I am quite puzzled – even troubled. I’ve studied history for years, researched cultures, visited buildings and battlefields, toured museums, talked to the Locals in various parts of the world, even participated in some archaeological digs, but I just can’t figure out why history doesn’t always reveal why people did what they did.
Some historical happenings are easy to grasp. Though I hate to consider myself part of the same species that has so notoriously butchered its own kind, even making an industry of it during World War II, I do understand our species’ psycho-history of deranged individuals and mesmerized masses. Such events fall into the category of “detestable but explainable.” The blame lies in those genetic and environmental factors that can engender an incredibly intense level of hatred and emotion in the human mind. The outcomes that ensue are ingenuously insane and irrational. I can comprehend the apparent disdain shown by some of our species for others. I can figure my way through the series of complex cause and effect processes that led to their actions, supplemented by some inherited inclination for one gene to survive at the expense of another. But other happenings haunt me, particularly those massive undertakings by large groups of people using the simplest of tools under the harshest of conditions and requiring mind-boggling logistics.
Take the followers of that wonder boy of early Greek history, Alexander the Great. Let’s first give credit where it is due. Here’s a guy who became king of the Greek states by the time he was twenty some years, and then decided to take on the rest of the world by marching himself and thousands of others across deserts and mountains and traversing seas to reach into the lands that define modern India. Along the way he was fearless, conquering those in his path by force, guile, and reputation. For the most part, he respected the vanquished, treating them much, much better than his modern-day impersonators, even trying to meld their ideologies with the Hellenistic. Though king of Greece he spent little of his ruling years within his native country, dying prematurely in Persia just shy of thirty-third birthday. So, what’s so puzzling? Not Alexander. He had the megalomania virus. But how did he infect so many others? Why did so many follow him for so many years? Once he defeated the Persian nemesis, why continue to follow him? With no mass media in the ancient world, influencing the diverse and physically separate groups to find and conquer new enemies seems an unlikely sell, but somehow it happened. True, some coercion occurred. Then, imagine the logistics of the fourth century preceding Christ and try to appreciate the motivation to sustain the complex military operations involved. Feeding, transporting, and equipping thousands of soldiers, sometimes accompanied by an enormous entourage of civilian men, women, and children, had to be one of the greatest headaches of all time – and for what? To see what lies over the next hill? I can understand Alexander’s drive, but not that of those he led. Yet they followed him freely anyway – for a very long time.
Then there’s the Great Pyramid of Giza, not just any wonder, but a Wonder of the World. When I first gazed upon it, I was in awe, but slowly filled with sorrow as I realized this majestic, man-made mound caused great suffering among those who built it. I could sense the pain and distress of the workforce that toiled to build another man’s deific dream. Why would anyone want to participate in such an immense enterprise spanning two or more decades just so some self-proclaimed man-gods could spend eternity in peace and quiet? And this is what sets the Pyramids apart from a structure as the Great Wall of China. The Wall served the many, the Pyramids the few. Consider the logistics of the day. Picture thousands of animals and indentured individuals investing most of their lifetimes dragging large stones across sand and dirt ramps, lifting the monoliths to heights never before envisioned. These just weren’t slaves and beasts of burden building these icons of human ingenuity; the greater populace also supported the effort. Sure, in today’s world it might be considered job security, but after a few years in the hot desert sun, even today’s most diehard workaholics would likely quit if not outright revolt at the working conditions. And for many an Egyptian citizen of the third millennium preceding Christ, the work was seasonal. At some point, these laborers and artisans had to return to their fields to harvest grains and eventually transport them back to the work sites, and then remain at the construction sites to endure another cycle of sweat and servitude under the sun. Though the obstacles were many, they came back to toil drearily using the most basic of tools; they continued with great precision but without any comprehensible reward. Perhaps they found a purpose, to make a symbolic statement to posterity that humanity can and will endure. Yet whatever the impediments these unknown commoners persisted and prevailed – multiple times – to build such wonders.
And how about those amazing Polynesians who endured one of the severest and most unforgiving environment on earth? What could possibly have motivated them to journey over the great expanses of ocean in meager vessels to reach unknown destinations? When insects and animals migrate, they react to their genetic programming and environmental clues. The first Polynesian explorers, however, had to design and build their means of transport, figure out what to bring, and contemplate their pending tasks – with plenty of opportunity for fear to kick in to abandon their plans. After all, isn’t our genetic programming supposed to protect us? When I consider how the Polynesians settled the Hawaiian Islands, one of the remotest locations on the planet, my brain literally begins to hurt. The logistics are daunting – food, water, exposure, directional bearing – all factors to consider for an undefined mission covering some two thousand miles. Even if they could pull it off once using make-shift yet effective un-instrumented navigational techniques, assuming they knew where they were going, future voyages might not end up so favorable. Would those left behind ever learn of the fate of the explorer-emigrants? I wish I could have one-tenth the amount of luck, skill, and daring as these Pacific Islanders. I cannot picture the small armadas on the day of their departure using sail and sinew to set off on a journey to nowhere. Were they that desperate? As Jared Diamond explains in his book, Collapse – How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed, even the Easter Islanders, who methodically and progressively destroyed their own ecosystem, still managed to survive their own self-inflicted impoverishment without abandoning the lands that once so bountifully sustained them. Yet the Polynesians voyaged on, time and again, surviving the seas, and probably with typical human indifference, adlibbing along the way.
This is why history is so puzzling and troubling to me. The motives, impulses, and rationale for much of what has transpired elude me. Despite all my intellectual and analytical efforts, I just can’t come up with a reasonable explanation for some significant accomplishments by my species. As I said, I understand motivations behind the insane, the religious and political zealots, and the many others intentionally or naturally brainwashed, but not the large masses of the everyday Joe’s and Josephine’s of the world. Perhaps I have so much difficulty understanding the past because I’m immersed in its study and not sufficiently involved in the present to create the history of tomorrow. But why bother? Aren’t most of us just blundering bystanders as history unravels before us? Some of us would like to think we are elaborately entangled in the making of history by what we do and who we know. But how can anyone truly recognize how one’s actions will influencing the future? Did Alexander’s armies and advocates advance to the edge of their known world to make history and cross-pollinate European and Asian cultures? Did the builders of the Great Pyramids intentionally endure the anguish and agony of the desert just to find a nameless place in a footnote as constructors extraordinaire? And did the seafaring Polynesians understand their sheer brilliance and bravery in spreading the seed of humanity to distant shores.
If I were to make a guess about “why” things turned out the way they did, I could only come up with two words: human spirit. Humans seem selectively programmed to call upon that spirit, not only to subdue their surroundings, but also to attain sheer supremacy over it. Unlike the birds and the bees and our closer evolutionary relatives, it’s not just about survival. It’s about total dominance. Only by controlling every aspect of their environment do humans believe they can guarantee their DNA will endure. So, humans, even the not so bold and courageous, extend themselves far beyond the boundaries they call home to challenge others like them; or endure lifelong hardships to erect shrines for future generations, or take to the open oceans to find that needle of land in that haystack of water – all done unwittingly to prolong a genetic code. But, of course, I’m just guessing. I really don’t have a clue.
Maybe I’ll wake up some day, and it’ll just come to me – the why’s behind some special yet mysterious happenings of history. But for now, I remain puzzled – and troubled.
