The profound effects of culture, social class, and social expe-riences on the course of individual development usually dominate the influences of genes. My earlier metaphor referring to the homogeneously gray cloth woven from the black threads of temperament and the white threads of experience also applies to the relation between the genomes of isolated populations and
their cultures’ practices. The genetic differences among world populations are small in an absolute sense, and alterations in the natural environment along with globalization of commerce and changing political structures can affect the observed outcomes of these genes.
More important, the genetic differences among reproductively isolated human groups have no political or legal implications.
Women have higher basal metabolic rates and less muscle mass than men, but most democratic societies see no reason to use these features as a basis for awarding or restricting privileges to females. Unfortunately, many humans are tempted to evaluate any group difference as good or bad. Therefore, the possible exis-tence of variation among ethnic groups in temperamental biases arouses strong emotion. When our understanding of the genetic and temperamental profiles of all human groups is more complete, which should occur during the next two centuries, we will learn that isolated populations possess special constellations of temper-aments. But I suspect that the evidence will also indicate that each population possesses some biases that are adaptive in their society and some that are maladaptive. Hence, the account will be balanced. Suppose, for the sake of illustration, scientists discover that Caucasian females are at a slightly higher risk for depression than females with an African pedigree, but the African females are at slightly greater risk for developing diabetes. Or perhaps we will learn that Asians possess a temperamental profile that favors supe-rior talent on spatial reasoning problems but also possess genes that make the possibility of suicide more probable. These exam-ples imply that when all the evidence is in, we will appreciate that the alleles unique to each human group have both advantages and disadvantages.
There is no basis, either logical or empirical, for passing laws or implementing social practices that treat groups with distinc-tive genomes in a special way. Even the biologists who believe that human behavior should be viewed in a biological perspective do not insist that our moral evaluations or laws should accommodate only to scientific facts. They stop short of declaring that what is true in nature should be the only basis for deciding what human characteristics are good. Truth is a feature that applies to state-ments about the world, not to people. The adjectives “good” and
“bad” apply to people and their actions.
Unfortunately, modern capitalist societies force many adults to be more competitive and aggressive than they would like, and they search for a rationale that might excuse excessive display of these qualities. When biologists declare that a fierce competitiveness that ignores the welfare of others is “natural,” many citizens inter-pret that statement as meaning that this behavioral style is morally acceptable. Hence, each person can cover such actions with a veil of morality that makes the behavior not only necessary but also virtuous—like the kings or tribal chiefs in many ancient societies who asked astrologers or shamans to decide when to attack an enemy and when to plant spring crops.
A great deal of conflict might have been avoided if eighteenth-century Americans had not been keen on basing their ethics and laws on what was true in nature. During the century prior to the Civil War, many arguments for or against the morality of slavery hinged on whether Negroes were a member of the same species as whites. If yes, then Negroes had to be awarded freedom. If not, slave owners were justified in denying them liberty. Empirical facts were the basis for deciding what was an ethical issue. Why did eighteenth-century Americans look to science for authority? Why
did they, and why do we, continue to regard scientific facts as the best defense of a moral proposition?
One reason is that scientific facts are presumably objective because they are derived from nature rather than human opinion.
Therefore, they seem to be impartial, fair, and just. Moreover, science has gained the respect of the community through humani-tarian advances, technical feats that magnify our sense of potency, and the prediction of a few future moments. As a result, science and a rational approach to experience have acquired a power that makes it easy for citizens to think that scientific knowledge is the best guide to morals and legislation.
The natural sciences confessed at the beginning of the last century, however, that their knowledge had no moral implica-tions, because nature is value-free. Hence, citizens would have to look elsewhere for ethical guidance. As the nineteenth century came to a close, many European intellectuals were elaborating Kant’s distinction between knowledge and values and assenting to Kierkegaard’s plea to recognize the unbridgeable chasm between what is known and what is good. Ethics could never be found in reason, but only in each person’s faith. But many in our society were not receptive to that declaration. Because neither the church nor philosophers were able to supply a persuasive rationale for morality in the twentieth century, scientists stepped forward to fill the breach, promising to solve the problems of ethical guidance by gathering objective information on questions with moral implica-tions for the larger community. I am not sure, however, that the social or biological sciences can keep their promise.
Some anthropologists believe that studies of apes or non-modern cultures might reveal the basic nature of humanity and tell us how to construct an ethics that is consonant with nature’s
wishes rather than in opposition to them. It is unlikely, however, that studies of chimpanzees or other cultures can serve that func-tion. One species of ape, called gibbons, are loyal to their mate and resemble prairie voles; gorillas, by contrast, do not bond to a single partner. Furthermore, bonobo chimpanzees have sex when they are upset, but a closely related strain of chimpanzees becomes aggressive when upset. It is not obvious, therefore, which species is the best model for humans—should we make love or war? Males, apes and humans, are sexually more promiscuous than females, but that scientific fact does not mean that we should change our laws regarding adultery.
Most Americans believe that the expression of anger is in accord with nature, and parents allow their children to display some aggression when frustrated or attacked and tell their chil-dren to defend themselves if coerced or bullied. Many also assume that if anger and hostility were always suppressed children might develop psychosomatic symptoms. However, Jean Briggs, who observed the Utku Eskimos of Hudson Bay, challenged the idea that suppression of hostility has unwanted consequences. Every display of anger or tantrums by an Utku child older than age two is followed by adult indifference; essentially the child receives the
“silent treatment.” Initially, the children are upset; however, after a year or two of this regimen tantrums vanish and aggression toward others is rare. Colitis, headaches, and other psycholog-ical symptoms that are supposed to result from the suppression of anger and aggression are also notably absent. Thus the answer to the question “Is it basic for humans to express anger or to suppress it?” is “Neither.” The consequences of suppressing hostility always depend on the social context. It is maladaptive for individ-uals who live in an igloo nine months of the year to allow the
expression of anger in any form, and this suppression does not lead to psychosomatic symptoms.
Each species, like the members of a culture, tries to adapt to its local conditions. Therefore, it is doubtful that any one species or culture can provide the “proper” model for human societies in the twenty-first century. If our ethics cannot find a foundation in scientific facts, where can we find a rationale for a moral code?
One important source lies with the views of the majority, which, of course, change with time. Most Americans regard violence, dishonesty, intolerance, and coercion as morally indefensible, and a referendum on each would reflect that belief. Indeed, on elec-tion day many moral issues are placed on local ballots, suggesting the community’s receptivity to using public sentiment as a guide to the solution of ethical dilemmas. When the Supreme Court recognized the difficulty of defining pornography objectively, the justices decided that local attitudes should determine the books and movies that violated local sensibility. The court legitimized the community’s emotional reaction as a determinant of values.
The pragmatic spirit in America is one reason for some opposi-tion to an ethically neutral attitude regarding the genetic differences among human populations. Americans are reluctant to celebrate knowledge that does not have some useful purpose, even though Congress voted millions of dollars to place telescopes in the sky in order to learn more about the earliest moments of our universe.
This knowledge serves understanding and does not have obvious pragmatic implications. The products of science are one of the most powerful ways to illuminate many aspects of our world. The scientific conclusions that are constructed from the mysterious marriage of the concrete and the imagined evoke an emotional blend that combines clarity of comprehension with a feeling of
awe or wonder for which English has no name. However, we still ask for more. Not satisfied with the gift of a more satisfying comprehension, we also demand that the fruits of all research be applied in some way, or at least help us decide what we should do when we have to choose one action over another. We must never forget, however, that scientific facts about brains, animals, or cultures, considered alone, can never be the basis of a moral premise. Facts can prune the tree of morality, but they can never be the seedbed.