Published by EH.NET  (May 1998)
Jared  Diamond,  _Guns, Germs and Steel: The Fates of Human
Societies_. New York: W. W. Norton, 1997.  480 pp.  $27.50 (cloth),
ISBN: 0-393-31755-2.
Reviewed  for  EH.NET by  Joel Mokyr, Departments of Economics and
History, Northwestern University.  <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>


 Jared  Diamond  is a physiologist and evolutionary biologist with a
passion for  archaeology  and linguistics. That, by itself, should
seem to make him irrelevant  to  economic  history.  Yet  his widely
read and admired recent book,  honored  last  month  with  a  Pulitzer
Prize,  is  one of the more important  contributions  to  long-term
economic  history  and  is  simply mandatory  to  anyone  who
purports to engage Big Questions in the area of long-term  global
history.  He  starts  off his account with what he calls "Yali's
question."  Yali is a New Guinea notable, who one day poses to the
author  the  question  why  white  people  have  so  much  'cargo'
(western manufactured  goods  desired  by  New Guineans), but New
Guinea produces no cargo that Westerners are interested in.

Indeed,  the  question  of  questions.  Diamond  joins such
heavyweights in economic  history   as  Eric  Jones,  Douglass North,
Nathan Rosenberg, and recently  David  Landes  in  asking  why "we"
are so rich and "they" are so poor.  Is  it institutions? Culture?
Technology? Religion? Diamond does not reject  any  of  these answers
altogether, but instead formulates models in which  they become
endogenous variables.  The real exogenous variable, when all  is  said
and  done,  is  geography.  Diamond, to put it bluntly, is a
geographical  determinist.  The  shape  and  location of continents,
flora, fauna,  microbes,  water,  climate,  topography, all are truly
exogenous to history. The rest is endogenous.

Geography  has  of  course  a terrible reputation. David Landes, in
_Wealth  and  Poverty of Nations_ (New York, 1998) starts off by
recounting how  geography  departments  were closed around the country
without a tear, and   notes   that  "no  other  discipline  has  been
so  depreciated  and disparaged."  Simple  models  that  submit  that
"Britain had an Industrial Revolution  because  it  had  coal" have
long been abandoned. Yet before we dismiss  this  as  another
simplistic model, we have to face the fact that Diamond knows his
stuff inside out, to the point where any thought of using the
adjective "crude" (traditionally preceding "determinist") evaporates
as we  turn  the  pages. Diamond fires off a barrage of facts and
observations based  on  half  a  dozen disciplines most economic
historians this side of Eric   Jones   are   unschooled   in:
archaeology,  botany,  linguistics, anthropology among them. The story
he tells is one of a trajectory in which the  world's  population
bifurcated  for  geographical  reasons.  Once  on different  paths,
Africa,  America,  and  "Eurasia" diverged more and more through
positive feedback effects, in which geography fed into technology,
technology  fed  into  power  structures  and  culture,  feeding  back
into technology  and  growth  until we got a world of Western economic
hegemony. Such "autocatalytic" models which view economic history as a
disequilibrium process  once were shunned by the neoclassical
cliometric orthodoxy. Today, thanks  to  the  efforts  of scholars as
diverse as Douglass North and Paul David,  we  are  getting  used  to
them,  and  the  intellectual gains are substantial.

What, then, are the geographical factors that Diamond thinks
determined the course  of economic history? Above all, it is that
human wealth and success depends  on  interaction with the
environment. Economic history in his view is  a  game  against
nature,  not primarily a social process. Production-- especially  in
agriculture-- depends on the geographical hand we have been dealt.
Yet  Diamond's emphasis is not on soil fertility and minerals as in
the  writings  of  most  geographers, but on the ability of homo
sapiens to domesticate plants and animals. His view is that all
societies and cultures have  approximately  similar  abilities  to
manipulate nature, but the raw materials with which they had to work
were different. Diamond points out in his witty prose that domestic
animals are much like Tolstoy's view of happy marriages:  all  happy
marriages  are  the  same, each unhappy marriage is different  in its
own way. Domesticable animals are all domesticable in the same  way,
but  recalcitrant  animals  are all different. To exploit large
animals for food, energy, or other services, domesticable wild animals
need to  exist,  a  condition that did not obtain in Precolumbian
America (where the  arrival  of  homo sapiens 13,000 years ago had led
apparently to their extinction).  But  even  if  they  existed,  they
needed  to  satisfy some conditions  such as being able to breed in
captivity, safe for children and other  living beings, and so on. He
argues, with great conviction, that the hippos and giraffes of Africa,
the jaguars of the Amazon, and the kangaroos of  Australia  did  not
meet  those  conditions.  The domesticated llamas, turkeys,  and dogs
of America could not pull it off either. Eurasia, on the other  hand,
was  lucky enough to have had the wild animals from which our cows,
sheep,  horses  and  chickens could be bred. This gave the Europeans
huge  advantages,  not only in terms of the development of technology
(e.g. mixed  farming and wheeled transport) but also in providing them
eventually with  immunity against infectious diseases caused by the
proximity of these animals.  When they then established sudden contact
with non-Europeans, the "Plagues and Peoples" effect simply
overwhelmed the unprepared victims.

A  similar  and  perhaps  less  well-known  effect occurred with
respect to domesticable  plants.  Eurasia  was  simply  lucky  in that
its environment provided   a   much   larger  stock  of  plants  that
lent  themselves  to domestication, and plants that had better quality
in terms of the nutrients supplied,  resistance  to disease, ease of
cultivation and so on. Botanical wealth, constrained by the local
flora, determined agriculture, agriculture determined everything else,
says Diamond. Eurasia won because the supply of wild  plants that
provided the gene pool for domesticated crops was larger, richer,  and
better.  If  you feel that this is a bit simplistic, read his chapters
on  "How  to  Make  an  Almond" and "Apples and Indians." It is a
serious,  informed, and well-thought out argument, and if in the end
we are not  wholly convinced, thinking of how to refute Diamond will
make us wiser and better informed.

Diamond's  argument  makes  serious use of counterfactuals, to the
point of wondering  in  the  last chapter what would have happened if
a German truck driver  in  1930 would have hit his brakes a second
later and killed Hitler in  a head-on collision. But in the chapters
on agriculture his imagination abandons  him.  How  much  of  the
performance of non-Europeans was really constrained  by  their
environment  and  how  much  their  own  making? In Diamond's  view,
the answer is "all and nothing." Yet one can imagine crops that   were
manipulated  and  selected  to  produce  crops  that  are  as
unimaginable to us as poodles and sweet corn would have seemed 10,000
years ago.  Take  one example: among the disadvantages that the
indigenous plants of  what  is now the Eastern U.S. suffered from is a
lack of founder crops. Yet  he  does  concede  that  some  of  them on
the surface could have done nicely,  such as a flower named sumpweed,
"a nutritionist's ultimate dream" with 32 percent protein. Sumpweed,
Diamond explains, did not make it to the rank  of corn, potatoes, and
rye because it causes hayfever, does not smell good,  and  handling
it  can cause skin irritation (p. 151). Are we really sure  that these
vices could not have been bred out of them? After all, all
domesticated plants had originally undesirable characteristics, but
through deliberate  and  lucky  selection mechanisms they eventually
got over them. Wheat,  rye,  and maize, which feed much of the world's
population, all had humble  beginnings.  Diamond points out that much
of our ability to improve plants  depended  on  whether  certain
characteristics  were the result of epistatic  effects,  that  is,
caused  by more than one gene. People could select  for  a particular
trait as long as it was caused by one of very few genes;  if  it  was
controlled  by  many  genes,  breeding  specimens that displayed  the
traits  would  be unlikely to fix it in the population. But apart
from  a  few examples, Diamond does not persuade us that this lay at
the heart of the geographically challenged societies.

A  somewhat  similar problem exists with Diamond's view of technology.
In a chapter cleverly named "Necessity's Mother" he notes the many
links between geographical constraints and technical options. Why
would a society produce wheels if it had no horses or oxen to pull
them? Wheelbarrows and rickshaws might  have  been  an  option,  but
maybe draft animals came first. Not all questions  can be answered
that way: some indigenous populations in America might  have built
seaworthy ships, or managed to develop some technology we cannot
imagine  today.  If  they  did  not, is this because they tried but
failed, or because they never tried?

Yet  Diamond  points  out  two  elements  that  suggest  that links
between geography  and  technological  progress  may  be  significant.
One is that geography  constrains  mobility of knowledge. Assume,
somewhat implausibly, that  the idea of a wheelbarrow only occurred to
one person in history, but that  it  spread  to people seeing their
neighbors use. If this happened in Central  Asia,  it  may  well have
reached China, France and Yemen in a few centuries,  but  before  1500
it  would never get to America or Australia. Agricultural  technology,
he notes, also diffuses easier from East to West than  from  North  to
South, as changing longitude has a stronger effect on climate   and
seasonality  than  changing  latitude--  giving  Eurasia  an advantage
over America and Africa. Furthermore, Diamond resurrects the late
Julian  Simon's  argument  that technological success depends on
population density  and  the  ability  of  a  society  to  produce  a
surplus  beyond subsistence,  so  that  there  are  resources
available  for  thinking and experimenting.  Maximum  population
density  was largely a function of the ability  of  the environment to
feed the population. Writing, for instance, required   large   and
dense   settlements   with   complex  hierarchical institutions, much
different from hunting and gathering tribes.
The  notion  that  much economic history is a game against nature, in
which people  form  certain  views  about  its  regularities  and  use
these  to manipulate them to improve material conditions is a powerful
one. Diamond's insight  is  that  nature  differs  from  place  to
place and that certain environments  are  easier to manipulate than
others. The economic historian must  add  two  qualifications  to
this.  One  is that environments can be manipulated  or  abandoned.
While Diamond describes in detail pre-historic population  movements
(which he deduces from linguistic evidence), he does not  realize
that he tells the story of regions, not necessarily of people who
always  had  the  option to move to a more generous and flexible area.
Secondly, it could be argued that much technology emerges precisely
because the  environment is not generous and requires hard work and
ingenuity. What is  the  partial  derivative  of  technological
creativity with respect to initial  geographical  endowment?  In  the
final  analysis,  this is still unknown.

The book is full of other clever arguments about writing, language,
path dependence and so on. It is brimming with wisdom and knowledge,
and it is the kind of knowledge economic historian have always loved
and admired. If you teach economic history, any kind of economic
history, go read this book. Or else you are taking a serious risk that
a clever undergraduate who has read it will ask you a question you
don't know the answer to. Nothing worse is imaginable, short of
organizing a world conference and canceling at the last moment.

Joel Mokyr Departments of Economics and History Northwestern
University
Joel Mokyr is author of _The Lever of Riches: Technological Creativity
and Economic Progress_ (Oxford University Press, 1990).
Copyright (c) 1998 by EH.NET and H-Net.  All rights reserved.  This
work may be copied for non-profit educational uses if proper credit is
given to the author and the list.  For other permission, please
contact the EH.NET Administrator. ([EMAIL PROTECTED], Telephone:
513-529-2850; Fax: 513-529-6992)

============ FOOTER TO EH.RES POSTING ============ For information,
send the message "info EH.RES" to [EMAIL PROTECTED]





_______________________________________________
Crashlist resources: http://website.lineone.net/~resource_base
To change your options or unsubscribe go to:
http://lists.wwpublish.com/mailman/listinfo/crashlist

Reply via email to