Autumn: Hey everyone, welcome back! So, here's something to get us thinking: when you really boil it down, do you think people are inherently selfish, or are we actually born to be kind? Rachel: That's a big question, Autumn. I mean, part of me wants to believe in the good in people, but then you look around, and it feels like the loudest, meanest voices always win, doesn't it? Autumn: That’s exactly why I'm so excited about today’s topic. We’re diving into Rutger Bregman’s brilliant book, “Humankind: A Hopeful History.” It basically flips that whole “humans are inherently selfish” narrative on its head. Rachel: Oh, really? And how does it do that, exactly? With, like, sunshine and utopian dreams? Autumn: Not at all. Bregman makes his case with solid evidence—history, psychology, even stories of disasters where people came together instead of falling apart. His argument is, yeah, we can be cruel, but deep down, we're actually wired for things like empathy, cooperation, and trust. Rachel: So, he’s saying all this doom and gloom we've been hearing our whole lives is… wrong? Like, fundamentally? Autumn: That’s the gist of it. In this episode, we're going to explore three key aspects of his argument. First, we'll look at the evidence that suggests humans are biologically predisposed to kindness, even in really tough situations. Rachel: Alright, you've got my attention. What's next on the agenda? Autumn: Second, we'll talk about how our natural decency has been pushed aside by societal structures—you know, systems that reward selfishness and play on our fears. Rachel: So, if kindness is our default setting, did society come along and install some kind of greed app? Autumn: Exactly! And finally, we're going to look at some real-world examples of communities and systems that show a kinder society isn't just a nice idea; it's actually happening in places. Rachel: Okay, from human evolution to modern-day examples of hope – sounds like a pretty comprehensive journey we're embarking on. Autumn: It really is. So, let's get started. “Humankind” is full of ideas that could totally change the way we see ourselves, and each other.

Autumn: Okay, let's dive into Bregman's core idea: this radical notion that humans are inherently good. He directly challenges Hobbes’ famous argument, you know, the one that says without societal rules, we'd all be fighting each other for survival. Rachel: Ah, yes, the classic "state of nature." Life would be, if I remember correctly, "nasty, brutish, and short." A real picnic. Autumn: Exactly! Hobbes believed that, left to our own devices, humans would become selfish and violent. Governments and laws, for him, were the only things preventing total chaos. A pretty grim outlook, right? But Bregman flips the script. He says history and psychology actually point to the opposite. Rachel: Wait a minute—so, you're saying all that predicted chaos just... doesn't happen? People would just hold hands and sing in a free-for-all? Autumn: Well, not exactly a "kumbaya" moment, Rachel, <laughs> but the basic idea is that humans have this innate tendency to connect and cooperate, especially in crises. He uses the Blitz during World War II as a prime example. Rachel: The Blitz, huh? When London was getting bombed night after night? My guess is people didn't just sit around waiting for the worst. Autumn: Exactly! Military leaders and psychologists fully expected mass panic. They thought civilians would riot, loot, even completely fall apart under the constant bombing. But what actually happened? Londoners showed incredible resilience and camaraderie. Rachel: Camaraderie? While bombs were dropping? Autumn: Yep! A psychiatrist named Dr. John MacCurdy, who studied this period, saw Londoners literally drinking tea amid the rubble, reopening shops, and helping their neighbors dig out of destroyed homes. Rachel: Tea amid destruction? That's the most British form of defiance I can possibly imagine. Autumn: <Laughing> It really is, isn't it? But, more importantly, it goes against this idea that people in crisis automatically become selfish and chaotic. Instead, they pulled together – helping each other, keeping life as normal as possible, and just refusing to break. Rachel: So, no chaos. Interesting. But was this a one-off? The Blitz is just one event, you know? Maybe Londoners were just uniquely tough? Autumn: Great question! And the answer is no, this isn't just a "Blitz phenomenon." Bregman shows that similar patterns of cooperation pop up across different disasters. Like after 9/11, you had tons of people helping strangers escape the towers, completely contradicting the "every person for themselves" narrative we often hear. Rachel: Hmm. Okay, that's... compelling. But putting disasters aside, what happens when people are stripped of all societal structure for extended periods—months, years? Then surely the selfish Hobbesian inner self comes roaring out, right? Autumn: Funny you ask! Because Bregman tackles this, too, with one of his most fascinating examples: the real-life Lord of the Flies. Rachel: Okay, this I have to hear. Autumn: You know Golding's novel, right? A group of boys stranded on an island descend into violent tribalism and chaos? It’s become this cultural metaphor for our “savage” nature. Bregman asks, what if that's just fiction? Rachel: Wait—are you saying Lord of the Flies doesn’t actually reflect some deep, fundamental truth about humanity? Autumn: Exactly. There's a real-world version of the story that completely disproves it. Back in the '60s, six Tongan boys were shipwrecked on a desert island for over a year. Instead of becoming savages, they worked together to survive. Rachel: Fascinating. So, did they form a little island democracy or something? Autumn: Pretty close! They created a system of governance, divided chores, and took care of one another. When one boy broke his leg, the others set it and nursed him back to health. They even built a working garden and managed to keep a steady supply of food. Rachel: So, while Golding’s boys are busy playing war games, the Tongan kids are basically running their own little cooperative utopia. Autumn: Exactly! This is one of Bregman’s strongest arguments against Hobbesian thinking. These boys didn’t need laws or adult supervision to treat each other decently. Rachel: And Golding probably hated to hear that. His book isn’t exactly known for its optimism, is it? Autumn: Not in the slightest. Golding believed in humanity’s darker instincts. He once said his novel was a way to "talk about the darkness of man’s heart." Bregman says this pessimism has become such a cultural lens that we just ignore contradictory evidence. Rachel: So, we're stuck with this disaster narrative because it's more dramatic? Autumn: Partly, yes! Doom and gloom sells, which is why the media and fiction highlight conflict and chaos, not the quieter, but equally important stories of cooperation. Rachel: Alright, Autumn, I'm starting to see the angle here. The Blitz shows us resilience in chaos, the Tongan boys prove decency sans laws. Maybe the real question isn't whether humans are good, but why society keeps underestimating that goodness. Autumn: Bingo! And Bregman doesn't stop there. He critiques systems built on distrust of human nature, like governments that focus disaster planning on preventing panic, even though panic is actually rare. Rachel: So, the takeaway here isn’t just "humans are good,” it's that our policies and systems need to reflect that goodness, not suppress it? Autumn: Precisely! Bregman’s message isn't naïve. It's that if we rethink human nature, we can create institutions built on trust and cooperation, not fear and cynicism. And he uses these stories as a foundation for understanding how societal structures – think prisons, schools, and workplaces – have been designed based on the wrong assumptions, which we'll dig into later. Rachel: Alright, Autumn, I'm intrigued. You've given me two solid examples that challenge my inner cynic. Should we keep going and see where this idea leads us? Autumn: Definitely. There's so much more to explore in Bregman's work, and trust me, the best is yet to come.

Autumn: Okay, Rachel, so if humans are inherently cooperative, how did we end up with so much inequality and conflict? Rachel: Exactly! I mean, if hunter-gatherers were this cooperative utopia, what went wrong? What flipped the switch? Autumn: That's the million-dollar question, right? Well, Bregman really digs into one of the biggest turning points in human history, the shift from nomadic hunter-gatherer lifestyles to settled agricultural ones. It was a huge step forward, of course, but also with some major unintended consequences. Rachel: Unintended consequences, huh? You mean like, did farming turn us into, well, less nice people? Autumn: In a way, yeah, that's part of it! Hunter-gatherers lived in small, mobile groups built on equality and sharing, mainly because accumulating stuff just wasn't practical when you were always on the move, right? Everyone needed to work together to survive, and there weren't really any social hierarchies to speak of. Decisions were made together, and disputes were usually resolved through talking things out, not fighting. Rachel: Alright, so it was, “all for one, and one for all." I get it. Autumn: Pretty much! Anthropologists have studied modern hunter-gatherer societies like the Aché in Paraguay and the Hadza in Tanzania and found that these groups really emphasize cooperation, trust, and a sense of fairness. I mean, if someone had a successful hunt, the meat was shared with the whole group. Hoarding wasn’t just frowned upon; it was practically impossible. Rachel: Okay, that makes sense when you're living that kind of lifestyle. But then agriculture comes along, and suddenly people want to start stockpiling grain in silos, right? Autumn: Spot on! When people started farming, two big changes happened: the idea of owning property and being able to create surplus resources. And that’s where inequality began to creep in. People who controlled more land or food naturally started accumulating more wealth, and, well, once you have inequality, you get competition. Rachel: So, let me guess – competition leads to power grabs, and power grabs lead to, well, conflict? Autumn: Bingo. Also, because communities were now settled in one place, they became more protective of their land and resources. This led to social hierarchies, where the people at the top held all the power, and others were, unfortunately, exploited to keep those systems going. Even violence became more organized. Hunter-gatherers usually avoided conflicts by simply moving away. But once you’re tied to the land, you can’t just walk away from your problems. Rachel: So this all comes back to war, then, doesn't it? You're basically describing how society booted up the system for large-scale violence. Autumn: That's certainly a big part of it. Bregman also mentions research by anthropologist Douglas Fry, who studied violence in tribal societies. He found that a lot of the violence we often associate with indigenous groups was actually caused by external pressures, not internal disputes. Think colonization or slave raids for example. Rachel: Colonization, huh? So, the “civilized” Europeans show up, and suddenly the so-called “savages” start fighting for survival. Autumn: Exactly. Fry looked at tribes like the Hiwi and Aché. Their violence wasn’t because there that's just they are, but more as reactions to outside threats like colonial invaders or slave traders. Again, it’s external forces, usually tied to unequal systems, that spark the violence, not inherently human nature. Rachel: Alright, but let’s rewind a bit. Are we saying agriculture was this kind of Pandora’s Box situation? I mean, sure, it brought inequality, but it also gave us cities, art, and, I don’t know, pizza. Autumn: Well, Bregman isn’t arguing that agriculture was all bad, no – it was a pivotal moment in human evolution, for good and ill. His point is that the societal structures that came after the agricultural revolution often distorted our natural cooperative instincts instead of reinforcing them. Inequality, competition, and distrust weren’t inevitable results of progress. They were the result of specific choices and systems that we created. Rachel: Ah, so civilization didn’t ruin us, it just took us down a very unique path. It was a fork in the road. Autumn: Exactly! And this brings us to a fascinating case that Bregman revisits: Easter Island. Rachel: Oh, here we go—the infamous cautionary tale, right? What's the deal with the story of the Rapa Nui people destroying all of their resources? Autumn: Well, the popular version, told by Jared Diamond in Collapse, is that the Rapa Nui overexploited their resources, cutting down all their trees to move those stone statues, leading to ecological devastation and societal collapse. It's often used as a metaphor for human greed and short-sightedness. Rachel: Right, it's the poster child for, “If you aren't careful, you'll eat yourself out of house and home.” So they are a cautionary tale. Autumn: Exactly, but Bregman challenges that narrative. He highlights the research of environmental biologist Jan Boersema, who argues that the Rapa Nui story isn’t one of failure, but actually of resilience. Rachel: Resilience? How do you decimate all your trees and then bounce back from that? Autumn: Well, for starters, Boersema looked at the diary of Jacob Roggeveen, the Dutch explorer who first visited Easter Island in 1722. Far from finding a society in collapse, Roggeveen described the people as healthy, hospitable, and resourceful. There were no signs of famine, chaos, or, frankly, environmental ruin. Rachel: Wait a minute...so, this ecological disaster hadn’t even happened yet when the Europeans first showed up? Autumn: Exactly! And further research has shown that the Rapa Nui were incredibly adaptable. When they lost their bigger trees, they developed new agricultural techniques to farm on the rocky soil. They laid down stones to protect their crops from the wind while retaining moisture. Sustainable solutions to living in a tough environment. Rachel: So, instead of trashing their home, they adapted and survived. That's a pretty big revision of the story. Autumn: It is! And here's the kicker: the real disaster for the Rapa Nui came with European contact. There were violent clashes, Roggeveen's crew killed several islanders right away, and then disease and slave raids decimated the population. Rachel: So, this so-called "collapse" wasn’t ecological at all…but colonial. Autumn: Precisely. By reframing the story, Bregman turns Easter Island into a lesson about how external pressures can disrupt systems of cooperation, rather than a lesson about human greed or failure. Rachel: Wow, Autumn, I have to admit that’s a powerful shift in perspective. It’s not about humans being doomed to self-destruct, but about how external systems and pressures can throw us off course. Autumn: Exactly! it really ties back to what we’ve been talking about. Civilization changed how we live and interact, but that doesn’t mean we’ve lost our core nature to cooperate and adapt. The challenge now is creating or designing systems that can bring out the best in us, rather than the worst. Rachel: Right, I see where you’re going. Civilization didn’t necessarily kill our kindness, but it just shuffled the deck. Alright, so what’s the next card in Bregman’s hand?

Autumn: Exactly how historical shifts towards conflict highlight the importance of reintegrating lost cooperative values today Look, it's one thing to say humans are wired for cooperation, right? But it’s another to actually design systems that encourage empathy and trust, instead of, you know, just squashing them That’s where Bregman kills it, I think He doesn’t just theorize—he gives us real-world applications of hope. Rachel: "Applications," huh? Okay, so no more feel-good fluff Are we finally going to see concrete examples of how this whole "humans are fundamentally good" thing actually…works in practice? Autumn: Definitely Bregman highlights two key areas showing how systematic changes and individual actions can transform behavior Let's start with the boldest one: Norway's prison system. Rachel: Oh, right! Norway, the country where their "prisons" look like some kind of posh summer camp While the rest of the world is busy building bigger cages, they’re practically handing prisoners the keys to their rooms, right? Autumn: Basically The real kicker is that Norway’s system is all about empathy and rehabilitation, not just locking people away and punishing them Take Halden Prison, for example It's nothing like those overcrowded, violent places you see in, say, the U.S. Rachel: So, Halden…what's the deal? I've heard rumors of private rooms, even recording studios Is this jail or some kind of lavish college dorm? Autumn: It's intentional Halden gives each prisoner their own private room with a bathroom, heated floors, and a big window The idea is to treat them like people, not monsters And they share meals with the guards, and they all work together, and they form respectful relationships. Rachel: Okay, but how does this… pampering help anyone? Doesn’t it just let criminals get away with their crimes? Autumn: That's the myth Bregman wants to destroy It's not about coddling; it’s about reshaping how we think about justice That, the goal isn’t to punish people, but to help them become functional, caring members of society, you know, when they get out Get this – in Norway, about 20% of inmates reoffend within two years In the U.S.? It’s closer to 60%. Rachel: Wow, that's... massive So, what's actually happening in these prisons? Autumn: Two things First, Halden fosters dignity Inmates, feeling respected, rebuild their sense of self and responsibility And second, they get real tools: job training, education, and chances to practice living as part of a community. Rachel: So, treat inmates like human beings, and they're less likely to act like criminals? Revolutionary! Autumn: I know, right? It sounds too good to be true, but that’s Bregman’s point! If you trust people to change, you can actually help them change Plus, it’s way more cost-effective Fewer repeat offenders means fewer taxpayer dollars spent on prisons. Rachel: Well, that's going to make it hard to argue that punishment works But hold on—before I fully surrender to this vision of Scandinavian paradise, let's talk about scale Could this empathetic system scale to a country like the U.S., with its massive prison population? Autumn: That's fair Bregman knows scaling empathy-based systems is hard, yet if we want lasting change, we have to It starts with rethinking the basics - like decriminalizing minor offenses, focusing on rehab over retribution, and, yeah, changing how we talk about offenders in the first place. Rachel: Ah, changing narratives…it’s about repairing trust between offenders and society too, not just fixing the prisons. Autumn: Exactly Rehabilitation works when we remember no one is just their worst mistake In the end, a fairer system benefits everyone involved. Rachel: Okay, fine, the Halden system is compelling But what about, like, the rest of us? I mean, is Bregman just handing us big system-level fixes when I just want to know how I can use this “hope” thing day to day? Autumn: Ah! Glad you brought that up That’s where Bregman's example of non-complementary behavior comes in It’s about countering hostility with kindness There's a story in the book that shows that breakdown perfectly. Rachel: Alright, I'm listening. Autumn: Picture this: Julio, a diner owner, faces a would-be robber with a gun Instead of panicking or fighting, Julio… stays calm and starts talking to the guy Offers him a meal instead of his wallet. Rachel: Wait, what? The guy’s holding a gun, and Julio's like, “Hey, how about dinner?” Autumn: Exactly He asks questions, treats him like a person, and defuses the tension completely By the end, the robber actually gives back Julio's wallet Kindness alone! Rachel: Wow So, the guy came in armed and left… full? Autumn: Pretty much! That's non-complementary behavior It disarms aggression because it's unexpected People expect conflict, but if they get compassion, they have to stop and think, "Wait, maybe I don't need to do this." Rachel: Okay, sounds great in theory But, come on, couldn’t Julio’s compassion have backfired big time? Autumn: Sure, there's risk, but Bregman’s point is that acts of trust inspire trust Julio’s kindness wasn’t just luck; it changed their expectations. Rachel: So, little trust moments – like that meal – can have ripple effects That’s… surprisingly meaningful for something so minor. Autumn: Yeah Bregman believes these small, everyday acts of empathy reshape our relationships and communities Hope doesn’t have to be grandiose Sometimes, it's enough to assume the best in someone and act accordingly. Rachel: Alright, Autumn Norwegian prisons and diner redemption stories… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might be selling me on this hope thing So, what's next?

Autumn: Okay, Rachel, time to wrap things up. We've really covered a lot of ground today, haven't we? From questioning the whole pessimistic view of human nature to seeing how hope and trust can actually reshape society. Bregman really does show us, time and again, that people are generally more cooperative, resilient, and kind than we often give them credit for. Rachel: Absolutely. I mean, from the Blitz in London to those Tongan boys on Ata, these stories “really” challenge that tired narrative that we're all inherently selfish. It turns out, when things get tough, people don't just descend into chaos. They often rise to the occasion with kindness, don’t they? Autumn: Exactly! And we also talked about how civilization, especially the shift to agriculture and, you know, hierarchical systems, kind of disrupted that natural decency. But that doesn't mean we're doomed. Bregman's examples, like Norway's prisons, or Julio's acts of kindness, prove that when systems, or even individuals, choose trust over fear, real transformation can happen. It’s about creating an environment for people to demonstrate their better nature. Rachel: So, the big takeaway here seems to be pretty clear: maybe the real problem isn't human nature itself, but rather the stories we keep telling about it. If we assume the worst, we’re just going to build a world based on cynicism. But if we start to believe in our capacity for good, we might just create a society that actually reflects that. But where do we start? I mean, this kind of thinking is pretty radical. Autumn: Well, that's where it gets interesting, right? Maybe that's Bregman's challenge to all of us: to actively start treating people as if they are inherently good. When we do that, we create the conditions where kindness and cooperation can flourish. It's not just about those fleeting moments, but about how we structure our communities, our systems, and even our own lives. Rachel: You've given me a lot to consider there, Autumn. I'm going to say I'm about…80% convinced that humans are basically decent. I mean, the evidence is compelling. Autumn: Only 80? Come on, Rachel, we're making progress here! Rachel: Let's just call it cautious optimism, shall we? I need to see it to believe it. So, how would someone apply this to modern urban life? Autumn: Fair enough! Now think about it from a community perspective. How would we design public spaces that foster trust and interaction, rather than suspicion? Rachel: Okay, fair point. Autumn: Exactly, and to our listeners—what about you? What would change in your life if you started believing, just a little bit more, in the goodness of the people around you? Rachel: That’s definitely food for thought. And hey, maybe next time, I will bring tea to my neighbor. You know, just in case. Autumn: That's the spirit! Thanks for tuning in, everyone. Remember: hope isn't just a feeling; it's a choice we make every day. We'll see you next time! Rachel: See you, folks. Stay hopeful...or at least cautiously optimistic!