Humankind: A Hopeful History by Rutger Bregman, translated by Elizabeth Manton and Erica Moore

It’s a belief that unites the left and right, psychologists and philosophers, writers and historians. It drives the headlines that surround us and the laws that touch our lives. From Machiavelli to Hobbes, Freud to Dawkins, the roots of this belief have sunk deep into Western thought. Human beings, we’re taught, are by nature selfish and governed by self-interest.

Humankind makes a new argument: that it is realistic, as well as revolutionary, to assume that people are good. The instinct to cooperate rather than compete, trust rather than distrust, has an evolutionary basis going right back to the beginning of Homo sapiens. By thinking the worst of others, we bring out the worst in our politics and economics too.

In this major book, internationally bestselling author Rutger Bregman takes some of the world’s most famous studies and events and reframes them, providing a new perspective on the last 200,000 years of human history. From the real-life Lord of the Flies to the Blitz, a Siberian fox farm to an infamous New York murder, Stanley Milgram’s Yale shock machine to the Stanford prison experiment, Bregman shows how believing in human kindness and altruism can be a new way to think – and act as the foundation for achieving true change in our society.

It is time for a new view of human nature.

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It has taken me longer than usual to write this review, and there are a number of reasons for that. Firstly, it’s non-fiction, and I’ve always found non-fiction harder to review than fiction.  Secondly, life has, as it so often does, conspired against me in one way or another.  The main reason for my dithering, however, is that I’m torn in my opinion and what I want to say about this book.  There are things that I absolutely love about Humankind: A Hopeful History, and yet it has left me with questions.  And maybe that’s the point – such books should encourage the reader to question and read further.  But for me, there are a couple of gaps that have stayed with me and that I can’t quite reconcile with the proposition that Bregman presents to the reader. 

I’ll start with the good stuff.  I absolutely love the premise of Humankind, which is that people are, generally, good.  It’s a nice thought, and an idea that I’d like to believe, although whether it’s something I want to test when presented with a walk home alone late at night is another matter entirely, but I like to think that people are generally good and look out for one another.  To support this proposition, Bregman has gathered together a number of case studies – some you’ll have heard of while others are less well known – to illustrate the point.  And the evidence is compelling, to an extent.  To me, the case studies seem quite specific, and while they are excellent examples, backed up by scientific study, of the myriad ways people do look out for one another, even complete strangers, I couldn’t help but wonder at the existence of case studies that might equally support the counterargument.

The case studies presented here are fascinating, and the book is worth reading for those alone, whether you agree with the overarching argument or not.  Bregman presents these studies in an incredibly engaging style, covering the real-life Lord of the Flies – an account of six young boys marooned on a small island in the South Pacific for over a year and widely believed to be dead until an Australian sailor stumbled across them.  There’s the notorious Stanford Prison Experiment, which initially seems an odd choice to include, until you realise the bias with which the results were presented – once I’d understood the finer details of the study, its inclusion in this book made more sense.  I could go on, but this really is a fascinating collection of examples that show our species in a positive light.

if it’s true that human beings are kind-hearted by nature, then it’s time to address the inevitable question… How do you explain Auschwitz?

If you’re anything like me, you might now be thinking something along the lines of “well that’s great, but what about…?”  Bregman does tackle one of the main counter examples to the premise of Humankind, but for me there are two additional examples that I can’t quite explain having read this.  Obviously, I don’t expect Bregman to cover every single scenario that appears to contradict his argument – books have a finite number of pages, after all – but I couldn’t help but wonder:

• Why did slavery persist for so long if humans are generally good?
• Why does violence against women and domestic violence persist?

Neither are tackled in the book, although Bregman does say that studies show that we generally like people who look like us, which might go some way to explain how slavery came about, if not how long it was considered acceptable for. I can’t find any argument for the second point.

the effects of oxytocin seem limited to one’s own group. The hormone not only enhances affection for friends, it can also intensify aversion to strangers. Turns out oxytocin doesn’t fuel universal fraternity. It powers feelings of ‘my people first’.

So, I loved Humankind: A Hopeful History.  It’s engaging – and unusually so for non-fiction in my opinion – and the case studies are genuinely fascinating.  And I want to believe the premise behind it, I really do.  I just think that it doesn’t quite explain the instances of people being awful to each other that are very much apparent in the world today and throughout our history.  Maybe there are just a few bad eggs ruining the reputation of our species, I can’t say.  So, while I’m somewhat convinced by Bregman’s argument, I’m not wholly behind it, but I do recommend giving it a whirl and being open to the possibility.