People did the kind of things they did, not because somebody just thought it up, or ordered them to do it, but because it seemed to flow from the very necessity of existence. The reasons given after the thing was done, in the form of dress or ceremony, asserted the rightness of the choice. We can, with good reason, assume that 50,000 years ago mankind had developed a variety of moral orders, each expressed in some local tradition, and comparable to what we find among aborigines today. Their tradition was made up of an accumulation of experience.

Richard and I, and others who have experienced the aboriginal lifestyle, know that an interesting thing happens when a group of strangers converge and end up relying on each other for life’s necessities. Immediately, leaders emerge. But, like Neanderthal, appearances are deceiving—those with innate leadership ability are seldom obvious at first. In modern life, the leader is often the bully or the person who has more of what everyone else wants. Thus, he or she uses it to buy popularity. But bullying techniques, brashness and brute force do not set anyone apart on the trail, except as a bore.

It usually happens as we strike out for our first campsite. Although he or she seldom takes the lead, one of the group will take notice of a straggler and offer encouragement. Once settled into a daily routine, they are often the first to ask questions and to try their hand at new skills. If they fail, they continue relentlessly until they achieve their objective. But most of all, once they have accomplished a thing, they help others, and delight in their excitement. By caring and helpful serving, the new leader inadvertently earns the respect of the majority of the group, and becomes “chief.” Other kinds of leaders also emerge. Some are more adept at a particular skill than anyone else, and thus respected for their ability.

Teaching basketry has always been my job on the trail because it is something I enjoy and do reasonably well. I am pleased to think that my contribution adds to the overall success of the experience. But, on one particular trip, I was quickly replaced by a young girl—the most timid of the group. After watching the basket-making demonstration, she collected her materials and retired to a secluded rock overhang. At the evening campfire she emerged with a beautifully crafted piece of art. We were all astounded at her skill and asked if she had received previous training. She had not. As a result of her natural talent she gained the respect of everyone. Her advice was sought instead of mine, and she was drawn into the circle. It was a growing experience for her, and a humbling one for me.

In ancient settlements there were no full-time specialists because in hunter-gatherer communities there simply was not enough food to go around unless every member of the group contributed to the supply. And in the primitive societies of the present day there are rarely full-time specialists. So we can assume that in the early condition of humanity what men did was customarily different from what women did, but what one man did was much like what another man did. There were men with special skills at activities carried on by all men and the same was true of women.

At any one time the members of a primitive community may be doing notably different things: the women looking for edible roots while the men hunt meat; some men out on a hunting party while others at home perform a rite for its success. Yet, all of these activities merge to a purpose and express a view of duty that all share. This life style is attested to in every isolated, undisturbed primitive society we observe today and has been the case on every trip I have attended.

It is interesting, however, that studies of modern hunter-gatherers show that most of a family’s calories come from plant food gathered by women. Men catch rats and other small game that they don’t mention in their heroic campfire stories. Occasionally they get a large animal, which does indeed contribute significantly to everyone’s protein intake, but it’s only in the Arctic, where little plant food is available, that big-game becomes the dominant food source. Humans didn’t reach the Arctic until around 30,000 years ago.⁴

I personally doubt that hunting was the driving force behind early societies. For most of our history we were not mighty hunters. In fact, it was the hunting-gathering way of life that allowed us to evolve over hundreds of thousands of years. In this, women were partners and their gathering was more dependable than the men’s hunting, making their contribution vital.

Still, the mystique of “Man the Hunter” is so rooted in us that it is hard to abandon our belief in its long-standing importance. Consequently, on our modern-day abo treks, although everyone is instructed in all of the life skills, when it comes to actually functioning as a cohesive unit, the men set traps and clean and skin the animals (stuff I don’t want to do anyway), while the women collect plants and make pottery. We build our own shelter, often cooperatively, collect bark for bedding, cook collectively and clean up our own areas. If someone happens to make extra ash cakes, he might offer to trade for cordage or some other item of perceived similar value. Pottery is a big commodity for trading and can exact a fish or rabbit or sleeping mat in exchange. Everyone shares.

The Big Merge

During a relatively short span of about 100,000 years, Neanderthals spread across Europe, the Middle East and western and central Asia. Their cousins, other Homo sapiens, were found as far away as China and South Africa.

Some magic element was added about 60,000 years ago that produced innovative, fully modern people who proceeded to spread westward into Europe, quickly supplanting the Neanderthals. Presumably, they also spread east into Asia and Indonesia, displacing the earlier people there, about whom we know little.

Anthropologists disagree about what happened when early modern humans met Neanderthals. As recently as 35,000 years ago there were still Neanderthals in western Europe. But when the anatomically modern people appeared in Europe, suddenly so did sculpture, musical instruments, lamps, trade, and innovation. Within a few thousand years the Neanderthals were gone.

In one theory, modern humans stormed into Europe about 40,000 years ago and either beat Neanderthals to scarce resources or actually exterminated them. And a new kind of genetic analysis shows that no Neanderthal mitochondrial genes, which reside outside cell nuclei, remain in modern humans.

That genetic work remains controversial and archeological findings in caves in Qafzeh near Nazareth, Israel and Kebara, near Mount Carmel, show both Neanderthals and early modern humans living together peacefully. For thousands of generations the Neanderthals match (either by originality or imitation) their more modern cousins advance for advance. Perhaps they intermarried, the best of each merging to produce the hybrid who would eventually conquer the planet.⁵

By contrast, Neanderthals who remained isolated in western Europe apparently reached a dead end. Some researchers speculate that they were technologically and socially backward. Perhaps they didn’t have as fine a division of labor, or maybe they had more babies and could not move on when climate changes sent herds of animals (food) in search of better weather. Or perhaps Neanderthals were simply unable to keep a fire burning when they moved. Any of these factors could have given early modern humans enough of an edge to leave Neanderthals in the evolutionary dust.

Some scientists feel that environmental changes caused the demise of Neanderthal; however, Neanderthals actually thrived during the Ice Age. It is more likely that they met the same fate as other cultures when a numerous people with more advanced technology invade the lands of a much less numerous people with less advanced technology: for instance, the displacement that occurred when European colonists invaded North America and Australia or when the Bantus invaded lands of the southern African Bushmen.