Original Post (with comments)

Did you ever wonder why Lex Luthor could abuse his henchmen, the man-children who could have easily stomped him into the dirt? If you did, it probably wasn't for long. He had something over them. He had some form of control. It was either the promise of riches or the threat of physical injury. In the case of latter, how, one might ask, would little Luthor pose a credible threat to a menacing minion? Simple, the rebellious henchman would be handled by upstart henchmen looking to make a name for themselves - key word, themselves - even the biggest guy can be felled by a group. It's like a circle of fear, with the guy at the top calling the shots. It occurs to me that, though this theme is almost cartoony in the Superman series, it is very real in places like Africa.

I recently watched the movie, Hotel Rwanda. It's like an African version of Schindler's List. A hotel manager finagles the safety of 1200 plus refugees during the genocide that took place in 1994. A sobering experience, this movie (but worth watching, for certain). As usual, I ended up focusing on the background, rather than on the compelling story of the main character. I was taken in by the abject absurdity of it all. The whole conflict was based upon the differences between two groups, the Tutsis and the Hutus.

What made them different? If Hotel Rwanda is historically accurate (once again, I'm too busy for good diligence), The Belgians. Back in the days when people bought into social Darwinism, the Belgians were colonizing Rwanda. They segregated the indigenous population based upon physical appearance - the fitter looking people (they measured the bridge of peoples' noses) were designated as Tutsis. The rest were Hutus. From there, these European geniuses arranged the economy to have the Tutsis making the decisions while the Hutus executed them. Obviously, over time, there developed a significant resentment on the part of the Hutus toward the Tutsis. The conflict in 1994 was the culmination of that resentment - the Hutus took control and began the systematic removal of the Tutsis from the Rwandan landscape. They purposefully targeted children to eliminate the next generation. And people wonder why Africa has so many problems.

Here we see a classic example of the caveman mentality run wild. The people of Rwanda grabbed onto the notion of in-groups versus out-groups, a standard issue tendency in the caveman mind, and took it to its most heinous ends. The sad irony is that the distinction between the people was arbitrary with respect to any notion of human value. It was based upon looks, which absolutely do not correlate with worth as a person. All it took was the enforcement (by the Belgians) of this distinction for a few generations and the caveman mind was primed to continue the phenomenon indefinitely. Had they only immediately rejected the division when the Belgians left town, all of the bloodshed would have been avoided. Is this not curious?

Not really. Once a certain group has attained a particular standard of living, regardless of who is propping up the fantasy, they are unlikely to relinquish it. So the Tutsis clung to the distintion, which further flamed the fires of resentment in the Hutus. It's a Pandora's Box situation, I think, but what are we to make of it?

This matters when we think about the concept of aid to Africa. What exactly do they need? Is it food? Certainly. Is it water? Most definitely. So we should send as much of both as we can? Uh, no. The fact is that the situation in Africa is one in which resources are not exactly distributed equitably. The very same mentality that accounts for the pervasive conflict on the continent accounts for the fact that aid resources rarely make it to their intended destinations. They fatten the wolves and serve as bartering chips with other wolves. It's a caveman's world, but there is a solution, a not so pretty one.

If Africa is to truly be helped, force is the only answer, systematic force aimed at eliminating the arbitrary divisions between the people there. A vast marketing plan for human rights, a la Thomas Payne's "Common Sense," would have to be put in motion to start. Then, forces would have to be installed to prevent discrimination on the grounds of the prohibited divisions. But, as I said, this is not pretty.

It requires us, and I mean all of us, to acknowledge the notion that our culture is better than the African culture. We are not saying that our people are better than theirs. We're saying that the way we've set up our society promotes the kinds of life experience that every human deserves. Our society is better, but we have no exclusivity on it. There are but two important conditions that must exist to enable any population to experience the fear-free lives that most of us in the Western world experience - firm belief in the validity of human rights and the rule of the law, and the courage to enforce those beliefs. Isn't our aid misguided if we're not committed to fostering this in Africa?

Oh, but this sounds very neocon, doesn't it? Liberals will shriek at coming right out and saying that our way is better, yet they believe it deep down as much as anyone. They'll recoil in horror at the thought of pointing guns at African power-mongers who'd as soon burn everything down than walk away quietly. But the fact remains, someone has to get dirty if Africa is ever going to break free from the cycle of conflict. Sending $654 million in "aid" is our way of avoiding getting dirty. Let's at least call it what it is. In closing, read Mark Steyn's recent column. He's got it nailed.

Original Post (with comments)

I don't know about you, but I'm pretty nervous around horses. They're very big, and they are (as far as I'm concerned) very unpredictable. I've heard horror stories of people who got kicked by horses, and I'm pretty much soured on them. But it occurred to me this evening that managing the caveman within each of us is very much like riding a horse. First you have to tame him, then you can take him wherever you please.

Think of our primal tendencies as the horse. When unsaddled and unbroken, the horse does pretty much what he wants, according to his natural proclivities - he seeks safety, food, and sex, and not necessarily in that order. And he's big, which means he's due a wide berth when he's got a head of steam for something. Our goal as enlightened cavemen (and women) is to contain the horse, to control it. This is not unlike the process of breaking a wild mustang.

I have long believed that the human populations (in Africa or the Middle East, for example) that fare the worst in life are dominated by people who are driven exclusively by unbroken horses. Ancient emotions run wild - the quest for status, the indignation and enmity that come from reciprocal altruism unfulfilled, the in-group versus out-group mentality, the male urge to spread his seed far and wide, the willingness to believe falsehood if it supports any of the aforementioned, all of it. The horse lacks the benefit of a harness that is held by a rational, big-picture thinker. But, lest we miss a critical component of this concept, the thinker is not enough.

Were we jockeys without horses, we would be largely unfit for purpose. The thinker would be deprived of the chief instrument of his plans. Indeed, the thinker is never as good at finding shelter, food, and sex as the horse is. No, the horse is essential. He brings with him the courage, the strength, and the resolve to execute the visions of the thinker, even the most primitive of visions. So the first task is to harness the horse, to control him, and a daunting task it is.

The choice of the horse as the embodiment of the caveman mentality is not arbitrary. It is precisely the juxtaposition of power and unpredictability that make the horse the obvious choice. We cannot simply lasso him and expect him to submit. We have to convince him that he cannot win. Fortunately, the rich history of our species is replete with examples from which we can draw our confidence as horse breakers. So long as the horse believes that we are in control, he is ours to do with what we will. And still, it is not easy.

The unpredictability of our horse, even when broken, limits our options. If he gets spooked by dogs, we cannot expect his submission to override this. We must extend our thinking to include accounting for his quirks, for at least he is predictably unpredictable - he won't spook for nothing, but when he does, there's no telling what he'll do. So the thinker gets to know his horse. He gets to know what spooks him and what soothes him so he can guide him gingerly around the obstacles that promote unpredictability. This is our task, and as with any worthwhile task, the rewards are manifest.

When we tame the horse, when we control the horse, we can ride him. We can find a delicate (but durable) balance between our big-picture designs and his power to achieve them. We can steer him around interpersonal conflicts that back him into a corner, but, when options evaporate, a few heels to the hindquarters are all it takes to spur him into action. This is what I'm after. This is what we should all be after - a tame horse that can be unleashed at will. Luckily, this is all figurative. No matter how much I may like this analogy, don't look for me on a horse any time soon.