The Human Evolution Explosion

My best friend and I are attempting to put together a List of books spanning the entirety of human history, knowledge and literature. One of the potential books for the List is The 10 000 Year Explosion: How Civilization Accelerated Human Evolution, by Cochran and Harpending.  Although I don’t agree with all of their conclusions (they actually argue more on the side that evolution advanced civilization far more than civilization advanced evolution), they make some excellent points, many of which revolve around tipping points, phase transitions, and of course, fitness landscapes and levels.  Cochran and Harpending make their argument by looking at the past, without extending it into the future, but of course human evolution will continue in starts and stops.  I think we are approaching such a time when evolution may need to make a few leaps forward in order for humans to survive.

Ever have so many thoughts and ideas and to-do items floating in your head that you can’t keep anything straight/get writer’s block?  That’s where I am.

Our Generation’s Defining Moment

I’m still working on my post about last week’s Next America project, but in the meantime I wanted to mention a noteworthy question from the panel: that of our generation’s defining moment.

For most of the panelists and attendees, it was 9/11, but someone in the audience replied that his was the war in the Balkans. Mine was the genocide in Rwanda. The hypocrisy, the blood lust, the heroism, the frustration, all deeply affected me.  Truth be told, even more so than health care or ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ or the Balkans or even Somalia, I’ve never forgiven the Clinton administration for that.

More important, I think that is when I first recognized the failure of my parents’ generation in the realm of foreign policy; that they were not going to change the world (or no more so than they had done already), leaving us – my generation – to fill the gaps.  

I mention this because a related comment made by Liz Sullivan was that those moments often define our passions, goals, and top concerns. She asked the panelists what their top concerns were (which I didn’t bother to listen to), but I started thinking about mine. Certainly Africa. But not genocide, not R2P, although I have been thinking about it recently, not even the UN.  Instead, the AU and also regional federalism – governance, capacity, diplomacy.

Are these more than indirectly related to Rwanda? I don’t know. Do they have to be? I don’t think so, but it was an interesting thought experiment.

When Things Fall Apart in the Heart of Darkness

It’s ironic that Things Fall Apartby Chinua Achebe, a book important for its rejection of a stereotype, has become the shorthand for that very stereotype. I’m talking about our common (mis)conceptions about Africans.

Two of the most common themes in writing about Africa are ‘things fall apart’ and some variation on ‘darkness’: the ‘Dark Continent’, the Heart of Darkness. I’ve noticed this before, but it came to mind recently when Chris Blattman complained about the quality of writing on Africa.

I May Have to Give Up Cashews, or, Markets in Idealism

Ugh.

Senegalese bandits are chopping off ears, according to the BBC. Apparently some rebel factions have turned to banditry and armed robbery. Cashews are an important cash crop, so harvest time always brings an uptick in violence.

The question for me is now, what can I do about it? I can’t go over there and stop every rebel from chopping off people’s ears, but I am still a player in the economic system (or lack thereof) that provides these incentives – a cashew consumer (yum). But 1. would any choices I might make really have an impact? and 2. what would that impact be?

1. Not at all. I don’t buy that many cashews anyway, and I don’t really buy any foods that contain cashews. Perhaps if I got all of my friends and family and their friends and family and started a real boycott, then the impact would be measurable.
2. Assuming it’s just me doing this, then the consequences are that A. I no longer get to eat cashews (for how long, till the rebels stop rebelling?) and B. I assuage my own conscience but make absolutely no broader impact. I’m definitely in favor of conscientious living and ethical shopping, but in addition to or as part of a total effort to change the world, not as a substitute for some other, higher impact action. But assume a Washington metro area cashew ban. Imagine we even get members of Congress involved (freedom cashews!); what then? Will cashews become the next big certified resource (like timber or diamonds)?

Probably not. I don’t think the market will care…. Actually, I’m not even sure too many people besides me and the farmers and the BBC report will care. And absent some big ‘conflict-free cashews’ certification program, well, as a friend put it:

[E]ven if you effectively reduced demand for cashews, those farmers who were not robbed would lose out on their livelihood and the robbers would still be very bad people.

Continuing the market geekiness (neither of us are economists), he said:

Although, if you dramatically increased the cost of cashews perhaps they could afford some security. Maybe you should GORGE on cashews. That might help.

To which my only real response is, mmmmm cashews.

My preferences in nuts aside, my real question is, what can someone like me do with news like this? Do I concientiously abstain from cashews? Do I organize a cashew boycott? Do I write about it, tag the article, maybe write to a few human rights groups, and hope that the BBC reporter does a good job of catching someone’s attention to arrange some security for these people? Do I really go on faith and believe that the Senegalese government will use the military and police to crack down on the rebels (and what might be the consequences of unleashing more armed people – I know nothing about the reputation of either the Senegalese military or police)? What are the limits of international consumers and/or regular citizens trying to make life better for someone halfway around the world? What are the limits of everyday idealism? And how do I push those limits, and act to the fullest extent possible within them?

I don’t know the answers, and I’m not even sure there are any, definitive ones, but that doesn’t mean I won’t keep asking.