This is part of a series of posts representing ideas from the book, Ishmael, by Daniel Quinn. I view the ideas explored in Ishmael to be so important to the world that it seems everyone should have a chance to be exposed. I hope this treatment inspires you to read the original.
In Chapter TWELVE, Alan uncovers the Leaver Premise and wraps up discussions with Ishmael about what it means and where we go from here. This chapter is presented in 12 numbered subsections, beginning on page 231 of the original printing and page 249 of the 25th anniversary printing. The sections below mirror this arrangement in the book. See the launch post for notes on conventions I have adopted for this series.
1. Can Money Fix It?
Alan decides to find the carnival owner to see if he can negotiate buying Ishmael. Art Owens is described as a quick-witted fellow who one wouldn’t be surprised to learn had a forsaken Ivy League law degree tucked away somewhere.
Art humors Alan’s pitch, only expressing genuine interest when Alan shares the knowledge that Ishmael has been here since the thirties. Otherwise, he engages in some haggling over price that felt a bit pro-forma, without appearing to have any real intention of selling Ishmael.
2. Emotional Maturity
When Alan returned to Ishmael after the Friday night crowds dissipated, he found Ishmael asleep in his blankets. In our first exhibition of emotional (im)maturity, Alan rouses Ishmael as a pointed demonstration that life in a carnival cage really sucks.
Ishmael’s slow boot-up sequence involved yawns, sneezes, and productive throat-clearing—ending with a “malevolent glare” and a brush-off to return tomorrow.
When Alan pointed out that tomorrow was Saturday, and thus hopeless in terms of crowds, Ishmael gives us the second exhibition of emotional maturity. He accepted the reality, rearranged himself and his blankets, fixing Alan in “a look of loathing.”
They established that the last lesson ended in describing Takers and Leavers as “Those who [think they] know good and evil and those who live in the hands of the gods.”
3. End of Creation
Ishmael starts by asking “What happens to people who live in the hands of the gods?” Further clarifying, this is something that does not happen to Takers. The question is connected to the unanswered question from the previous chapter: how did humans become human?
The answer to both, laboriously worked out by Alan, is that they continue to evolve. Humans became humans “by living in the hands of the gods.” Once Takers assume the role of gods, they take themselves out of an ecological context where evolution brews. Only by staying engaged in the community of life’s [collaborative] competition does one benefit from the process of natural selection, while also remaining protected by it. [Human brains appear, on average, to be smaller now than they were 10,000 years ago; modernity’s fixes often circumvent the pressures that keep a species healthy and viable against entropic degradation of genetics.]
In the beginning of this journey, we defined a culture as enacting a story so-as to make it come true. Isn’t it interesting that the Taker story has humans representing the end of creation, and by enacting the story we have indeed eliminated most of the selective pressures that lead to evolution? Takers are “doing a damned good job” of making sure that creation ends with humans. Not only have we interrupted our own creation/improvement, we are threatening all of creation with a sixth mass extinction. [The creation will resume once this illness is purged. With luck, humans will be among the survivors, but modernity surely will not be.]
4. The Leaver Premise
Ishmael informs Alan that he should now be prepared to work out the premise to the story Leavers enact. Alan is doubtful, but starts by recalling the Taker premise: that “the world belongs to man.” With a laugh of sudden insight, Alan recognizes that the Leaver story is a simple inversion:
It’s almost too neat. The premise of the Leaver story is man belongs to the world.
Pressed to expand on the meaning, Alan laughs again. “It’s really too much.” He elaborates:
…right from the beginning, everything that ever lived belonged to the world—and that’s how things came to be this way.
Only by belonging to the world and living in the hands of the gods did we get to be humans. [This process might even be called sacred] For millions of years, Leavers lived as if they belonged to the world, which worked very well for them and was reasonably tolerated by the community of life as a whole.
5. World Without End?
The Taker premise leads to disaster and the end of “creation.” Following the Leaver premise, “creation goes on forever.”
6. Lofty Legacy?
Alan then begins to spin out speculation about destiny, and even gets Ishmael to agree that evolution is expressing a clear tendency “toward self-awareness and intelligence.” [This strikes me as anthropocentric: tell that to the vast majority of ongoing successful evolutionary lines that don’t care to dabble in such domains.] This trend becomes Alan’s focus as to what it’s all about: divine intentions.
Under this framing, Alan excitedly defines a possible human destiny as trailblazers of consciousness, showing other species how to do it and avoid making the mistakes we recognized just in time to correct [wishfully]. In short, it’s a way to exalt humans as the pioneers of consciousness—to be revered by all those conscious raccoons and rats that finally “arrived” in this glorious land, ever-praising the human trailblazers. [I’m not hiding very well my disdain for this resurrection of supremacist rhetoric.]
Nonetheless, Alan does make a strong point that people need inspiration. They need attraction; not just repulsion. Enumerating all the reprehensible actions we enact in modernity leaves us feeling quite “stupid and guilty,” and is insufficient motivation to make substantive change. We need a vision to inspire and attract us to a new lifestyle.
7. Civilizational Compatibility?
Noting that every alien civilization imagined in, say, Star Trek is recognizably Taker-like [Avatar stands out as an exception], Alan wonders if civilization is inherently incompatible with belonging to the world.
Ishmael points out that the Leaver cultures of North America were experimenting with various forms of civilization—repeatedly abandoned—and that perhaps something might have succeeded in 10,000 more years.
Of primary importance is whether a civilization can respect the Law of Life: the peace-keeping law. Can they make room for the rest of the community of life to coexist? Are they capable of accepting limits and their fair share of short-end-of-the-stick dealings from the gods?
It is not clear that civilization is fundamentally incompatible with the Law of Life, but “it’s subject to the law.” Crime does not pay. To live as an outlaw is to live on borrowed time. The mindset of how one relates to the community of life turns out to be crucial.
[The title (and content) of a later book by Quinn: Beyond Civilization indicates that he moved on from sensing that the goal is to craft a civilization that works.]
8. Soviet Collapse
Given that Ishmael was published in 1992, the rapid and surprising fall of the Soviet regime that had dominated geopolitics for over four decades was fresh on Daniel Quinn’s mind. He used this event to illustrate that the “unthinkable” can become reality in short order. Just because a situation has persisted for one’s lifetime (or even many) does not commit it to being everlasting. Rapid change is possible.
9. Leaver Lessons and Limitations
Referring to the original ad in the paper, Alan asks for a prescription, or “program” to save the world.
Step one: stop exterminating Leavers! Jesus, people! Leavers are crucial to our survival as a species because they retain core wisdoms that Takers have stupidly discarded. The diversity of successful Leaver cultures demonstrates that “there is no one right way to live.”
Step two: “spit out the fruit of that forbidden tree.” Abandon the hubris that you have the wisdom to decide matters of life and death among the community of life.
Alan needs this to be more about him: what can he do?
What you do is to teach a hundred what I’ve taught you, and inspire each of them to teach a hundred. That’s how it’s always done.
[I think most would agree that I’ve done my part here: what can you do to expose a hundred to this message? I’d settle for two—provided those two also expose two, and so on.]
Ishmael then makes a powerful case that without changing mindsets and the premise to our story, we will continue conquering the world as if it belongs to us. We will remain at war. Laws won’t change this, as long as said laws are written by a society under this spell.
Change won’t be easy. It’s not a snap of the fingers. It’s not an “incantation” or a wave of the wand.
Alan anticipates a common reaction: you’re suggesting we go back to the Stone Age? Ishmael immediately labels this reaction as “inane.” The Leaver story is not welded to the lifestyle of hunting and gathering. Other modes may be possible. The key is to avoid ecocide: don’t cripple the community of life.
It’s not about going back, which we can never really do anyway. The forward direction might borrow elements from pre-history and modernity, in an inventive blend with new elements as well. Somewhat mocking our pride in being an “inventive people,” Ishmael suggests putting that to good use in devising ways to live within the Law.
10. Life in Prison
Ishmael points out that some prison inmates live quite comfortably, concentrating power within their domain and securing access to goods and services.
Modernity operates like a prison as well. Only the few, scattered, remaining Leaver cultures remain outside the bars. Many of those who accepted assimilation have had a very difficult time adjusting to imprisonment.
Noting that many prisons have an industry to keep inmates occupied, Ishmael asks what the prison industry of modernity might be. Alan gets it straight away: consuming the world.
11. Inequality vs. Jailbreak
Nothing about the unequal distribution of wealth and power within a prison is just. Likewise, power concentration within modernity is unquestionably unjust. Yet, “for all their power and privilege…not one of them has a key that will unlock the gate.” Donald Trump (1992 version) is offered as an example: still a captive of the modernity prison.
While it is certainly true that inequality within the prison is unjust, and that equitable distribution should be pursued, this is a secondary concern. The primary concern is imprisonment. If we and the community of life are to survive, the prison must be destroyed and its people set free. No amount of redistribution will address the core problem. [Moreover, escape from the prison will automatically “redistribute” and address disparity.]
For many, addressing inequality is sacred work. Ishmael asks us to look a level up: “breaking out of the Taker prison is a common cause to which all humanity can subscribe.” Alan is not convinced. Most people in the Taker prison are more concerned about what they can get for themselves within this prison than the fact that it’s a prison. [Based on my experience, I agree. Luckily, change can happen via the inevitable exchange of individuals through births and deaths.]
12. Bless You, Ishmael
Ishmael was showing signs of fatigue, and said to Alan: “You understand that I am finished with you.” It was an icy dagger. Ishmael apologized for the unintended bluntness, attributed to being tired. He clarified that he has nothing more to offer, but “would be pleased to count you as a friend.”
At this point, Ishmael spewed a monstrous sneeze. Alan vows to be back tomorrow, eliciting “a long, dark stare” from Ishmael and a final grunt.
Next Time
In the next installment, the final, short chapter follows Alan’s failed rescue attempt and coping with the result. Because it is short, I will take the opportunity to share my own thoughts about the book and the impact it has had on me.
I thank Alex Leff for looking over a draft of this post and offering valuable comments and suggestions.
Views: 183