Yes, it is an obvious example of convergent evolution that some species of insects domesticate fungi and aphids and have, as a consequence, large populations, ecological dominance, a complex division of labour, and diminished individual autonomy. However, no, these analogous traits do not “provide fruitful insights into the evolution of complex human society” as Gowdy & Krall (G&K) claim they do (see target article Abstract). This statement is puzzling, especially when the authors end their paper (sect. 6, para. 7) with a quote from E. O. Wilson (Reference Wilson2014), the acknowledged expert on insect societies, that we can learn nothing worth imitating from them. G&K conclude nevertheless that these insect societies provide “a mirror” for understanding the problems posed by our own reliance on surplus production. But, as Wilson says a bit later on in the same book, this sort of reasoning, is “a bit of a stretch” (Wilson Reference Wilson2014, p. 100).
The problem with the analogies presented here is that they do nothing more than illustrate the general point that very different organisms may develop more or less similar solutions to the contingencies of life. It is valuable to demonstrate that evolution can be repeatable, but that lesson is of little use in explaining specific evolutionary developments or issues, when the organisms concerned are as fundamentally different as ants, termites, and humans. Comparisons of shared (homologous) and derived characteristics among closely related species would be far more relevant and instructive for understanding the issues at hand.
The target article's treatment of the concept of ultrasociality is particularly unfortunate in this regard. Ultrasociality is certainly a crucial aspect of the evolution of complex human societies, and it is fair to say that it is inconsistently defined. G&K use this ambiguity to adopt a rather a priori definition (one that suits leaf cutter ants) that limits ultrasociality to agricultural societies with a full-time division of labour. Aside from privileging leaf cutter societies, this obviates the possibility of comparing human sociality with that of chimps, and draws an excessive dichotomy between human foragers and agriculturalists. The subsequent, rather simplistic account of the evolution of complex societies recapitulates, but adds nothing new, to the work of anthropologists writing in the 1970s (e.g., the article's citation of Carneiro Reference Carneiro1970). It is clear from that work that the domestication of plants and animals is a necessary but not sufficient cause of the development of stratified state societies. Warfare, itself a complex political process, and environmental factors, are necessary to turn the tribal gardening we still see in parts of the Amazon and New Guinea, accompanied as it is by little social stratification, into the productive basis of states, empires, and the world system. A convincing argument has been made that the entire process of increasing human social scale is driven by the machinations of elites. Their efforts to expand control over people, power, and resources is what leads to transformations of the scale of human society. The development of states and empires is “embedded in the contingencies of culture, nature and history” (Bodley Reference Bodley2003). Surplus production and agriculture is part of that mix (again a necessary but not sufficient condition), not a simple causal variable.
A useful, convincing, and productive discussion of ultrasociality and human evolution has been provided by Tomasello (Reference Tomasello2014). He, interestingly, also discusses insect societies and human cooperation but notes that such comparisons are only “somewhat analogous.” In contrast to the genetic mechanisms at work for insects “human ultrasociality … is based in some special psychological mechanisms” (Tomasello Reference Tomasello2014, p. 187). These were discovered by means of a series of experiments that compared young children and chimps. Presented with a number of tasks that require collaboration to obtain desired food, the chimps responded competitively to establish dominance, whereas the children typically helped each other and divided the food equally even when they were unrelated. This concern with fairness and the development of “shared intentionality” could be ascertained in children as young as nine months of age.
In a further parallel G&K, Tomasello traces the development of shared intentionality in humans to food getting. He opines that our shared intentions, norms, shame, and guilt were an outgrowth of the need for human foragers to hunt and gather in groups. “This conceptual organization is foundational for everything from bi-directional linguistic conventions to social institutions with … publicly created joint goals and individual roles that can be filled by anyone” (Tomasello Reference Tomasello2014, p. 189).
Anthropologists have expended a great deal of time and energy analysing such small-scale societies. One of the few accepted generalisations of social and cultural anthropology is that hunter-gatherers and tribal people use kinship as an organising principle of society. As Chapais (Reference Chapais2008) demonstrates, there is a “deep structure” to human social organisation. Bipedalism, pair bonding, and a sexual division of labour accompanied our species' move to its ecological niche. Bilateral kin recognition, exogamy, paternal recognition, female exchange, affinal relations, links between different local groups, and tribal organization likely developed when we split from our nearest primate relatives (Chapais Reference Chapais2008, pp. 303–308). A product of material conditions – of early human foragers rather than farmers – human ultrasociality is a cause, rather than a result, of the development of complex human society. Let's build on the efforts on scholars such as Bodley, Tomasello, and Chapais, and leave the ants to myrmecologists.
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Yes, it is an obvious example of convergent evolution that some species of insects domesticate fungi and aphids and have, as a consequence, large populations, ecological dominance, a complex division of labour, and diminished individual autonomy. However, no, these analogous traits do not “provide fruitful insights into the evolution of complex human society” as Gowdy & Krall (G&K) claim they do (see target article Abstract). This statement is puzzling, especially when the authors end their paper (sect. 6, para. 7) with a quote from E. O. Wilson (Reference Wilson2014), the acknowledged expert on insect societies, that we can learn nothing worth imitating from them. G&K conclude nevertheless that these insect societies provide “a mirror” for understanding the problems posed by our own reliance on surplus production. But, as Wilson says a bit later on in the same book, this sort of reasoning, is “a bit of a stretch” (Wilson Reference Wilson2014, p. 100).
The problem with the analogies presented here is that they do nothing more than illustrate the general point that very different organisms may develop more or less similar solutions to the contingencies of life. It is valuable to demonstrate that evolution can be repeatable, but that lesson is of little use in explaining specific evolutionary developments or issues, when the organisms concerned are as fundamentally different as ants, termites, and humans. Comparisons of shared (homologous) and derived characteristics among closely related species would be far more relevant and instructive for understanding the issues at hand.
The target article's treatment of the concept of ultrasociality is particularly unfortunate in this regard. Ultrasociality is certainly a crucial aspect of the evolution of complex human societies, and it is fair to say that it is inconsistently defined. G&K use this ambiguity to adopt a rather a priori definition (one that suits leaf cutter ants) that limits ultrasociality to agricultural societies with a full-time division of labour. Aside from privileging leaf cutter societies, this obviates the possibility of comparing human sociality with that of chimps, and draws an excessive dichotomy between human foragers and agriculturalists. The subsequent, rather simplistic account of the evolution of complex societies recapitulates, but adds nothing new, to the work of anthropologists writing in the 1970s (e.g., the article's citation of Carneiro Reference Carneiro1970). It is clear from that work that the domestication of plants and animals is a necessary but not sufficient cause of the development of stratified state societies. Warfare, itself a complex political process, and environmental factors, are necessary to turn the tribal gardening we still see in parts of the Amazon and New Guinea, accompanied as it is by little social stratification, into the productive basis of states, empires, and the world system. A convincing argument has been made that the entire process of increasing human social scale is driven by the machinations of elites. Their efforts to expand control over people, power, and resources is what leads to transformations of the scale of human society. The development of states and empires is “embedded in the contingencies of culture, nature and history” (Bodley Reference Bodley2003). Surplus production and agriculture is part of that mix (again a necessary but not sufficient condition), not a simple causal variable.
A useful, convincing, and productive discussion of ultrasociality and human evolution has been provided by Tomasello (Reference Tomasello2014). He, interestingly, also discusses insect societies and human cooperation but notes that such comparisons are only “somewhat analogous.” In contrast to the genetic mechanisms at work for insects “human ultrasociality … is based in some special psychological mechanisms” (Tomasello Reference Tomasello2014, p. 187). These were discovered by means of a series of experiments that compared young children and chimps. Presented with a number of tasks that require collaboration to obtain desired food, the chimps responded competitively to establish dominance, whereas the children typically helped each other and divided the food equally even when they were unrelated. This concern with fairness and the development of “shared intentionality” could be ascertained in children as young as nine months of age.
In a further parallel G&K, Tomasello traces the development of shared intentionality in humans to food getting. He opines that our shared intentions, norms, shame, and guilt were an outgrowth of the need for human foragers to hunt and gather in groups. “This conceptual organization is foundational for everything from bi-directional linguistic conventions to social institutions with … publicly created joint goals and individual roles that can be filled by anyone” (Tomasello Reference Tomasello2014, p. 189).
Anthropologists have expended a great deal of time and energy analysing such small-scale societies. One of the few accepted generalisations of social and cultural anthropology is that hunter-gatherers and tribal people use kinship as an organising principle of society. As Chapais (Reference Chapais2008) demonstrates, there is a “deep structure” to human social organisation. Bipedalism, pair bonding, and a sexual division of labour accompanied our species' move to its ecological niche. Bilateral kin recognition, exogamy, paternal recognition, female exchange, affinal relations, links between different local groups, and tribal organization likely developed when we split from our nearest primate relatives (Chapais Reference Chapais2008, pp. 303–308). A product of material conditions – of early human foragers rather than farmers – human ultrasociality is a cause, rather than a result, of the development of complex human society. Let's build on the efforts on scholars such as Bodley, Tomasello, and Chapais, and leave the ants to myrmecologists.