By George Will
Saturday, December 26, 2015
Presidential campaigns inflate expectations that power
wielded from government’s pinnacle will invigorate the nation. Thus campaigns
demonstrate that creationists threaten the creative ferment that produces
social improvement. Not religious creationists, who are mistaken but
inconsequential. It is secular creationists whose social costs are steep.
“Secular theists” — economist Don Boudreaux’s term —
produce governments gripped by the fatal conceit that they are wiser than
society’s spontaneous experimental order. Such governments’ imposed order
suffocates improvisation and innovation. Like religious creationists gazing
upon biological complexity, secular theists assume that social complexity
requires an intentional design imposed from on high by wise designers, aka
them.
In The Evolution of
Everything: How New Ideas Emerge, Matt Ridley refutes the secular
creationists’ fallacious idea that because social complexity is the result of
human actions, it must, or should, be the result of human design. In fact,
Ridley says, “Far more than we like to admit, the world is to a remarkable
extent a self-organizing, self-changing place.”
What explains the reluctance to admit this? Perhaps the
human mind evolved to seek a Designer behind designs. (“On the ceiling of the
Sistine Chapel,” Ridley says, “Adam and God touch fingers. To the uneducated
eye it is not clear who is creating whom.”) Or perhaps people feel anxious if
no one is in charge. Ridley’s point is that everyone
is in charge of social change. It is propelled by what Friedrich Hayek, echoing
Darwin, called “selection by imitation of successful institutions and habits.”
This is a broad-based, bottom-up process by which society, like Darwinian
nature, is constantly experimenting.
Morality evolves: Religious and other moral instructors
base their moral codes on the way people who are considered moral behave,
people who are deemed moral because they exemplify rules conducive to human
flourishing. Legal systems evolve: The common-law basis of the system under
which Americans live had no inspired law-giver; it emerged from centuries of
the Anglosphere’s trial and error.
Describing the way living cells respond to local effects,
Ridley, an evolutionary biologist, writes: “It is as if an entire city emerged
from chaos just because people responded to local incentives in the way they
set up their homes and businesses. (Oh, hang on — that is how cities emerged
too.)”
Similarly, no committee or other command-and-control
system decreed the rules of the world’s languages. Darwin: “The formation of
different languages, and of distinct species, and the proofs that both have
been developed through a gradual process, are curiously parallel.” Ridley: “It
is as if a human language, with all its syntax and grammar, were to emerge
spontaneously from the actions of its individual speakers, with nobody laying
down the rules. (Oh, hang on . . . )”
In 1908, a French philosopher applied Darwinian reasoning
to the evolution of fishing boats: “It is clear that a very badly made boat
will end up at the bottom after one or two voyages and thus never be copied. .
. . It is the sea herself who fashions the boats, choosing those which function
and destroying the others.”
Ridley applies to everything
the perspective of Leonard E. Read’s famous 1958 essay “I, Pencil.” In it a
pencil explains that “I am a mystery” because not a single person knows how to
make me. The seemingly simple pencil is wood harvested by loggers using saws
and ropes made elsewhere, wood transported by trucks and trains made by many
thousands of people, to mills where machines — the products of ore mined by
thousands and steel mills staffed by thousands more — prepare the wood to
receive graphite mined abroad and the eraser from foreign rubber, held in place
by aluminum mined somewhere and smelted somewhere else, before lacquer (castor
beans and other ingredients) is applied, and . . .
Behind a pencil stand millions of cooperating people, but
no mastermind. Which is why worshipers in the church of government, the source
of top-down authority, disparage a free society’s genius for spontaneous order:
It limits the importance of government and other supposed possessors of the
expertise that supposedly is essential for imposing order from above.
No one, writes Ridley, anticipated that when Gutenberg
made printed books affordable, increased literacy would create a market for
spectacles, which would lead to improved lenses and the invention of
telescopes, which would produce the discovery that the Earth orbits the sun. No
one planned that one particular book’s argument for the fecundity of freedom
would bolster the case for limited government the way Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations did when published
in 1776.
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