---
title: "People and Hamadryas Baboons or On the Monkey Argument"
slug: lyudi-i-gamadrily-ili-ob-obezyanem-argumente
tags:
  - "On the State"
  - "Not So"
weight: 192
---

One of the most popular arguments in favor of the inevitability and obligatory nature of the state is the so-called "monkey argument." The meaning of this argument is that we are similar to monkeys and to understand how things are arranged with us, one simply needs to look at these cute creatures, since they are artless and know not sin. Having looked at monkeys, especially at various hamadryas baboons, which ethologists for some reason especially love, we discover a rigid hierarchy led by the alpha male who "holds" the herd, we also discover the redistribution of goods and other delights well known to us from life in the state. "You see," say the supporters of the monkey argument, "this is how things are really arranged. This is the natural order of things, and you can't argue against it, it's simply useless because... this is the natural order, in general."

This point of view is convenient because besides Wikipedia articles you can always also refer to countless British scientists who literally delight us with new information about the life of hamadryas baboons every week. Usually in texts describing the instructive habits of these monkeys, you will inevitably encounter the words "this is how our distant ancestors...," which, so to speak, is considered direct proof that hamadryas baboon behavior directly relates to humans.

Meanwhile, even superficial observation can easily find differences between hamadryas baboons and humans. Hamadryas baboons do not compose poems or write books, do not build railroads or steamships, do not invent computers or write programs for them. They do not change at all—a herd of hamadryas baboons that lived a few tens of thousands of years ago is no different from a modern herd of hamadryas baboons: the same alpha males, aggression, and redistribution. Therefore, if we assume that we really "descended from monkeys," the question remains unclear—what exactly do the findings from the life of hamadryas baboons tell us **about humans**? Especially if these findings concern not physiology but behavior—that is, ethics and the organization of social ties. Already at the level of simple extrapolation, the "monkey argument" contains a logical error. One cannot extrapolate dog behavior onto cat behavior, for example. The difference between hamadryas baboons and humans is much more significant, and in the ethical sense, herds of hamadryas baboons and human society are complete opposites. Moreover, even the "practice" so loved by all statists says that "tribes without chieftainship" were quite widespread among humans, that is, where alpha males and all other ugliness presented as the "natural order of things" was not observed, and leadership had not a power-based but a functional nature. By the way, Europeans suffered greatly with these tribes, since it was unclear to them who they needed to deal with, because there was no leadership there. In exactly the same way, the English suffered with Ireland, because there was no state there, the local "kings" were not kings in the sense familiar to the English, and therefore the "conquest" turned into three hundred years of bloody chaos.

In general, when you hear the "monkey argument," ask yourself a simple question—if people and hamadryas baboons are "so similar," then why are hamadryas baboons not human? And why aren't humans hamadryas baboons? If we are to speak about lessons that can be drawn from studying monkey herds, then they consist in a vivid demonstration of how we differ from monkeys, and what is absent from the ethics and social organization of these animals.

The main difference is obvious—in contrast to hamadryas baboons, in human society aggression is illegitimate and prosecuted. This is easy to see with the naked eye. For wars conducted by states, there always needs to be a reason. The results of wars without cause are usually short-lived; empires of various Attilas exist only one generation, while the founder lives. A "respectable reason" for war is precisely an attempt to avoid the status of aggressor. This manifests very vividly in feudal medieval times. Heaven forbid you attack a neighbor if you have no respectable claim to his title. If you do this without such a claim, everyone will unite against you and you may even be excommunicated from the church, which makes you an outcast not only in the eyes of the nobility but also in the eyes of the subjects, which is much worse. Any aggressor tells everyone what a peacemaker he is. Hitler, Putin—they all fought for peace. Currently in Donbas you will not find any aggressors; there everyone is defenders, whoever you take. In culture, this manifests even more vividly. The beloved by me "villain's monologue"—this is not a literary device but a real phenomenon; a person cannot consider himself an aggressor, he will always invent justifications to show that this is not so. Simply, the more obvious the aggression, the more complex the casuistic equilibristics needed to show that there is actually no aggression. Hence the lengthy tedious justifying monologues. Why go far—the thug in the alley will not attack just like that. First he needs to be offended by you. "Give me a cigarette" and other classics of the genre—this is the device by which the thug transforms from aggressor into victim.

Why human society is arranged this way is a question that remains open. But that it is based on the suppression of aggression (and thus provides freedom for cooperation and the progress and economic growth it causes) is beyond doubt. Hamadryas baboons, bees, ants, and termites have nothing to do with this, and their "experience" is interesting only as an experience of contrast and opposition.

People who repeat the popular meme about the "animal nature of man, covered by a thin layer of civilization" are greatly mistaken, at least in their assessment of the thickness of this "layer." This layer is not simply great; in fact, one can say that only within the boundaries of this layer is a person a person.