Philosophy: I’m parasitic, but so are you.

I’m working on William Mcneill’s book, Plagues and People’s, at the moment, aside from everything else :). It is a fascinating study of humanity reduced purely to micro and macro parasitism. Those tiny organisms feeding on us (malaria, smallpox, influenza) being the micro and us (or other large organisms) feeding on us being the macro. The coherence of the study is stunning: based on simple parasite-host relationship models, Mcneill predicts and presents a wide range of historical events.

His most pointed example (he starts the book with it) is of Cortez’s encounter with the Amerindians. It wasn’t stunning weaponry or supernatural myth or intervention that won over the Amerindians, it was smallpox – which would go on to wipe out up to 90% of the human population in both North and South America, either directly, through infection, or indirectly, through the ensuing social chaos and warfare as societies fell apart.

But he also (more to my interests) discusses the rise of both Christianity and Buddhism. Christianity was little more than a charismatic cult in the Roman Empire until successive plagues swept through in the second and third centuries. The other-worldly promises in contrast with the pagan ‘live life to the fullest’ motto became quite appealing when even the young and healthy were being killed in the scores by devastating illness. Christianity also demands that one takes care of the ill – and while much of their medicine was poor, simply being cared for tends to improve survival rates and those who survived naturally had great affection for the Christians who nursed them.

Buddhism arose in India in the boom-period following the introduction of Iron technology, meaning a great rise in urban population, and ensuing urban disease. With disease outbreaks often came famine, as few had the strength to cultivate fields or to transport produce to the cities. In this climate a wandering holy-man who lived on nearly nothing would certainly gain attention (as many shramanas/renunciates did). Gautama’s teachings, however widespread, did not completely win over the Indian people, mainly because there was constant strife on the continent (even the Mauryan and Gupta reigns were relatively short). Buddhism first became a near-universal state religion in China in much the same way Christianity had in the struggling Roman Empire.

As the Chinese (concentrated in the north on the Yellow River) moved to settle the rich southern plains of the Yangtze river, they encountered severe new diseases (malaria, dengue fever, etc) just as the expanding Romans had and thus suffered a series of debilitating plagues. The other-worldliness of the Buddhist teachings (in contrast to the social-hierarchy-focused Confucian way) were enthusiastically taken up by Chinese. Buddhism held a central place in Chinese society until the plagues subsided and growth and stability allowed the Confucian ideals to re-exert their importance (around 1200 CE).

It is certainly an interesting way of seeing it all. The plagues represent microparasitism which unleashed uncertainty upon a people in a way we have a hard time identifying with today. Though the SARS, AIDS, and Avian Flu scares are reminding us both of recent epidemics that we have faced (1917-18 influenza) and the possibility of another pandemic in the near future. Further, Mcneill argues that macroparasitism (in the form of class subjugation and warfare) has continued on in current times to much the same effect.

I think later in the book (I’m halfway through – to about 1200 CE) he will talk of certain classes of people as parasitic on others: food producers as ‘hosts’ for parasites like me, and most of you. Just like other parasites, we compete for hosts and must be very careful not to put too much strain on the host (i.e. kill it!) such that we may continue on our ways. Could a certain parasite (i.e. a philosopher or religious teacher) actually be beneficial to a host? I suppose maybe only in so far as it protects the host from other parasites (like politicians and cosmetic salespeople :).

It is a bit depressing at times… To think of oneself as a parasite. Here I thought I was doing good, or at least trying to get to the point where I could do good in the world. But no… I have just adapted to a type of parasitic behavior that I can maintain (without having a semi-nervous breakdown as I did back in Business School) and my hosts can maintain (I won’t/can’t demand much from them, after all). So everyone’s happy – like the relationship between chickenpox and us today.