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Risky business The threats we face have changed over time, rendering our instincts outdated most of these people never having to encounter them in their daily lives. Monkeys seem to share our fear, Croston points out. Wild monkeys will cower at the sight of snakes, and though lab-raised monkeys don’t the first time they see one, if they see how their wild counterparts react, they will be scared the next time round. Fear of snakes seems to run deep: labraised monkeys cannot be taught fear of just anything in this way. For more likely dangers in modern life, such as the threat of a heart attack, people are often relatively nonplussed. Despite compelling statistics, we find it hard to take risks seriously when they seem distant. Croston argues that this is because our ancestors needed to make snap decisions in
The Real Story of Risk: Adventures in a hazardous world by Glenn Croston, Prometheus, £16.99/$19
WHEN I see a spider in my home I freeze with fear, despite knowing rationally that a house spider in the UK poses little threat. Yet at the same time I am perfectly happy to put my life in the hands of strangers by accepting a ride in a car or bus, travel to the other side of the world on my own, and drink more than the recommended limit of alcohol on a regular basis. My approach to risk may seem unbalanced, but I am not alone. In fact, given that humans face constant risks in their day-to-day lives, we are incredibly good at misjudging them. Why is that? In The Real Story of Risk, biologist Glenn Croston provides a plausible explanation. Taking the classical evolutionary approach, he argues that being able to calculate risk and take appropriate action was key to our survival as early humans. But today the risks we face have changed much more than we have. In other words, we simply haven’t yet evolved to deal with them. Back then we faced threats from predators or seasonal food shortages; today it’s cars, cancer and heart disease. This disparity can explain all manner of common misjudgements, Croston says. Take the irrational fear of animals like snakes (or in my case, spiders). In a poll, 56 per cent of North American adults listed snakes as one of their greatest fears, despite
G K & Vikki Hart/getty
Reviewed by Catherine de Lange
an environment of immediate threats; they didn’t need to play the long game as we do today. From the credit crunch to climate-change denial, our fear of flying to our inability to understand statistics, Croston tackles each subject with pace and an entertaining style. Even if some of his evidence feels a little spurious or forced, such as the assertion that ancient cave paintings may represent an attempt by early humans to regain control of their world, more often he uses fascinating stories and studies that firmly back up his points. Armed with this knowledge of how we fail to deal with risks today, Croston goes on to suggest ways we can better assess risks, or, at times, simply accept our failures. After all, he concludes, to avoid risk altogether would mean missing out on some of the best parts of life – truly the greatest risk of all. n Though many of us never encounter snakes in daily life, the fear persists
Callous but capable The Wisdom of Psychopaths by Kevin Dutton, William Heinemann/Farrar, Straus & Giroux, £12.99/$26 Reviewed by Alison George
MANIPULATIVE, callous, narcissistic and often found in prison. There seem to be few upsides to being a psychopath. Yet in The Wisdom of Psychopaths Kevin Dutton, a psychologist at the University of Cambridge, makes the case that this personality disorder can be beneficial, or even desirable. First, he says, we have to ditch the false notion that all psychopaths are destined to become serial killers. He also argues that while traits of fearlessness and impulsivity might lead a psychopath to become an arsonist, say, this mindset might equally lead them to make a heroic rescue from a burning building – or help them to scale the corporate ladder. Dutton certainly did his research: sharing a whisky with the grandfather of psychopathy diagnosis, Robert Hare, discussing violence with Steven Pinker and visiting psychopaths in secure facilities, as well as key figures in the field. He also underwent transcranial magnetic stimulation to supposedly turn himself into a psychopath (albeit for 15 minutes), becoming emotionally cold when viewing violent and grotesque images. Leaving no stone unturned to back up his argument, Dutton even makes the case that the disconnected psychopathic mind has much in common with the detached mindset achieved through Buddhist meditation. It is just a pity that his thorough research is undermined by his tendency to so liberally bandy around the term “psychopath”. His usage seems overly broad and rather put me off an otherwise illuminating book. n 20 October 2012 | NewScientist | 49