution.
W h e n we try to account for the rate at which the human
intellect evolved, we are confronted with an apparent diffi-
culty in finding a maladjusting factor which could keep our
unadaptation at the optimum, and which can account for
both the speed and the amount of our u n i q u e evolution. If,
at any time, the degree of our unadaptation was optimum for
rapid progress, it would not be great enough to explain the
whole extent of our evolution. A n d on the contrary, if it were
great enough to explain our total evolutionary progress over
and beyond the apes, it would have been great enough origi-
nally to have caused our extinction. T h i s is a real dilemma.
W e can hardly conceive of even the most intelligent of our
prehuman ancestors being able to take care of themselves in
any of the present human environments. Yet, the factor of
unadaptation must have existed in an optimum degree for
many human ages. T h i s dilemma can be resolved, however,
if we assume that the factor itself changed with the passage
of time, that it itself evolved. O u r requirements would be
met perfectly if the maladjusting factor's own evolution was
intimately connected with ours, if we and it evolved together,
so that w e were always u n a d a p t e d to just the right a m o u n t

which w o u l d secure o u r c o n t i n u e d a n d speedy progress.
W e can t h i n k of o n e i m p o r t a n t factor and, o n e only, w h i c h
w o u l d m e e t these r e q u i r e m e n t s . W e n a m e it, however, w i t h
the greatest reluctance, f o r the word is now in some intel-
lectual d i s r e p u t e . T h e t e r m has been misused so greatly a n d
has served so o f t e n as a means of evading u n w a n t e d biological
complications that it has become, in part, m e r e cant. Its
direct influence on h u m a n behavior and on h u m a n accom-
p l i s h m e n t s has been so exaggerated that its m u c h greater in-
direct role—its c o n t i n u i n g role in h u m a n evolution itself—
has been ignored. T h e w o r d we refer to is " c u l t u r e " a n d w e
shall try to show that o u r past c u l t u r e has been not only a
f a c t o r in o u r biological evolution, b u t also the only f a c t o r
which explains b o t h the speed of o u r evolution a n d t h e dis-
tance it has taken us f r o m all o t h e r animals. T h a t o u r c u l t u r e
can i n f l u e n c e o u r biological evolution has been recognized by
C o o n (1950, 1955).
Dobzhansky a n d M o n t a g u 8 have noted the i m p o r t a n c e of
o u r c u l t u r e as a selecting agent:
T h e most important setting of human evolution is the h u m a n
social environment. . . . Success of the individual in most h u m a n
societies has depended and continues to depend upon his ability
rapidly to evolve behavior patterns which fit him to the kaleido-
scope of the conditions he encounters. He is best oil if he sub-
mits to some, rebels against others and escapes from still other
situations. Individuals who display a greater fixity of response
than their fellows suffer under most forms of human society and
tend to fall by the way. Suppleness, plasticity and, most im-
portant of all, ability to profit by experience and education are
required. . . . T h e survival value of this capacity is manifest,
8 T h . Dobzhansky a n d M. F. Ashley Montagu, "Natural Selection and the
M e n t a l Capacities of M a n k i n d , " Science 105:587-590 (1947).
and therefore the possibility of its development through natural

selection is evident.
W h a t the authors are saying indirectly is that intelligence

has survival value in human evolution, a statement that few
would challenge. T h a t it would have exactly the same sur-
vival index in all cultures, however, is questionable, but as
the cultures increased in complexity, its value should in-
crease. Exception, however, may be found in those civiliza-
tions where the not-quite-bright are cherished, and where
they breed copiously.
Other biologists have recognized both the speed of the
evolution of human intelligence and the selective pressures
of human culture. T o quote from Berrill, 9 " T h e brain ex-
panded particularly toward the front, with almost explosive
force compared with the slow changes of olden ages." And
from page 83: "So it was that the brain expanded forwards
under pressure, generation by generation, and that it did so
rapidly suggests that the pressures were extreme; and if we
are to have any hope of continuing the process from where it
has left us, the nature of these pressures and the manner in
which the brain and the whole being responded to them are
of vital interest."
Keith J . Hayes and his wife Catherine 10 who raised a baby
chimpanzee in their home along with a human infant, stated:
One of the most distinctive tasks imposed upon the human brain
by Man's cultural way of life is the assimilation and storage of a
tremendous amount of information. On the other hand, the
chimpanzee's 400 gram brain seems to be fully capable of han-
»N. J . Berrill, Man's Emerging Mind (New York: Dodd, Mead 8c Co.,
1955) p. 77.
io Keith J . Hayes and Catherine Hayes, " T h e Cultural Capacity of Chim-
panzees," in The Non-human Primates and Human Evolution, ed. James A.
Gavin, (Detroit, 1955).
dling all the useful information likely to be encountered directly

by the individual. From this point of view, an increase in the
size of the anthropoid brain would be of no advantage to its
possessor so long as he continued to lead a non-cultural existence.
We suggest the possibility that most of the four-fold increase in
cranial capacity, from anthropoid to man, took place after the
appearance of culture and language, and therefore after primate
behavior had become essentially human.
Of course, some sort of culture is a major ecological factor
in the lives of all gregarious animals, and we should never
underestimate non-human cultures and societies. Our own
culture, however, is so much more complex and has evolved
so much further than any other that we can consider both it
and ourselves unique. We will be concerned here with only
one aspect of human culture—how it conditioned our bio-
logical evolution. The evidence indicates that our ancestors
have been gregarious as far back as we can extrapolate, but
the evidence, while good, is indirect. Our brains have what
were recently labeled speech centers, in fact, the best that
have ever evolved, and such structures could hardly have
evolved in the brains of non-gregarious animals. (Such speech
centers do not have to evolve even in the brains of gregari-
ous animals.) Even the more primitive monkeys live in
groups, but in groups of moderate size. It should be empha-
sized that these groups, as they are breeding units, serve as
basic units of evolution. Evolution can occur only when
some change occurs in the hereditary potentialities of such
groups, or, to express it in modern language, when changes
occur in the gene frequencies within the breeding groups
that make up a species.
Of course, our culture was altered as our habitat changed
from arboreal to terrestrial. This change, while important,
was not the only one which separated our culture from that
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vorace. La libbra e mezza di salmone seccato al sole, che costituiva
la sua razione giornaliera, sembrava non fosse nulla per lui. Non ne
aveva mai abbastanza, e soffriva perpetue fitte di fame. Ma gli altri
cani, perchè pesavano meno ed erano nati per quella vita,
ricevevano una sola libbra di pesce e riuscivano a mantenersi in
buone condizioni.
Egli perdette rapidamente quella schifiltà che aveva caratterizzato la
sua vecchia vita. Mangiatore accurato e lento, aveva scoperto che i
suoi compagni, terminando prima, lo derubavano della parte di
razione che gli rimaneva. Non vi era maniera di difendersi. Mentre
egli scacciava due o tre, il cibo spariva nella bocca degli altri. Per
rimediare a ciò, mangiò in fretta come loro; e, tanto la fame
rincalzava, che egli non aveva ritegno a prendere anche la parte
altrui. Osservò e imparò.
Quando vide Pike, uno dei nuovi cani, furbo ipocrita e ladro,
destramente rubare una fetta di lardo affumicato, nel momento in cui
Perrault voltava le spalle, egli duplicò il furto, il giorno seguente,
portando via l’intero pezzo. Ne seguì un gran baccano, ma egli non
fu sospettato; mentre Dub, maldestro e pasticcione che si faceva
sempre cogliere in fallo, era punito per le malefatte di Buck.
Questa prima ruberia mostrò che Buck era adatto a sopravvivere
nell’ostile ambiente delle terre nordiche. Confermò la sua
adattabilità, la sua capacità ad adeguarsi a condizioni mutate; qualità
questa la cui mancanza avrebbe significato una rapida e terribile
morte. Segnò, inoltre, il decadere o frangersi della sua natura
morale, cosa vana, e un fardello nella furiosa lotta per l’esistenza.
Ottima cosa nel Sud, protetti dalla legge dell’amore e del
cameratismo, il rispettare la proprietà privata e i sentimenti personali;
ma nel Nord, sotto la legge della mazza e dei denti, chi prendeva
queste cose in considerazione era un pazzo, che per quanto si
poteva osservare intorno, non avrebbe certo prosperato.
Non che Buck facesse tutto questo ragionamento. Era adatto, ecco
tutto; e inconsciamente s’accomodava al nuovo modo di vita. In ogni
giorno, della sua vita, qualunque fosse il dissidio, egli non s’era mai
sottratto a una lotta. Ma la mazza dell’uomo dalla maglia rossa gli
aveva inculcato un codice più fondamentale e primitivo. Incivilito, egli
sarebbe stato capace di morire per una idea morale; per esempio,
per la difesa del frustino del giudice Miller; ma, ora, la perdita
assoluta d’ogni senso di civiltà era messa in evidenza dall’abilità che
usava nel sottrarsi alla difesa di una idea morale, per salvarsi il
fianco. Non rubava per la gioia di rubare, ma per le imperiose
necessità del suo stomaco; e non rubava apertamente, ma
nascostamente e con furberia, per timore della mazza e dei denti. In
breve, le cose che faceva, le faceva perchè era più facile farle che
non farle.
Il suo sviluppo (o regresso) fu rapido. I suoi muscoli divennero duri
come il ferro; egli divenne indifferente a tutte le pene ordinarie; e si
regolò secondo una perfetta economia interna oltre che esterna.
Poteva mangiare qualsiasi cosa, nauseante e indigesta che fosse; e,
mangiatala, i succhi del suo stomaco ne estraevano, sino alle più
minute particelle, tutto il nutrimento, che il sangue portava poi alle
più lontane estremità del corpo, costruendo i più saldi e duri tessuti.
La vista e l’odorato gli divennero straordinariamente acuti; mentre
l’udito s’era acuito al punto che nel sonno udiva il più leggero suono
e distingueva se era segno di pace o di pericolo.
Imparò a strapparsi il ghiaccio coi denti, quando gli si formava tra le
dita delle zampe; e allorchè aveva sete e vi era un grosso strato di
ghiaccio sull’acqua, lo rompeva saltandovi sopra con le quattro
zampe irrigidite. La sua abilità più straordinaria era quella di odorare
il vento e di prevederlo una notte prima. Qualunque fossero le
condizioni atmosferiche, quand’egli scavava il suo covo accanto ad
un albero, ad un monticello, il vento che soffiava più tardi lo trovava
sempre ben riparato, coperto e caldo.
E non soltanto egli imparava per esperienza, ma perchè si
ridestavano in lui istinti da lungo tempo scomparsi. Si separavano da
lui le generazioni addomesticate; vagamente ricordava cose lontane
della giovinezza della sua razza, di quando i cani selvatici erravano
a torme per le primitive foreste e uccidevano per nutrirsi l’animale
che riuscivano ad abbattere. Non gli era difficile imparare a
combattere tagliando e strappando, col rapido morso del lupo. In
quel modo avevano combattuto obliati antenati, che ravvivavano in
lui il senso dell’antica vita, così che le vecchie abilità ed astuzie
ch’essi avevano impresso ereditariamente alla razza, diventavano le
sue abilità e le sue astuzie. Gli venivano naturali, senza ricerca o
sforzo, come se le avesse sempre pensate. E allorchè, nelle notti
serene e fredde, puntava il naso verso una stella e ululava a lungo
alla maniera dei lupi, erano i suoi antenati, morti, in polvere, che
puntavano il naso alle stelle e ululavano attraverso i secoli e
attraverso lui. E le sue cadenze erano le loro cadenze, che
esprimevano la loro miseria e il silenzio e il freddo e le tenebre.
Così, a dimostrare che specie di buffoneria è la vita, l’antico canto
rinasceva in lui ed egli ritornava ad essere se stesso; e ritornava ad
essere se stesso perchè gli uomini avevano scoperto un metallo
giallo nel Nord, e perchè Manuele era un aiuto-giardiniere il cui
salario bastava appena a soddisfare i bisogni della moglie e di varie
piccole copie di sè.
CAPITOLO III.
LA BESTIA PRIMORDIALE
PREPONDERANTE.
La bestia primordiale preponderante era molto forte in Buck, e in

quelle terribili condizioni della vita sul duro sentiero del Nord, crebbe
ogni giorno più. Cresceva, tuttavia, segretamente. La nuova
perspicacia gli dava senno e ritegno. Era troppo occupato ad
accomodarsi alla nuova vita, per sentirsi a suo agio; e non soltanto
non cercava litigi, ma li evitava sempre, quando poteva. Una certa
ponderatezza caratterizzava i suoi atti. Egli non era soggetto a
sventatezze o ad azioni precipitate: e nel profondo odio che correva
tra lui e Spitz, non tradiva alcuna inesperienza, evitando qualsiasi
atto offensivo.
D’altro canto, forse perchè presentiva in Buck un rivale pericoloso.
Spitz non perdeva alcuna occasione di mostrargli i denti. Egli si
disturbò persino a minacciarlo, cercando sempre di incominciare lui
una lotta che poteva finire soltanto con la morte dell’uno o dell’altro.
Il che sarebbe accaduto, a principio de! viaggio, se non fosse
successo un accidente poco piacevole. S’erano accampati
tristemente e miseramente sulla riva del Lago Le Barge. Neve
violenta, un vento che tagliava come un coltello di fuoco e tenebre li
avevano costretti a cercare a tastoni un luogo dove accampare.
Difficilmente avrebbero potuto trovarsi peggio. Dietro loro sorgeva
una parete rocciosa perpendicolare, e Perrault e François erano stati
costretti ad accendere il fuoco e a stendere la roba per dormire sul
ghiaccio del lago stesso. Essi avevano scaricata la tenda a Dyea,
per viaggiare più leggeri. Alcuni pezzi di legno trovati lì, sulla riva,
servirono a fare un fuoco che si spense nel ghiaccio, lasciandoli, a
mezzo della cena, all’oscuro.
Buck scavò il suo giaciglio accanto alla roccia protettrice. Egli vi
stava così comodo e caldo che a malincuore ne uscì quando
François distribuì il pesce che aveva disgelato sul fuoco. Ma quando
Buck finì la sua razione e ritornò alla sua buca, la trovò occupata. Un
ringhio minaccioso gli fece capire che l’offensore era Spitz. Sino
allora Buck aveva evitato di avere contese col suo nemico; ma
quello era troppo. La bestia in lui ruggiva. Si lanciò su Spitz con una
furia che li sorprese entrambi, e specialmente Spitz, che per
esperienza era giunto alla convinzione che Buck fosse un cane
eccezionalmente timido, che riusciva a difendersi solo per il peso e
la grandezza.
Anche François rimase sorpreso, quando li vide piombar fuori dalla
buca rovinata, confusi insieme e indovinò la causa della lite. «Aaah!»
gridò a Buck, «Dàgli, dàgli, perdio! Dàgli, a quello sporco ladro!».
Ma anche Spitz era disposto a darle. Ringhiava con estrema rabbia
ed ardore mentre girava avanti e indietro in attesa del momento
opportuno per balzargli addosso. Buck non era meno ardente, e non
meno cauto, mentre anch’egli girava indietro e avanti in cerca di un
momento di vantaggio. Ma fu allora che accadde l’inaspettato, la
cosa che lanciò la loro lotta per la supremazia lontana nell’avvenire,
al di là di molte tormentose miglia e sentieri e fatiche.
Una bestemmia di Perrault, il risuonare di un colpo di mazza su delle
ossa e un acuto urlo di pena annunciarono l’inizio di un pandemonio.
Si vide che l’accampamento era improvvisamente popolato di villose
forme striscianti — un centinaio di cani affamati, che avevano
subodorato l’accampamento da qualche villaggio indiano. S’erano
avvicinati strisciando, mentre Buck e Spitz stavano combattendo, e
allorchè i due uomini balzarono in mezzo ad essi con grosse mazze,
quelli mostrarono i denti e si rivoltarono. Erano pazzi per l’odore dei
cibi. Perrault ne trovò uno con la testa affondata nella cassa delle
provvigioni. La sua mazza cadde pesantemente sulle scarne costole
della bestia, e la cassetta si capovolse per terra. Ed ecco, in un
istante, una torma di affamati bruti azzuffarsi per il pane e il lardo
affumicato. Le mazze caddero su di essi senza pietà. Essi strillarono
e ulularono sotto la pioggia di colpi, ma non cessarono egualmente
di lottare con disperazione finchè l’ultima briciola non fu divorata.
Nel frattempo, i cani della slitta, stupiti, erano balzati dalle loro
buche, per la paura di essere assaliti dai terribili invasori. Buck non
aveva mai visto cani come quelli. Sembrava che le loro ossa
dovessero bucare la pelle. Erano scheletri rivestiti da cadenti pelli
infangate, con occhi fiammeggianti e bocche piene di bava. Ma la
pazzia della fame li rendeva terrificanti, irresistibili. Non vi era
maniera di opporsi ad essi. I cani della slitta furono ricacciati sin dal
primo momento, contro la parete rocciosa. Buck era assediato da tre
di essi, e in un attimo ebbe la testa e le spalle lacerate e ferite. Il
baccano era spaventevole. Billee piangeva, come al solito: Dave e
Sol-leks, grondanti sangue da una ventina di ferite, combattevano
bravamente, a fianco a fianco. Joe morsicava come un demonio.
Una volta, i suoi denti si chiusero sulla zampa davanti di uno dei cani
spezzandola di netto; Pike, l’infingardo, saltò sull’animale sciancato
e gli ruppe il collo con un lampo dei denti e una scossa. Buck afferrò
per la gola un avversario bavoso, e fu spruzzato di sangue quando i
suoi denti s’affondarono nel giugulare. Il caldo sapore del sangue
nella bocca lo stimolò ad una maggiore furia. Si lanciò su un altro, e,
allo stesso tempo, sentì dei denti affondare nella propria gola. Era
Spitz, che l’attaccava a tradimento da un lato.
Perrault e François, avendo liberato la loro parte d’accampamento,
s’affrettarono a salvare i loro cani. L’onda selvaggia delle bestie
affamate indietreggiò davanti a loro e Buck si liberò dalla stretta. Ma
solo per un momento. I due uomini furono costretti a correre indietro
per salvare i viveri, e allora i cani affamati tornarono all’assalto di
quelli della slitta. Billee, divenuto coraggioso per lo spavento, balzò
attraverso il cerchio selvaggio e fuggì via sul ghiaccio. Pike e Dub lo
seguirono da presso, col resto dei compagni dietro. Mentre Buck
stava spiccando il salto per seguirli, vide, colla coda dell’occhio, che
Spitz si lanciava su di lui coll’evidente intenzione di rovesciarlo. Una
volta a terra sotto quella massa di cagnacci, non vi sarebbe stata più
speranza per lui. S’aggiustò a sostenere il colpo dell’attacco di Spitz,
e poi fuggì anch’egli sul lago.
Più tardi, i nove cani della slitta si riunirono e cercarono rifugio nella
foresta. Benchè non fossero inseguiti, erano in condizioni pietose.
Non ve n’era uno che non fosse gravemente ferito. Dub aveva una
zampa posteriore rovinata; Dolly, l’ultimo cane aggiunto al tiro a
Dyea, aveva la gola lacerata; Joe aveva perduto un occhio; mentre
Billee, l’allegro, con un occhio maciullato e in brandelli, pianse,
gemette tutta la notte. All’alba si trascinarono faticosamente
all’accampamento e trovarono i predoni scomparsi e i due uomini di
pessimo umore. Avevano perduto metà dei loro viveri. I cagnacci
avevano rosicchiato anche le cinghie e le coperture di tela della
slitta. Infatti, nulla avevano risparmiato di quanto fosse lontanamente
mangiabile. Avevano mangiato un paio di scarpe di pelle di cervo, di
Perrault, pezzi dei finimenti, e persino due piedi della striscia di cuoio
in fondo alla frusta di François. Egli si destò dalla dolorosa
contemplazione di tanta rovina per esaminare i suoi cani feriti.
«Ah, amici miei», diss’egli dolcemente, «può darsi che vi facciano
diventare idrofobi, tutti questi morsi. Possono essere tutti idrofobi,
sacredam! Che ne pensi, eh, Perrault?».
Il corriere crollò il capo dubbiosamente. Con quattromila miglia di
cammino ancora davanti, per arrivare a Dawson, non poteva
facilmente permettersi il lusso di avere cani idrofobi. Due ore di
bestemmie e di sforzi rimisero a posto i finimenti, e i cani ripresero
penosamente il cammino, faticando per le ferite e la strada ch’era la
più dura che avessero ancora fatta, e in vero la più dura che ci fosse
fra essi e Dawson.
Il Fiume dalle trenta Miglia era tutto disgelato. Le sue acque
impetuose sfidavano il gelo; soltanto ai margini e nei punti tranquilli il
ghiaccio resisteva. Furono necessari sei giorni di spossanti fatiche
per superare quelle trenta terribili miglia. E terribili erano davvero,
perchè ogni passo era fatto a rischio della vita del cane e dell’uomo.
Una dozzina di volte, Perrault, fiutando la via, cadde giù attraverso i
ponti di ghiaccio, salvato dalla lunga pertica che portava con sè,
ch’egli teneva in modo che ciascuna volta cadesse traversalmente al
buco fatto dal suo corpo. Ma aveva luogo a quel momento un
cambiamento subitaneo di temperatura e il termometro registrava
cinquanta gradi Fahrenheit sotto zero, e ciascuna volta che
s’immergeva nel ghiaccio era costretto, se non voleva morire, ad
accendere un fuoco e ad asciugarsi gli abiti.
Non v’era nulla che lo spaventasse: e appunto perchè nulla lo
spaventava, era stato scelto come corriere governativo. Egli
affrontava ogni genere di rischi, ficcando risolutamente il suo volto
secco e tagliente nel gelo, faticando dai primi albori sino alla sera
oscura. Girava intorno alle rive a picco, sul ghiaccio degli orli che si
piegava e frangeva sotto il piede e sul quale non osavano fermarsi.
Una volta la slitta s’affondò nel ghiaccio con Dave e Buck, che erano
mezzi gelati e quasi annegati quando riuscirono a trarli fuori. Il solito
fuoco fu necessario per salvarli. Poichè erano rivestiti solidamente di
ghiaccio, i due uomini li fecero correre intorno al fuoco, facendoli
sudare e disgelare, così vicino ai tizzi, che i cani furono
abbruciacchiati dalle fiamme.
Un’altra volta il ghiaccio si ruppe sotto Spitz, il quale si tirò dietro
l’intero tiro, sino a Buck, che fece leva con tutta la forza delle sue
quattro zampe sull’orlo sdrucciolevole del ghiaccio che tremava e
scricchiolava tutt’intorno. Ma dietro di lui vi era Dave, che pure tirava
indietro con tutte le sue forze, e dietro la slitta vi era François che
tirava sino a far scricchiolare i tendini delle braccia.
Una volta, poi, il ghiaccio si ruppe davanti e dietro loro, e non vi era
altra via di salvezza che su per la rupe a picco della riva. Perrault le
diede la scalata per miracolo, mentre François pregava appunto per
quel miracolo; e con tutte le corregge che avevano e le cinghie della
slitta, e servendosi anche del più piccolo pezzo di finimento,
attorcigliati e legati ad una lunga fune, issarono i cani, l’uno dopo
l’altro, sulla cresta della rupe. François salì per ultimo, dopo la slitta
e il carico. Poi dovettero cercare un luogo per la discesa, discesa
che fu alla fine fatta con l’aiuto della fune; e la notte li ritrovò
nuovamente sul fiume, con un solo quarto di miglio a credito di
un’intera giornata di pena.
Quando giunsero all’Hootaluiqua e al ghiaccio buono, Buck era
sfinito. Anche gli altri cani erano nelle stesse condizioni; ma Perrault,
per riprendere il tempo perduto, li spingeva avanti. Il primo giorno
percorsero trentacinque miglia, sino al Grande Salmone; il giorno
dopo trentacinque ancora sino al Piccolo Salmone; il terzo giorno
quaranta miglia, spingendosi molto innanzi verso le Cinque Dita.
I piedi di Buck non erano così saldi e duri come quelli degli altri cani.
S’erano indeboliti e ammorbiditi durante le molte generazioni che
erano passate dal giorno che l’ultimo suo antenato selvaggio era
stato domato da un abitatore delle caverne o del fiume. Zoppicava
tutto il giorno penosamente, e allorchè l’accampamento era fatto, si
gettava a terra come morto. Affamato com’era, non si muoveva per
prendere la sua razione di pesce, e François era costretto a
portargliela. Inoltre egli gli fregava i piedi per mezzora ogni sera
dopo cena, e sacrificò la parte superiore dei suoi moccasins, i
sandali indiani di pelle di daino, per farne quattro per Buck. Fu un
gran sollievo per Buck, che fece sorridere persino l’aggrinzita faccia
di Perrault, un mattino che François dimenticò i moccasins e Buck
giacque sulla schiena, con le quattro zampe che s’agitavano
nell’aria, a mo’ di appello, e rifiutando di muoversi senza di essi. In
seguito, i suoi piedi divennero duri, e i piccoli sandali, già logori,
furono gettati via.
Al Pelly, una mattina, mentre stavano attaccando la slitta, Dolly, che
non era mai stata buona a nulla, impazzì improvvisamente. Ella
rivelò la sua condizione con un lungo doloroso ululato da lupo, che
fece rizzare il pelo dalla paura, a tutti i cani; e poi si lanciò diritta
contro Buck. Egli non aveva mai visto un cane diventare pazzo, nè
aveva alcuna ragione per temere la pazzìa, e tuttavia ne comprese
subito l’orrore e fuggì via preso da panico. Corse davanti a sè come
una saetta, con Dolly che gli ansava bavosa un salto indietro; nè
essa poteva guadagnare terreno su di lui, tanto grande era il suo
terrore, nè egli poteva distanziarla, tanto grande era la pazzia della
cagna. Egli si tuffò nel seno boscoso di un isolotto, volò giù alla riva
più bassa, attraversò un canale interno pieno di grosso ghiaccio sino
ad un’altra isola, guadagnò una terza isola, piegò dietro il corso
maggiore del fiume, e, disperato incominciò ad attraversarlo. E tutto
mentre, sebbene non guardasse, poteva udire il ringhiare affannoso,
un salto indietro, della cagna pazza. François lo chiamò, un quarto di
miglio lontano, ed egli tornò indietro di colpo, guadagnando un salto
avanti, ansando penosamente, chè gli mancava il respiro, ponendo
tutta la sua fede in François, che l’avrebbe salvato. Il conduttore di
cani teneva alzata in mano la scure, e allorchè Buck gli passò
accanto come una saetta, la scure precipitò con fracasso sulla testa
della pazza Dolly.
Buck cadde contro la slitta, esausto, singhiozzando per respirare,
smarrito. Spitz, colto il destro, si lanciò su Buck e due volte i suoi
denti s’affondarono nell’inerme nemico lacerandogli e squarciandogli
la carne sino all’osso. Allora entrò in gioco la frusta di François, e
Buck ebbe la soddisfazione di vedere Spitz bastonato come non era
ancora mai stato alcuno del tiro.
«È un diavolo, quello Spitz!», osservò Perrault. «Un maledetto
giorno, egli ucciderà Buck».
«Buck vale due diavoli», fu la risposta di François. «Più lo osservo, e
più ne sono sicuro. Senti: un maledetto giorno diventerà pazzo come
un diavolo e allora egli masticherà tutto Spitz e lo risputerà sulla
neve. Certo. Lo so io».
Da quel momento, vi fu guerra, tra i due cani. Spitz, come cane
conduttore e capo riconosciuto del tiro, sentiva la sua supremazia
minacciata da quello strano cane del Sud. Buck, infatti, gli appariva
molto strano, perchè dei molti cani del Sud che aveva conosciuto,
nessuno s’era mostrato di qualche valore nè al tiro, nè
all’accampamento. Erano tutti troppo delicati, e morivano per la
fatica, il freddo e la fame. Buck era un’eccezione. Egli solamente
sopportava e prosperava, uguale agli «Luskygs» del nord per forza,
selvatichezza e furberia. E poi era un cane dominatore; reso
pericoloso dal fatto che la mazza dell’uomo dalla maglia rossa gli
aveva tolto ogni impulso cieco o impazienza nel suo desiderio di
dominare. Egli era eminentemente scaltro e furbo, e poteva
aspettare il suo tempo con pazienza davvero primitiva.
Era inevitabile che avvenisse il cozzo per la supremazia; e Buck lo
voleva. Lo voleva perchè era della sua natura; perchè era stato
irretito dall’orgoglio senza nome e incomprensibile per il tiro della
slitta e pel cammino — quell’orgoglio che sostiene i cani nella fatica,
sino all’ultimo respiro, e li alletta a morire pieni di gioia nei finimenti,
e spezza il loro cuore, se ne sono distolti. Era l’orgoglio di Dave,
cane da stanga, di Sol-leks, mentre tirava con tutte le sue forze;
l’orgoglio che s’impossessava di loro quando il campo era tolto,
trasformandoli da bruti doloranti e torvi in creature ambiziose, piene
di ardore; l’orgoglio che li spronava tutto il giorno e li abbandonava
allorchè s’accampavano, ripiombandoli in cupa irrequietezza e
scontento. Questa ambizione animava Spitz e lo faceva ringhiare
contro i cani della slitta, quando sbagliavano o non tiravano o si
nascondevano al mattino, al momento d’essere attaccati. Questa
stessa ambizione gli faceva temere Buck come un possibile cane
guidatore; ciò che Buck voleva appunto, per orgoglio.
Egli minacciava apertamente la supremazia dell’altro; s’intrometteva
tra lui e i rilassati che egli doveva punire. E lo faceva
deliberatamente. Una notte vi fu una grande nevicata, e al mattino
Pike, l’infingardo, non apparì. Era certamente nascosto nella sua
buca, sotto un piede di neve. François lo chiamò e cercò invano.
Spitz era pazzo dalla rabbia. Girava furioso per l’accampamento,
annusando e scavando in ogni possibile luogo, ringhiando così
terribilmente che Pike l’udì e ne tremò nel suo nascondiglio.
Ma quando, alla fine, fu scoperto, e Spitz si lanciò su lui per punirlo,
Buck si lanciò con pari furia, tra loro. Fu un assalto così inatteso, e
condotto con tanta abilità, che Spitz finì ruzzoloni. Pike, da pauroso
e tremante qual era prese coraggio da quell’aperta ribellione, e si
gettò sul suo capo rovesciato a terra. Buck, pel quale la lealtà nella
lotta era codice obliato, si lanciò pure su Spitz, ma François,
sogghignando per l’incidente, non deviando tuttavia dai suoi criteri di
giustizia distributiva, fece fischiare la frusta, con tutta la sua forza, su
Buck, e non riuscendo con ciò ad allontanarlo dal prostrato rivale,
usò il manico. Mezzo stordito dal colpo, Buck cadde indietro e la
frusta s’abbattè ripetutamente su lui, mentre Spitz puniva duramente
l’infingardo Pike.
Nei giorni seguenti, mentre s’avvicinavano sempre più a Dawson,
Buck continuò ancora a interporsi tra Spitz e i colpevoli; ma lo faceva
astutamente, quando non c’era François. Con la subdola ribellione di
Buck, sorse e s’accrebbe una disobbedienza generale. Dave e Sol-
leks rimasero immutati, ma il resto del tiro peggiorò ogni giorno più.
Nulla più procedeva bene; v’erano continue contese e contrasti,
costanti ragioni e possibilità di disordine, e Buck ne era la colpa. Egli
teneva sempre preoccupato e affaccendato François, poichè il
conducente di cani temeva sempre che avesse luogo la mortale lotta
tra i due, lotta ch’egli sapeva essere, prima o dopo, inevitabile; e più
di una notte, il rumore delle discordie e delle risse tra gli altri cani lo
faceva alzare dal giaciglio spaventato che Buck e Spitz fossero alle
prese.
Ma l’occasione non si presentò ed essi entrarono in Dawson, un
tetro pomeriggio, e la grande lotta non era ancora avvenuta. V’erano
là molti uomini e innumerevoli cani, e Buck li trovò tutti al lavoro.
Sembrava che fosse nell’ordine naturale delle cose che i cani
lavorassero. Tutto il giorno essi correvano su e giù per la strada
principale, in lunghi tiri, e durante la notte si udiva passare il tintinnio
dei loro campanelli. Trascinavano travi da costruzioni e legna da
ardere, destinati alle miniere, e facevano ogni specie di lavoro, come
i cavalli nella Valle di Santa Clara.
Qua e là Buck incontrava dei cani della terra del Sud, ma, per la
maggior parte, tutti i cani erano della razza dei lupi selvatici. Tutte le
notti, regolarmente, alle nove, alle undici e alle tre, essi alzavano un
canto notturno, un canto magico e strano, al quale Buck si dilettava
di prender parte. Con l’aurora boreale che fiammeggiava fredda in
alto, o le stelle saltellanti nella danza del gelo, e la terra intorpidita e
gelata sotto il suo manto di neve, il canto degli huskies pareva la
sfida della vita; soltanto, era espressa in tono minore, con lunghi
lamenti e mezzi singhiozzi, ed era piuttosto la supplica della vita,
l’articolato travaglio dell’esistenza. Era un vecchio canto, vecchio
quanto la stessa razza — uno dei primi canti del mondo più giovane,
quando i canti erano tristi. Recava l’impronta dei dolori di
innumerevoli generazioni, questo lamento che tanto stranamente
commoveva Buck. Quel lamento a singhiozzi esprimeva oltre che la
pena dei viventi, la pena dei loro selvatici progenitori; e la paura e il
mistero del freddo e delle tenebre, di ora e d’allora. Ed egli si
commoveva a quel canto sembrandogli ritornare con tutto il suo
essere, attraverso alle età del fuoco e del tetto, ai nudi primordi della
vita, delle età degli urli.
Sette giorni dopo il loro arrivo a Dawson, essi scendevano il ripido
banco accanto alle Barracks sulla Yukon Trail, diretti a Dyea e Salt
Water. Perrault riportava dispacci ancor più urgenti di quelli recati a
Dawson; egli era poi preso dall’orgoglio della rapidità, e si proponeva
di compiere il viaggio più rapido dell’anno. Lo favorivano in questo
parecchie cose. Il riposo di una settimana aveva rimesso in piena
efficienza i cani. Il sentiero che prima avevano penato ad aprirsi, era
stato poi ben battuto da altri; inoltre la polizia aveva stabilito in due o
tre luoghi dei depositi di viveri per i cani e gli uomini, e così si
viaggiava con carico leggero.
Il primo giorno raggiunsero Sixty Mile, che rappresenta una corsa di
cinquanta miglia; e il giorno dopo erano ben innanzi lungo il Yukon
verso Pelly. Ma quelle splendide corse non erano ottenute senza
grandi pene per François. La insidiosa rivolta incominciata da Buck
aveva distrutto la solidarietà del tiro. Non era più come un sol cane
che tirasse la slitta. L’incoraggiamento che Buck dava ai ribelli,
induceva questi ad ogni specie di meschine cattiverie e
insubordinazioni. Spitz non era più il capo da temersi tanto. Il
vecchio timore scomparve, e divennero tutti uguali nello sfidarne
l’autorità. Pike gli rubò una notte mezzo pesce, e l’ingoiò sotto la
protezione di Buck. Un’altra notte Dub e Joe s’azzuffarono con Spitz,
e lo costrinsero a rinunciare alla punizione ch’essi meritavano. E
persino Billee, il bonario, era meno bonario e non gemeva più, nè
implorava così, come nei primi tempi. Buck non s’avvicinava mai a
Spitz senza ringhiare minacciosamente col pelo irto. Infatti, la sua
condotta era simile a quella di uno che intendesse provocarlo: ed
egli si dava delle arie di spavalderia minacciosa sotto il naso di Spitz.
L’infrangersi della disciplina influiva pure sui rapporti tra cane e cane.
Si disputavano e azzuffavano più che mai tra di loro, tanto che certe
volte l’accampamento era un inferno di ululati: François tirava giù
delle strane bestemmie barbare, e pestava i piedi sulla neve,
vanamente furioso, e si strappava i capelli. La sua frusta sibilava
continuamente tra i cani, ma con scarsi risultati. Appena volgeva le
spalle, essi ricominciavano. Egli sosteneva Spitz con la frusta,
mentre Buck sosteneva il resto del tiro. François sapeva che in
fondo a tutto ciò c’era Buck, e Buck sapeva ch’egli sapeva, ma era
troppo furbo per farsi cogliere nuovamente sul fatto. Egli lavorava
fedelmente sotto il tiro della slitta, poichè quella fatica era diventata
un piacere per lui; ma era un piacere ancora maggiore suscitare una
rissa fra i suoi compagni e ingarbugliare così i tiranti.
Alla foce del Tahkeena, una notte, dopo cena, Dub scoprì un coniglio
dalle zampe bianche, e gli si lanciò sopra; ma non lo colse. In un
momento l’intero tiro fu in moto. Cento metri più in là vi era
l’accampamento della Polizia del Nord-ovest, con cinquanta cani,
tutti huskies, che s’unirono nella caccia. Il coniglio filò veloce giù per
il fiume, voltò per un piccolo ruscello, e sul letto gelato di esso
continuò a fuggire rapido. Correva leggero sulla superficie della
neve, mentre i cani fendevano lo strato gelato con il solo peso. Buck
era alla testa del branco dei cinquanta, seguendo il tortuoso corso
del ruscello, senza riuscire a guadagnar terreno. Procedeva, basso,
nella corsa, ululando, avido, col magnifico corpo lanciato come una
saetta, salto dopo salto, nel pallido chiarore lunare. E salto dopo
salto, come un pallido fantasma di ghiaccio, il coniglio dalle zampe di
neve filava innanzi a lui.
Tutto quell’agitarsi di vecchi istinti che a dati periodi spinge gli uomini
fuori dalle frastuonanti città nelle foreste e nelle pianure per uccidere
con pallottole di piombo lanciate chimicamente, la brama del
sangue, la gioia di uccidere, tutto ciò provava Buck con qualche
cosa di più profondamente intimo. Correva alla testa del branco, per
abbattere la preda selvatica, la carne vivente, per uccidere con i suoi
denti e immergere il muso sino agli occhi nel sangue caldo.
Vi è un’estasi che segna il culmine della vita, oltre il quale la vita non
può andare. E tale è il paradosso della vita, che quest’estasi
avvenga quando si è più vivi, come un completo oblìo d’esser vivi.
Quest’estasi, quest’oblìo della vita, viene all’artista avvolto e rapito in
una gran fiamma; viene al soldato, impazzito nella furia della lotta,
che non dà quartiere; e venne a Buck mentre conduceva il branco e
risuonava l’antico grido del lupo, sforzandosi egli di raggiungere il
cibo ch’era vivente e gli fuggiva leggero dinanzi nella luce lunare.
Stava scandagliando le profondità della sua natura, e di parti della
sua natura ch’erano più profonde di lui, ritornando nel seno del
tempo. Egli era dominato dal fluire impetuoso e puro della vita,
dall’onda della marea dell’essere, dalla perfetta gioia di ciascun
muscolo separato, da ciascuna articolazione, e da ciascun tendine,
in quanto erano tuttociò che non è morte, in quanto erano infiammati
e sfrenati, esprimendo se stessi in movimento, volando esultanti
sotto le stelle e sopra la faccia di materia morta e immota.
Ma Spitz, freddo calcolatore anche nei momenti supremi, lasciò il
branco e attraversò una stretta striscia di terra intorno alla quale
girava il ruscello. Buck non ignorava la cosa, e quando girò la curva,
con il gelido spettro del coniglio che fuggiva innanzi a lui, vide un
altro gelido e più grande spettro balzare dalla sponda soprastante il
letto del corso d’acqua, proprio innanzi al coniglio. Era Spitz. Il
coniglio non poteva tornare indietro, e mentre i bianchi denti gli
spezzavano la schiena a mezz’aria, egli strillò terribilmente, come
potrebbe strillare un uomo colpito a morte. A quel suono, al grido
della Vita che cadeva dall’apice della Vita nella stretta della Morte,
l’intero branco alle calcagna di Buck alzò un infernale coro di gioia.
Ma Buck non gridò. Non rallentò il suo slancio, ma piombò su Spitz,
spalla contro spalla, con tanta violenza da sbagliar la gola.
Ruzzolarono insieme più volte nel polviscolo della neve. Spitz balzò
in piedi istantaneamente come se non fosse stato gettato a terra,
lacerando la spalla di Buck e saltando da un lato. Due volte i suoi
denti, batterono insieme, come i denti d’acciaio di una tagliola,
mentre indietreggiava per prendere posizione, con le scarne labbra
alzate, sibilanti e ringhianti.
In un lampo Buck comprese. Era giunta l’ora. Era per la morte.
Mentre giravano intorno, ringhiando, con le orecchie basse,
cercando intensamente un vantaggio, la scena assumeva per Buck
un aspetto familiare. Gli sembrava di ricordare ogni cosa: i boschi
bianchi, e la terra, e la luce lunare, e il fremito della battaglia. Al
biancore e al silenzio sovrastava una calma spettrale. Non vi era il
più debole filo d’aria, nulla si moveva, non tremava foglia; il visibile
fiato dei cani s’alzava lentamente e pigramente nell’aria gelata.
Avevano spartito rapidamente il coniglio dalle zampe di neve, questi
cani ch’erano dei lupi male addomesticati: e s’avvicinavano ora in un
cerchio di avida attesa. Essi, pure, erano silenziosi, con gli occhi che
scintillavano e i respiri che salivano lentamente nell’aria. Per Buck
non era nuova nè strana, quella scena d’altri tempi. Era come se
fosse sempre stata la necessaria vicenda delle cose.
Spitz era un combattente pratico. Dallo Spitzberg attraverso le Terre
Artiche, e per il Canadà e i Barrens, egli s’era battuto con ogni
specie di cani ed era riuscito a vincerli. Terribile furia era la sua, ma
mai furia cieca. Preso dalla passione di sbranare e distruggere, non
dimenticava mai che il suo nemico era preso dalla stessa passione
di sbranare e distruggere. Non si lanciava mai all’attacco prima di
essere preparato a ricevere un attacco; non attaccava mai prima di
avere difeso quell’attacco.
Invano Buck si sforzò di affondare i denti nel collo del grosso cane
bianco. Ogni qual volta i suoi denti miravano alla carne più soffice,
incontravano i denti di Spitz. Denti contro denti, e le labbra erano
tagliate e sanguinavano, ma Buck non poteva penetrare nella
guardia del suo nemico. Allora si riscaldò e avvolse Spitz in un
turbine di attacchi. Ripetutamente tentò di afferrare la gola candida,
dove la vita palpitava alla superficie, e ciascuna volta Spitz lo feriva
e saltava da un lato. Allora Buck prese a slanciarsi contro Spitz
come se mirasse alla gola, improvvisamente piegando la testa da un
lato, battendo con la spalla contro la spalla di lui, come un montone,
per rovesciarlo. Ma invece di rovesciarlo, la spalla di Buck era
lacerata dai denti di Spitz, che balzava subito via leggero.
Spitz non era tocco, mentre Buck grondava sangue e respirava
affannosamente. La lotta diveniva disperata. E intanto il cerchio
silenzioso e lupino attendeva per finire qualsiasi cane soccombesse.
Mentre Buck annaspava, Spitz, incominciò a sua volta a lanciarglisi
contro, tanto che egli penava a mantenersi in piedi. Una volta Buck
cadde, e l’intero cerchio dei sessanta cani balzò in piedi; ma egli si
rimise, quasi a mezz’aria, e il circolo si gettò giù ad aspettare.
Ma Buck possedeva una qualità fatta per la gloria e la grandezza:
immaginazione. Combatteva per istinto, ma poteva combattere pure
con la testa. Si lanciò come se volesse ritentare il vecchio colpo di
spalla, ma all’ultimo istante s’abbassò rapido rasente la neve e colpì.
I suoi denti si chiusero sulla zampa sinistra, anteriore, di Spitz. Si udì
uno scricchiolìo d’osso spezzato, e il cane bianco gli tenne testa su
tre zampe. Tre volte cercò di rovesciarlo, e poi ripetè il colpo e gli
spezzò l’altra zampa davanti. Nonostante la pena e l’impotenza,
Spitz lottò disperatamente per tenersi ritto. Vedeva il cerchio
silenzioso, con occhi luminosi, lingue a penzoloni e fiati argentei,
salire e chiudersi sempre più su di lui, come aveva visto cerchi simili
chiudersi su vinti antagonisti nel passato. Soltanto questa volta egli
era il vinto.
Non vi era alcuna speranza per lui. Buck era inesorabile. La
compassione era una cosa serbata per climi più miti. Preparò l’ultimo
attacco. Il cerchio s’era ristretto tanto ch’egli poteva sentire l’alito
degli kuskies ai suoi fianchi. Poteva vederli, oltre Spitz e da ogni lato,
mezzi rannicchiati per lanciarsi, con gli occhi fissi su lui. Seguì come
una pausa. Ogni animale era immobile, come pietrificato. Soltanto
Spitz tremava col pelo irsuto mentre barcollava, ringhiando
terribilmente e minacciosamente, come se volesse spaventare la
morte imminente. Alla fine, Buck balzò avanti e balzò indietro, ma in
quell’ultimo balzo in avanti egli aveva alla fine raggiunta la gola del
suo nemico. L’oscuro cerchio divenne un punto sulla neve innondata
dalla luce lunare, allorchè Spitz scomparve. Buck rimase da un lato
a guardare, campione fortunato, primordiale bestia dominante che
aveva ucciso e che aveva trovato piacere nell’uccidere.
CAPITOLO IV.
COLUI CHE HA GUADAGNATO IL PRIMATO.
— Eh! Che dicevo? Dicevo il vero quando asserivo che Buck vale
per due diavoli.
Fu questo il discorso di François la mattina dopo, quando scoprì che
mancava Spitz e che Buck era coperto di ferite. Lo tirò vicino al
fuoco e alla luce del fuoco mostrò le ferite.
— Quello Spitz combatte come un diavolo, — disse Perrault, mentre
esaminava gli squarci e i tagli.
— E questo Buck combatte come due diavoli. — fu la risposta di
François. — Ed ora potremo guadagnar tempo. Non più Spitz, non
più disordine, per certo.
Mentre Perrault impaccava gli attrezzi dell’accampamento e caricava
la slitta, il conducente incominciò a porre i finimenti ai cani. Buck
trottò subito al posto che Spitz avrebbe occupato come capo del tiro;
ma François, non badando ad esso, condusse Sol-leks alla bramata
posizione. A suo giudizio, Sol-leks era il miglior cane che rimaneva
per dirigere il tiro. Buck si slanciò furioso su Sol-leks, spingendolo
via e prendendone il posto.
— Eh? eh? — gridò François battendo le mani allegramente. —
Guardate un po’ Buck. Ha ucciso Spitz, e crede ora di prenderne il
posto.
— Via! via di qui, stupido! — gridò, ma Buck non si mosse.
Afferrò Buck per la collottola del collo, e benchè il cane ringhiasse
minacciosamente, lo trascinò da un lato e rimise a posto Sol-leks. Il
vecchio cane non era punto contento, e mostrava chiaramente che
aveva paura di Buck. François era cocciuto, ma quando voltò le
spalle, Buck scacciò via nuovamente Sol-leks, che era contento di
andarsene.
François si stizzì. — Ora, perdio! t’insegno io a ubbidire! — gridò,
ritornando con una pesante mazza in mano.
Buck, che ricordava l’uomo dalla maglia rossa, si ritirò lentamente,
nè ritentò di scacciare Sol-leks quando fu rimesso a posto. Girava
intorno, fuori del tiro della mazza, ringhiando furiosamente e
amaramente; e mentre girava intorno, teneva d’occhio la mazza per
schivarla se mai François gliela avesse gettata contro, giacchè era
diventato saggio nei rapporti con le mazze.
Il conducente continuò i suoi preparativi, e chiamò Buck quando fu il
momento di porlo al vecchio posto davanti a Dave. Buck indietreggiò
di due o tre passi. François lo seguì, ma il cane continuò a
indietreggiare. Dopo un po’ di questo gioco, François depose la
mazza, pensando che Buck temesse d’essere picchiato, ma Buck
era, invece, in piena rivolta. Non voleva sfuggire alla mazza, ma
avere il comando del tiro. Gli apparteneva di diritto. Se l’era
guadagnato, e non avrebbe rinunciato.
Perrault venne a dare una mano a François. Tutt’e due lo rincorsero
per quasi un’ora. Gli gettarono mazze: egli le schivò. Lo maledirono,
e maledirono i suoi genitori, e la sua semente sino alle più remote
venture generazioni, e tutti i peli del suo corpo e ogni goccia di
sangue delle sue vene; ed egli rispondeva ad ogni maledizione con
ringhi e si teneva lontano dal loro raggio d’azione. Egli non cercò di
scappare, facendo intendere chiaramente che quando l’avessero
accontentato, sarebbe rientrato al suo posto e sarebbe stato buono.
François alla fine si sedette grattandosi la testa. Perrault guardò
l’orologio e bestemmiò. Il tempo fuggiva, ed essi avrebbero dovuto
essere in cammino già da un’ora. François si grattò nuovamente la

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Evolution Marxian Biology and the

Social Scene Conway Zirkle

Death of a Science in Russia: The Fate of Genetics as

Arboviruses Molecular Biology Evolution and Control 1st

The Diversity of Fishes: Biology, Evolution and

The Survivor 1st Edition Simon Conway

The Biology of the Avian Respiratory System Evolution

Art as Organism Biology and the Evolution of the

Art as Organism Biology and the Evolution of the

The Social Evolution Of World Politics 1st Edition

The Beginnings of Plant Hybridization

Death of a Science in Russia

Published in Great Britain, India, and Pakistan

Library of Congress Catalogue Card Number: 58-11747

it fell to my lot to describe the destruc-

but also discarded as heresies all the advances made in the

accepted only a portion of the theory—only the fragments

own beliefs and how it has pervaded our own thinking.

i n g fields. For over three quarters of a century, the science

the biology that it denounced grew complex and technical-

Marxian biology has recently acquired a new ally. It has

all of the fields that it has infected. For purely practical

ODAY, practically every educated man believes in

Three generations ago, however, evolution was an exciting

—we shall have to utilize all of the knowledge that we can

Still another illustration is furnished by the controversy

As we have stated earlier, biology has advanced an

Human beings have been on earth about one million years.

but the range of each species was limited to a small area. T h e

not limit him to the territory marked out by his remains. T o

were entirely isolated from their neighbors, a certain a m o u n t

ancestors. The rate of human evolution was not the average

are still looking for a definition of species which will satisfy

in a given territory, the smaller groups tended to coalesce.

evolution produced the existing races but, as sufficient time

story. In the Carmel caves, a n u m b e r of skeletons have been

conquests m u s t also have p r o d u c e d effects at least as variable

H e r e , we find both hybridization a n d e x t e r m i n a t i o n pro-

T h e preceding section is little more than a sketch, an

k i n g d o m , and this serves a useful function f o r it helps them

T h e first odd fact about the evolution of the human intel-

5 T h i s must not be taken to mean that we know all that is to be known

path which would enable us to compete on even terms with

adapted to its living conditions ceases to evolve. It has already

the land areas, they remained small and relatively primitive.

like before our heads did. T h i s is shown by the fossils of

so that w e were always u n a d a p t e d to just the right a m o u n t

and therefore the possibility of its development through natural

W h a t the authors are saying indirectly is that intelligence

dling all the useful information likely to be encountered directly

La bestia primordiale preponderante era molto forte in Buck, e in

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