If we had landed here after the great saurians had been swept from
the scene, we might first have considered the lemurs or apes.
They had hands. Aesthetically viewed, the poor simians were simply
grotesque; but travelers who knew other planets might have known what
beauty may spring from an uncouth beginning in this magic universe.
Still--those frowsy, unlovely hordes of apes and monkeys were so
completely lacking in signs of kingship; they were so flighty, too,
in their ways, and had so little purpose, and so much love for
absurd and idle chatter, that they would have struck us, we thought,
as unlikely material. Such traits, we should have reminded ourselves,
persist. They are not easily left behind, even after long stages; and
they form a terrible obstacle to all high advancement.
V
The bees or the ants might have seemed to us more promising. Their
smallness of size was not necessarily too much of a handicap. They
could have made poison their weapon for the subjugation of rivals.
And in these orderly insects there are obviously a capacity for
labor, and co-operative labor at that, which could carry them far.
We all know that they have a marked genius: great gifts of their
own. In a civilization of super-ants or bees, there would have
been no problem of the hungry unemployed, no poverty, no unstable
government, no riots, no strikes for short hours, no derision of
eugenics, no thieves, perhaps no crime at all.
Ants are good citizens: they place group interests first.
But they carry it so far, they have few or no political rights.
An ant doesn't have the vote, apparently: he just has his duties.
This quality may have something to do with their having groups wars.
The egotism of their individual spirits is allowed scant expression,
so the egotism of the groups is extremely ferocious and active. Is
this one of the reasons why ants fight so much? We have seen the same
phenomenon occur in certain nations of men. And the ants commit
atrocities in and after their battles that are--I wish I could truly
say--inhuman.
But conversely, ants are absolutely unselfish within the community.
They are skilful. Ingenious. Their nests and buildings are
relatively larger than man's. The scientists speak of their paved
streets, vaulted halls, their hundreds of different domesticated
animals, their pluck and intelligence, their individual initiative,
their chaste and industrious lives. Darwin said the ant's brain
was "one of the most marvelous atoms in the world, perhaps more so
than the brain of man"--yes, of present-day man, who for thousands
and thousands of years has had so much more chance to develop his
brain.... A thoughtful observer would have weighed all these
excellent qualities.
When we think of these creatures as little men (which is all wrong
of course) we see they have their faults. To our eyes they seem
too orderly, for instance. Repressively so. Their ways are more
fixed than those of the old Egyptians, and their industry is painful
to think of, it's hyper-Chinese. But we must remember this is a
simian comment. The instincts of the species that you and I belong
to are of an opposite kind; and that makes it hard for us to judge
ants fairly.
But we and the ants are alike in one matter: the strong love of
property. And instead of merely struggling with Nature for it,
they also fight other ants. The custom of plunder seems to be a
part of most of their wars. This has gone on for ages among them,
and continues today. Raids, ferocious combats, and loot are part
of an ant's regular life. Ant reformers, if there were any, might
lay this to their property sense, and talk of abolishing property
as a cure for the evil. But that would not help for long unless
they could abolish the love of it.
Ants seem to care even more for property than we do ourselves. We
men are inclined to ease up a little when we have all we need. But
it no so with ants: they can't bear to stop: they keep right on
working. This means that ants do not contemplate: they heed nothing
outside of their own little rounds. It is almost as though their
fondness for labor had closed fast their minds.
Conceivably they might have developed inquiring minds. But this
would have run against their strongest instincts. The ant is
knowing and wise; but he doesn't know enough to take a vacation.
The worshipper of energy is too physically energetic to see that
he cannot explore certain higher fields until he is still.
Even if such a race had somehow achieved self-consciousness and
reason, would they have been able therewith to rule their instincts,
or to stop work long enough to examine themselves, or the universe,
or to dream of any noble development? Probably not. Reason is
seldom or never the ruler: it is the servant of instinct. It would
therefore have told the ants that incessant toil was useful and good.
"Toil has brought you up from the ruck of things." Reason would
have plausibly said, "it's by virtue of feverish toil that you
have become what you are. Being endlessly industrious is the best
road--for you--to the heights." And, self-reassured, they would
then have had orgies of work; and thus, by devoted exertion, have
blocked their advancement. Work, and order and gain would have
withered their souls.