Handy Man—Part 1

The first bipedal critter to warrant the moniker handy man was the species Homo habilis (Latin for “handy man”). It prospered in Africa about two million years ago. They were called that because they were the first of our precursors to develop simple stone flake tools. These tools were a significant advance over the implements used by their forebears (mostly some sort of bludgeon), and allowed them to improve their diet, as well as better defend themselves on the savannas of Africa.

Homo habilis had a brain about half the size of ours, but that was a significant increase over the various ape-like species that preceded them. Habilis was the smartest ape of its time. (They lived concurrently with other closely-related species of bipedal apes.) Habilis—the toolmaker handyman—had not yet invented the formidable weapons that follow-on pre-humans would, so they still did not occupy the top predator slot in Africa. They remained occasional meals for fierce animals like lions and tigers. But their improving tools were on the way to making them dominant.

Handy man's succeeding species was Homo erectus, which later led directly to us. Homo erectus (“upright man”) further developed tools and even may have used fire to cook. It lived in groups that were the predecessor to bands of human hunter-gatherers.

This evolving process of our ancestors becoming increasingly skilled tool makers and weapons forgers led directly to Homo sapiens becoming the dominant species on planet Earth. These implements, conceived of by our growing brain and manipulated by our erect posture and very dexterous hands, made us the formidable critters we've become. There's been an increasingly rapid evolution of tools ever since—right up to our current sophisticated machines and robots of today. Our tools have made us top dog.

The first tools of Homo habilis were used to cut up meat, to break bones to get at the nourishing marrow, and thus diversify their diet beyond fruits and insects. When Homo erectus took the next step by manufacturing weapons, it could begin to assume the top predatory spot on the savanna. Spears and arrows enabled them to confront the fiercest animal.

Those early weapons were employed primarily for hunting, but they were also useful to attack or defend themselves from other roving bands of pre-humans—who were looked upon as alien critters that must be confronted and conquered. The tribal circle was very small and when another band was encountered, it was regarded to be as threatening as any other large predator.

Our weapons have continued to evolve and have become truly daunting. While our modern tools may have served us well, it's another story for our modern weapons. We now possess the power to inflict massive harm and kill many thousands of people at one blow... and we do. Our weapons of mass destruction—nuclear bombs, chemical weapons, drones, and similar armaments—can do damage far beyond what our ancestors could ever have imagined.

More on tools and weapons next time...

Where’s the Dividing Line?

We humans have long believed ourselves to be fundamentally different from other creatures. We’ve pointed with pride to the many achievements of Homo sapiens as proof of our difference, even as evidence of our superiority—achievements such as the Pyramids, Gutenberg’s printing press, and the Twinkie. Of course, we’re far more reluctant to recognize our other unique “accomplishments” such as DDT, instruments of war, and global warming—but that’s a topic for another time.

I find it fascinating that many of the barriers we’ve erected between ourselves and other members of the animal kingdom are tumbling down, as science plods its inexorable way forward. We once were confident that making and using tools distinguished us from all other critters. We pointed to our African ancestors of hundreds of thousands of years ago, who fashioned sophisticated stone tools and then used them to become brilliantly effective hunters. It separated them from the other great apes. Surely that was special!

In the last few decades, however, research has demonstrated that other critters have developed pretty impressive tool skills. We first had to admit that chimpanzees do it, then other primates. More recent studies have shown that even “lowly” crows construct and employ some complex tools.

Well, OK, if we’re not unique in tool use, surely we are fundamentally different in our cognitive abilities. You know, that big brain of ours, with its massive cortex. In particular, we’d like to think that our consciousness, our self-recognition is unique. A dumb animal looks at its reflection in a pond and just sees another dumb animal, right? It has no ability to comprehend that it’s staring at itself, right?

Wrong. Numerous clever experiments have placed animals in front of mirrors (they do it with mirrors!) and have clearly demonstrated the existence of self-recognition. (On the part of the animal, that is. I assume the researchers already were able to recognize themselves.) In a recent study a dot was attached to a magpie, in such a way that the dot could be seen by the magpie only in a mirror. Guess what? The bird soon realized that the mirror image was itself (it began scratching at the dot) and not another animal.

Will these results begin to sink into our psyches and tell us that we are not as different and as unique as we once erroneously believed? Will we soon come to revere all creatures (not just humans), rather than insensitively abuse them? We’re all in the same boat—Homo sapiens, all the way “down” to bacteria. That boat is called Earth and it needs the mutual acceptance and tolerance of all its critters—especially from us, the critter who believes it’s on top.