Humankind: A Hopeful History by Rutger Bregman (Bloomsbury, 2020)

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According to bumper sticker wisdom, a cynic is a disillusioned optimist but Rutger Bregman , the Dutch author of ‘Utopia for Realists’, wants at all costs for us to resist cynical thinking about humankind.

The premise of this ‘hopeful history’ is that humans have been given a bad press and that, far from being selfish, mean and mean-minded they are on the whole actually quite nice.

A large chunk of the blame for humanity’s negative image is laid at the door of the mainstream media who realize that sensational stories about the nastiness and brutishness of people helps sell copies and/or serves as effective click-bait.

Bregman concedes that his views may come as a shock to many and admits that when he initially pitched the idea of the book to a number of publishers they thought he was nuts. Since we know where we stand with cynicism, to argue the contrary is, he acknowledges, “downright threatening, subversive and seditious.”

He nevertheless stubbornly sticks to the claim that inherent goodness, not evil, drives civilization. Not all his arguments are convincing but he argues them in a lively, down-to-earth manner. He is quick to accuse cynics of being highly selective with their so-called facts but he is guilty of the same failing.

However, he hits the mark when questioning the motives and accuracy of the influential broken windows theory first introduced by social scientists James Q. Wilson and George L. Kelling in 1982. This has been the basis for some dubious racial (i.e. racist) profiling in the USA in the name of a zero tolerance policy towards criminality. The theory both demands and justifies a full reassessment.

Screen shot 2020-06-12 at 18.00.35Bregman is also correct to cast doubt on the glib assumption that individuals are always primarily driven by self-interest. He argues convincingly that more credence should be given to contrary viewpoint put forward by Elinor Ostrom in her book ‘Governing the Commons’. Ostrom’s much ignored ideas are based on wide-ranging research whereas so many of the counter arguments are founded on anecdotal evidence or heavily manipulated case studies.

A recurring theme of the book is that many psychological and sociological experiments have been deliberately skewed to give academic weight to claims that would otherwise be dismissed. This results in a ‘nosebo effect’ i.e. confirming predicted negative results of research while glossing over the flaws in the methodology.

And it isn’t just science that Bregman has in his sights. The bleak fictional events in William Golding’s famous novel ‘The Lord of the Flies’ are countered by a real-life case study of a group of Australian schoolboys who were shipwrecked and stranded on a desert island for 15 months. Far from turning upon one another like ignoble savages these youngsters developed close bonds and a system of co-operation before they were eventually rescued.

Of course, Bregman is not arguing that evil does not exist or that people always act for the common good. He recognizes, for example, that “Humans have a bad tendency of being tempted by evil masquerading as good.” You only have to look to the Holocaust to realize what depths humanity can sink to. More banal examples can be found any day of the week with a ‘me-first’ mentality that drives queue-jumpers, panic buyers and rule-breakers.

But this does not necessarily mean that each and every one of us is governed by the principle that Bregman dubs “the survival of the shameless”  His incurable optimism remains impressively intact. This is evident in his considered opinion that disasters bring out the best in all of us. He writes “It’s when crisis hits –when the bombs fall or the floodwaters rise –that we humans become our best selves.”

I’m not entirely swayed by this positive spin on catastrophic world events. In the UK, the spirit of the Blitz has passed into folklore but the same altruism has not always been evident in Britain’s response to the Covid-19 pandemic. The illogical stockpiling of toilet paper and rash disregard to social distancing rules don’t totally back up Bregman’s belief that “Our natural inclination is for solidarity.” I think it would be more accurate to say that crises bring out the best and the worst in people.

On balance though, I would endorse Bregman’s belief that we should expect the best of people instead of continually presuming the worst. The logical basis for this is that: “If we treat people like dirt, and they’ll be dirt. Treat them like human beings, and they’ll act like human beings.”

The book ends with a chapter containing ten rules to live by but these are so general that they are about as useful as the biblical commandments. The advice to think positively, be realistic and ask more questions is fairly woolly and the suggestion that we should “avoid the news” just seems plain wrong. Journalists may be biased and untrustworthy but we all need to know what’s happening in the world if we are to make informed decisions. ‘Apply critical thinking to news stories’ would be a better rule.

Overall though, Rutger Bregman deserves credit for asking important crucial questions like: How can we restore trust in politics? How can we stem the tide of cynicism in society? And how can we save our democracy? While he doesn’t give definitive answers to any of these big questions, he brings some valuable lateral thinking to the table.