In this way the would-be leader can fight back against the depressingly heavy social blanket that falls over him as he struggles to rise in his massive super-tribe. The vast majority of all sports, pastimes, hobbies and ‘good works’ have as their principle function not their specifically avowed aims, but the much more basic aim of follow-the-leader-and-beat-him-if-you-can. However, this is a description and not a criticism. In fact, the situation would be much more grave if this multitude of harmless sub-groups, or pseudo-tribes, did not exist. They funnel off a great deal of the frustrated ladder-climbing that might otherwise cause considerable havoc.
I have said that the nature of these activities is of little significance, but nevertheless it is intriguing to notice how many sports and hobbies involve an element of ritualized aggression, over and above simple competitiveness. To take a single example: the act of ‘taking aim’ is, in origin, a typically aggressive pattern of co-ordination. It reappears, suitably transformed, in a whole range of pastimes, including bowling, billiards, darts, table tennis, croquet, archery, squash, netball, cricket, tennis, football, hockey, polo, shooting and spear-fishing. In children’s toys and fairgrounds it abounds. In a slightly heavier disguise it accounts for a great deal of the appeal of amateur photography: we ‘shoot’ film, ‘capture’ on celluloid, take snap ‘shots’, and our cameras = pistols, rolls of film = bullets, cameras with long telescopic lenses = rifles, and cine-cameras = machine-guns. However, although these symbolic equations may be helpful, they are by no means essential in the search for ‘pastime dominance’. Matchbox-top collecting will do almost as well, providing, of course, you can make contact with suitable rivals, similarly preoccupied, whose matchbox-top collections you can then seek to dominate.
The setting up of specialist sub-groups is not the only solution to the super-status dilemma. Localized geographical pseudo-tribes also exist. Each village, town, city and county within a super-tribe develops its own regional hierarchy, providing further substitutes for thwarted super-tribal leadership.
On a smaller scale still, each individual has his own closely knit ‘social circle’ of personal acquaintances. The list of noncommercial names in his private phone-book or address-book gives a good indication of the extent of this kind of pseudo-tribe. It is particularly important because, as in a true tribe, all its members are personally known to him. Unlike a true tribe, however, all the members are not necessarily known to one another. The social groups overlap and interlock with one another in a complex network. Nevertheless, for each individual his social pseudo-tribe provides one more sphere in which he can assert himself and express his leadership.
Another major super-tribal pattern that has helped to split the group up without destroying it has been the system of social classes. These have existed in much the same basic form from the times of the earliest civilizations: an upper or ruling class, a middle class comprising merchants and specialists, and a lower class of peasants and labourers. Subdivisions have appeared as the groups have swollen, and the details have varied, but the principle has remained the same.
The recognition of distinct classes has made it possible for members of classes below the top one to strive for a more realistic dominance status at their particular class level. Belonging to a class is much more than a mere question of money. A man at the top of his social class may earn more than a man at the bottom of the class above. The rewards of being dominant at his own level may be such that he has no wish to abandon his class-tribe. Overlaps of this sort indicate just how strongly tribal the classes can become.
The class-tribe system of splitting up the super-tribe has, however, suffered serious set-backs in recent years. As the super-tribes grew to even bigger proportions and technologies became more and more complex, so the standard of mass education had to be raised to keep pace with the situation. Education, combined with improvements in mass communication and especially the pressures of mass advertising, led to a major breakdown in class barriers. The comforts of ‘knowing your own station in life were replaced by the exciting and increasingly real possibilities of exceeding that station. Despite this, the old class-tribe system kept on fighting back and is still doing so. We can see the outward signs of this running battle very clearly today in the ever-increasing speed of fashion cycles. New styles of clothing, furniture, decoration, music and art replace one another more and more quickly. It is often suggested that this is the result of commercial interests and pressures, but it would be just as easy — easier, in fact— to go on selling new variations of old themes rather than introducing new themes. Yet new themes are continually demanded, because the old ones permeate so rapidly through the social system. The quicker they reach the lower strata, the quicker they must be replaced by something new and exclusive at the top. History has never before witnessed such an incredible turnover in styles and tastes. The result, of course, is a major loss of the pseudo-tribal identity provided by the old, rigid social class system.
Replacing this loss, to some extent, is a new super-tribal splitting system that has recently developed. Age classes are emerging. A widening gap has appeared between what we must now call a young-adult pseudo-tribe and an old-adult pseudo-tribe. The former possesses its own customs and its own dominance system which are increasingly distinct from those of the latter. The entirely new phenomenon of powerful teenage idols and student leaders has ushered in a major new pseudo-tribal division. Desultory attempts on the part of the old-adult pseudo-tribe to encompass the new group have met with very limited success. The piling of old-adult honours on the heads of young-adult leaders, or the tolerant acceptance of the extremes of young-adult fashions and styles, has only led to further rebellious excesses. (If cannabis smoking is ever legalized and widely adopted, for example, an immediate replacement will be required, just as alcohol had to be replaced by cannabis itself.) When these excesses reach a point that the old adults cannot engulf, or refuse to copy, then the young adults can rest easy for a while. Safely flying their new pseudo-tribal flags, they can enjoy the satisfactions of their new pseudo-tribal independence and their more manageable, self-contained dominance system.
The sobering lesson to be learnt from all this is that the ancient biological need of the human species for a distinct tribal identity is a powerful force that cannot be subdued.
As fast as one super-tribal split is invisibly mended, another one appears. Well-meaning authorities talk airily about ‘hopes for a global society’. They see clearly the technical possibility of such a development, given the marvels of modern communication, but they stubbornly overlook the biological difficulties.
A pessimistic view? Certainly not. The prospects will remain gloomy only as long as there is a failure to come to terms with the biological demands of the species. Theoretically there is no good reason why small groupings, satisfying the requirements of tribal identity, should not be constructively interrelated inside thriving super-tribes which, in turn, constructively interact to form a massive, global mega-tribe. Failures to date have largely been due to attempts to suppress the existing differences between the various groups, rather than to improve the nature of these differences by converting them into more rewarding and peaceful forms of competitive social interaction. Attempts to iron out the whole world into one great expanse of uniform monotony are doomed to disaster. This applies at all levels, from break-away nations to tear-away gangs. When the sense of social identity is threatened, it fights back. The fact that it has to fight for its existence means, at the least, social upheaval and, at the worst, bloodshed. We shall be taking a closer look at this in a later chapter, but for the moment we must return to the question of social status and examine it at the level of the individual.
Where exactly does he stand, this modern status-seeker? First, he has his personal friends and acquaintances. Together they form his social pseudo-tribe. Second, he has his local community — his regional pseudo-tribe. Third, he has his specializations: his profession, craft or employment, and his pastimes, hobb
ies or sports. They make up his specialist pseudo-tribes. Fourth, he has the remnants of a class-tribe and a new age-tribe.
Put together, these sub-groupings provide him with a much greater chance of achieving some sort of dominance and of satisfying his basic status urge, than if he were simply a tiny unit in a homogeneous mass, a human ant crawling about in a gigantic, super-tribal ant-hill. So far, so good; but there are snags.
To begin with, the dominance achieved in a limited subgroup is itself limited. It may be real, but it is only a partial solution. It is impossible to ignore the fact that there are bigger things going on all around. Being a big fish in a little pond cannot blot out dreams of a bigger pond. In the past this was not such a problem, because the rigid class system, ruthlessly applied, kept everyone in his ‘place’. This may have been very neat, but it could all too easily lead to super-tribal stagnation. Individuals with minor talents were well served, but many of those with greater talents were held back, frittering their energies away on strictly limited goals. It was possible for a potential genius from the lower class to stand less chance of success than a raging idiot from the upper class.
The rigid class structure had its value as a splitting device, but it was a grotesquely wasteful system, and it is not surprising that it eventually succumbed. Its ghost goes marching on, but it has largely been replaced today by a much more efficient meritocracy, in which each individual is theoretically able to find his optimum level. Once there he can consolidate his social identity by means of the various pseudo-tribal groupings.
This meritocratic system provides an exciting format, but there is another side to it. With excitement goes strain. An essential feature of a meritocracy is that, although it avoids waste of talent, it also opens up a clear channel from the very bottom to the very top of the enormous super-tribal community. If any small boy can, on his personal merits, eventually become the greatest of leaders, then for every one who succeeds there will be vast numbers of failures. These failures can no longer put the blame on the external forces of the wicked class system. They must place it firmly where it belongs, on their own personal shortcomings.
It seems, therefore, that any large-scale, lively, progressive super-tribe must inevitably contain a high proportion of intensely frustrated status-seekers. The dumb contentment of a rigid, stagnant society is replaced by the feverish longings and anxieties of a mobile, developing one. How do the struggling status-seekers react to this situation? The answer is that, if they cannot get to the top, they do their best to create the illusion of being less subordinate than they really are. To understand this, it will help at this point to take a sidelong glance at the world of insects.
Many kinds of insects are poisonous, and larger animals learn to avoid eating them. It is in the interests of these insects to show a warning flag of some kind. The typical wasp, for example, carries a conspicuous colour pattern of black and yellow bands on its body. This is so distinctive that it is easy for a predatory animal to remember it. After a few unfortunate experiences it quickly learns to avoid insects bearing this pattern. Other, unrelated, poisonous insect species may also carry a similar pattern. They become members of what has been called a ‘warning club’.
The important point for us, in the present context, is that some harmless species of insects have taken advantage of this system by developing colour patterns similar to those of the poisonous members of the ‘warning club’. Certain innocuous flies, for instance, display black and yellow bands on their bodies that mimic the colour patterns of the wasps. By becoming fake members of the ‘warning club’ they reap the benefits without having to possess any real poison. The killers dare not attack them, even though they would, in reality, make a pleasant meal.
We can use this insect example as a crude analogy to help us to understand what has happened to the human status-seeker. All we have to do is to substitute the possession of dominance for the possession of poison. Truly dominant individuals will display their high status in many visible ways. They will wave their dominance flags in the form of the clothes they wear, the houses they live in, the way they travel, talk, entertain and eat. By wearing the social badges of the ‘dominance club’ they make their senior status immediately obvious, both to subordinates and to one another, so that they do not have constantly to reassert their dominance in a more direct way. Like the poisonous insects, they do not have to keep on ‘stinging’ their enemies, they only have to wave the flag that says they could if they wanted to.
It follows, naturally enough, that harmless subordinates can join the ‘dominance club’ and enjoy its benefits if only they can display the same flags. If, like the black-and-yellow flies, they can mimic the black-and-yellow wasps, they can at least create the illusion of dominance.
Dominance mimicry has, in fact, become a major preoccupation of the super-tribal status-seekers, and it is important to examine it more closely. First, it is essential to make a clear distinction between a status symbol and a dominance mimic. A status symbol is an outward sign of the true level of social dominance you have attained. A dominance mimic is an outward sign of the level of dominance you would like to attain, but have not yet reached. In terms of material objects, a status symbol is something you can afford; a dominance mimic is something you cannot quite afford, but buy all the same. Dominance mimics therefore frequently involve making major sacrifices in other directions, whereas true status symbols do not.
Earlier societies, with their more rigid class structures, clearly did not give so much scope for dominance mimicry. As I have already pointed out, people were much more content to ‘know their station’. But the upgrading urge is a powerful force, and there were always exceptions, no matter how rigid the class structure. The dominant individuals, seeing their position weakened by imitation, reacted harshly. They introduced strict regulations and even laws to curb the mimicry.
The various rules of costume give a good example. In England, the law of the Westminster parliament of 1363 was concerned chiefly with regulating the fashion of dress in the different social classes, so important had this subject become. In Renaissance Germany, a woman who dressed above her station was liable to have a heavy wooden collar locked around her neck. In India, strict rules were introduced relating the way you folded your turban to your particular caste. In the England of Henry VIII no woman whose husband could not afford to maintain a light horse for the king’s service was allowed to wear velvet bonnets or golden chains. In America, in early New England, a woman was forbidden to wear a silk scarf unless her husband was worth a thousand dollars. The examples are endless.
Today, with the breakdown of the class structure, these laws have become severely curtailed. They are limited now to a few special categories such as medals, titles and regalia, which it is still illegal, or at least socially unacceptable, to adopt without the appropriate status. In general, however, the dominant individual is far less protected against the practices of dominance mimicry than he once was.
He has retaliated with ingenuity. Accepting the fact that lower-status individuals are determined to copy him, he has responded by making available cheap, mass-produced imitations of high-status goods. The bait is tempting and has been eagerly swallowed. An example will explain how the trap works.
High-status wife wears a diamond necklace. Low-status wife wears a bead necklace. Both necklaces are well made; the beads are inexpensive, but they are gay and attractive and make no pretence to be anything other than what they are. Unfortunately, they have low status value, and the low-status wife wants something more. There is no law or social edict preventing her from wearing a diamond necklace. By working hard, saving every penny, and eventually spending more than she can afford, she may be able to acquire a necklace of small but real diamonds. If she takes this step, adorning her neck with a dominance mimic, she starts to become a threat to the high-status wife. The difference in their status displays becomes blurred. High-status husband therefore puts on the market necklaces of large, fake diamonds. T
hey are inexpensive and superficially so attractive that the low-status wife abandons her struggle for real diamonds and settles for the fake ones instead. The trap is sprung. True dominance mimicry has been averted.
On the surface this is not apparent. The low-status wife, sporting her flashy fake necklace, seems to be mimicking her dominant rival, but this is an illusion. The point is that the fake necklace is too good to be true, when judged against her general way of life. It fools no one, and therefore fails to act as an aid in raising her status.
It is surprising that the trick works so well and so often, but it does. It has infiltrated many spheres of life and has not been without its repercussions. It has destroyed a great deal of genuine but overtly low-status art and craft. Native folk art has been replaced by cheap reproductions of the great masters; folk music has been replaced by the gramophone record; peasant craftsmanship has been replaced by mass-produced plastic imitations of more expensive goods.
Folklore societies have been rapidly formed to bewail and reverse this trend, but the damage has already been done. At best, all they can achieve is to act as folk-culture taxidermists. Once the status race was opened up from the bottom to the top of society, there was no turning back. If, as I suggested earlier, society is repeatedly going to rebel against the dreary uniformity of this ‘new monotony’, then it will do so by giving birth to new cultural patterns rather than by propping up old, dead ones.
For the really serious status-climber, however, there is no rebellion. Nor, for him, do the cheap fakes provide a satisfactory answer. He sees them for what they are, a clever side-track, a mere fantasy version of true dominance mimicry. For him, the dominance mimics must be genuine articles, and he must always go one step further than he can afford, when purchasing them, in order to give the impression that he is slightly more socially dominant than he in fact is. Only then does he stand a chance of getting away with it.
The Human Zoo Page 6
