An earlier version of this article appeared elsewhere on the internet under the pseudonym P. Onocrotalus.

Climate change and coronavirus policies, particularly lockdown policies, have diametrically opposite approaches to valuing life in the present and the future, yet they are both enthusiastically endorsed by state bureaucracies around the world, not least in the United Kingdom. Have they something in common in spite of their apparent differences?

Vaccines to protect against Covid-19 did not excuse the Prime Minister from his perceived obligation to put the population under what was little better than house arrest when faced with variant of the virus, and while public reluctance combined with the mildness of the omicron variant seem to have prevented another national lockdown, at least for the time being, it now seems inevitable that the British government, acting as a Committee of Public Safety, will immediately resort to policies restricting movement and meeting in the case of future variants and other pandemics. Lockdowns are now an accepted tool of public health policy.

Many of us are struggling to understand how this extraordinarily oppressive state of affairs has come about, and so quickly, and with hardly any substantial resistance. Comparison with another risk management policy, climate change mitigation, sheds a disconcerting light on the matter. Superficially different in character, these two contrasted policies share a common answer to the ever-relevant question, Cui bono.  But let us start with the differences.

Climate change policy applies little or no discount to the interests of the infinite future, and so as a consequence gives the interests of the present only the slightest weight in the balance. – Those currently alive are asked to make sacrifices, and in practice unlimited sacrifices, to save infinitely distant future generations.

Lockdown policy applies a zero discount to a small selection of present interests and thus attempts to prevent death, with only scant regard for the long-term societal damage incurred. – The interests of the future are heavily discounted and thus sacrificed to preserve a subsection of the present whose interests are ostensibly given overwhelming privilege.

Neither of these policies is consistent with the way that human beings in actual behavioural fact value their own lives and the lives of others in the present and in the future. This is puzzling since it is not particularly difficult to determine what human beings are maximising through their very varied behaviour.

Banal though it may seem, we have no evidence that humans are anything more than straightforward reproductive organisms that value their own lives insofar as they gather resources and secure their reproduction. They do not maximise their individual longevity or their individual hedonic experience, both of which are proxies and not ultimate ends. The only final goal that we can infer is ultimate reproduction, bearing in mind that this is achieved through the extended family as well as immediate offspring. This behavioural purpose is so far from transcendent that it will seem to many hardly worthy of the name, but observation has so far indicated no other human goal.

Of course, real world human behaviour is characterised by balanced self-sacrifice in the interests of offspring. However, climate and lockdown policies require unbalanced sacrifices of a kind that men and women do not offer spontaneously. The policies run against the psychological grain.

Consider the details. A coronavirus lockdown is intended to save human life. But the virus does not, apparently, threaten the young, only the very old who are post-reproductive and, in most cases, contributing little or perhaps nothing to the wellbeing of their nevertheless much-loved children and grandchildren.

The sacrifice is predominantly required of the young and the active who are still gathering resources to produce and rear families. But lockdowns do indeed harm the life’s work of the old by putting their continued personal existence before the interests of their offspring and extended families, a preference that the old themselves would never express or realise in action.

Thus, coronavirus lockdown policy frustrates the bedrock of altruism underlying the family, and also burdens the old, against their will, with a terrible responsibility.

Climate policy, however, tends in the opposite different direction. The interests of the infinite future are put before those of everyone or nearly everyone at present living. Great sacrifices must be made in the short run to reduce emissions and protect populations as yet unborn. This is, once again, a decision that actual men and women would never make spontaneously, for if the interests of the present are not sufficiently well served there can be no future generations. Climate preachers urge their congregations to “think of the kids” and not themselves, but the advice is both absurd and redundant. Parents care for their families but must first care for themselves. The pelican certainly tears its breast to feed its young, but it does not start by cutting its own throat.

The rhetoric of climate policy describes present generations as selfish hedonic maximisers that must be compelled to relegate their own experiential hunger in order to protect the interests of future generations. But, as we have seen, this is both false and needless; the living are already engaged in a balancing of interests to produce and secure the existence of future individuals, far into the future, and they need no pressure from climate policy to think in this selfless way. Indeed, extreme climate policy, and at present we have no other for Net Zero comes in one flavour, is harmful to the interests of future generations as well as those alive at the present time because it frustrates precisely those current interests that must be satisfied if there is to be any prospect of a future generation of human beings.

Both lockdown and climate policies, therefore, suffer from an ostensibly uncompromising and absolutist morality which demands that equal value is put on all human lives regardless of their position in the reproductive trajectory. As a matter of real-world fact, this runs counter to the interests of all parties involved, and, unsurprisingly, is not how men and women behave in practice. Parents must satisfy enough of their own requirements to reproduce and care for their families, but they will not absolutely sacrifice the interests of their descendants in order to preserve their own lives. The pelican, we have noted, will not cut its own throat, yet, mythically speaking, it most certainly does tear its own breast, curtailing its hedonic satisfactions and shortening its life in order to rear its young.

Nonetheless, and contrary to observation, lockdown policy must presume that mature human beings would wish to preserve their individual lives at the cost of sacrificing the future of their offspring, which in fact they do not and would never do.

Climate policy, on the other hand, claims that the living will not willingly sacrifice themselves for a future generation. However, as a matter of routine fact that is what people do, though in a necessarily pragmatic way that is incompatible with the extreme and self-harming action required by the currently predominant low-carbon policies.

Climate mitigation and lockdown policies are not only inconsistent with human wishes and actual behaviour, but they are clearly inconsistent with one another, lockdown policy insisting on the absolute value of some present lives, and climate policy insisting on the absolute value of all future lives. In addition, climate policy suffers from an internal flaw: it threatens future lives by leaving the present unable to raise a viable generation with a secure societal future.

These policies are obviously errors, but are they pure errors, random walks in possibility space that have strayed quite accidentally from the path of practicality? One has to allow that this might be true; delusions and mistakes do occur even in minds of the finest quality, and it is possible that both these faulty policies arise from a very widely distributed popular misconception or from an honest administrative error.

But a general delusion does not seem likely. Humans are extremely good at perceiving and acting on their own interest, and they rarely go down the wrong path for long. To err is certainly human; but so is learning from error. A population-wide mistake that endures for long periods has never been observed. Some peoples have been said to try every other available course before doing the right thing, but the joke has its laugh because they do eventually find their way back to the path. Populations may indeed be destroyed by the weight of circumstances, but not by their errors; they do the best they can in the most miserable and constrained of conditions. One thinks of the desperate jeopardy of the Melians.

Pure errors, then, are quickly corrected, but climate policy, at least, has been with us in its present form for some twenty years, and in spite of manifest failures and vast costs appears to be insusceptible to criticism, even when extremely well aimed. It is therefore unlikely to be a pure error. Some other force accounts for its survival. We cannot be certain if this is also true of lockdown policies, since these are not even two years old, but they are already showing signs of extreme resilience in the face of informed opposition and public resistance. Lockdown may not be a pure populational error either. Perhaps this very ill wind blows good to someone.

If these policies are not pseudoxia epidemica, perhaps they are administrative errors, arising from a deeply rooted governmental misconception? That is not unlikely; civil servants are people and people make mistakes; but unlike people outside the chalk circle of the state apparatus, civil servants are very slow to learn from their mistakes because they are insulated from the consequences of failure. But if this were the case for climate and lockdown policies one might expect them both to possess or to flow from similar logical structures, a departmental or cross-departmental “view” on societal emergencies for example. But as been shown above this does not appear to be true. Indeed, these policies approach discounting in diametrically opposed and contradictory ways, one privileging the present and the other privileging the future. They possess different foundations.

It would appear, then, that these policies are not based on pure errors. In which case they must be impure, and instead serve some more or less concealed interest. But whose interest? The ultimate beneficiaries are hardly likely to raise their hands when asked, and they may not even be aware of their involvement. As a little candid introspection will begin to dimly perceive, we all hold some of our vested self-interest in blind and frequently offshore trusts.

But the situation is not hopeless. We can confidently identify the way harm is distributed, and in doing so we will arrive at a common feature in the policies that points us in the direction of those who probably benefit.

Both lockdown and climate policies are to the disadvantage of people who are vigorous, active and present. In the case of lockdown policies, they directly harm anyone not old. Furthermore, they even harm the interests of the old indirectly by compromising the future wellbeing of their offspring and extended families. Climate policies harm anyone alive, with benefits being imagined for the abstract, absent, unborn.

In other words, both policies appear to harm the majority of the present population, while pretending to act on behalf of a weak and voiceless population, the very old and the as yet unborn.

Thus, at a gross level these policies appear to be almost universally harmful. But a moment’s reflection will show that the net effect is different. Both sets of policies frustrate the free wishes of a population that seeks to secure their own reproduction through balanced self-sacrifice, and the frustration of such firmly held wishes requires coercive regulation and enforcement, activities that can only be delivered with the sanction of state violence and through the offices of secure and securely remunerated positions within the state, the para-state, and the very many associated clients of both. The ultimate net beneficiaries of lockdown policies and climate policies are state employees and state contractors.

We can conclude, therefore, that policies with contradictory approaches to present and future can occur simultaneously in governmental policy because their ultimate end, the reason that they are preferred over other policies, is to provide plausible justification for coercive intrusion into the lives of the vigorous population. The policies efficiently disarm criticism by claiming to act on behalf of parties that are practically unable to disown and reject the “help” offered to them, the old because they are infirm, and the unborn because they are absent. Because these parties lie at opposite ends of the life-cycle, and consequently in the process of justification those responsible for state policy have been compelled to adopt two incompatible discounting models in their rhetoric. The dog being beaten is the same, but different sticks must be held in different ways.

But it is the hand wielding those sticks that interests us. The historical record provides ample evidence, quite apart from our own recent experience, to suggest that the administrative opportunities of large societies will create a clerisy with strong personal and prejudicial interests that are in deep and considerable conflict with the wishes of the population they claim to serve. This divergence is on occasion betrayed by the character of the altruism called for by policies, such as the public health measures addressing the coronavirus or the emissions reduction strategy employed to mitigate climate change.

This suggests a political litmus test. If any public interest policy is inconsistent with the balanced self-sacrifice of parents, then it is almost certainly exploiting the population in order to serve the administration and its clients. History suggests that this will not be a stable situation. All normative discounting models, such as those employed explicitly by Lord Stern in his notorious climate review, and implicitly in the lockdown policies employed over the last two years, should be firmly rejected as politically dangerous. Naturalistic models derived from the observed behaviour of the population are to be preferred on all occasions.

And better still, let us dispense with discounting models altogether except as academic descriptive and predictive tools. A free society can confidently rely on the spontaneous judgment of men and women to correctly value the future and the present, themselves and each other, as their intuitions direct them in the expression of familial love and friendship. The outcome will be qualified self-sacrifice and a prosperous society with as long a future as fate permits.

The net value of an individual to another individual, you for example, is a complicated matter comprising the value as a co-operator and the degree of threat that the other person presents to you as a competitor. In a random street interaction today in most countries the mutually perceived value as co-operators is low, and the degree of threat is high. Just how low and how high varies from place to place, but the structure is now universal.

But, if it transpires that there is an increasing likelihood of further interaction, the perceived value as a co-operator rises, and the threat subsides from an acute to a diffused chronic state.

Subtracting the threat from the potential benefit as co-operator gives the perceived net value of that individual. I suggest, and this is an observation, that the net value of one randomly selected individual in the UK population to another similarly selected is probably zero or less.

However, from one component aspect, that of sexual interaction, the calculation may produce different results. The value to a male of a randomly selected female is much higher than that of a randomly selected male since all fertile females are potential reproductive opportunities. The value of a randomly selected male to a female is presumably lower, but still somewhat higher as a sexual partner than considered on another axis of value. – For example, the randomly selected male may offer additional genetic value over that currently available from the present mate. Furthermore, the female perspective may enhance the realisable value of unknown and genetically undesirable males because of the potential of manipulating them with the offer, never to be fulfilled, of successful reproduction, thus obtaining support or resources.

In the light of these two points, it is worth asking whether large societies are held together by sex or the potential of sex. We might thus hypothesise that: It is the value of random strangers of the opposite sex as potential reproductive partners renders the male and female halves of the population tolerant of one another and constitutes the principal perceived value in the population at large. As for the rest, "All Men are Enemies" and "Women Beware Women", but pacific core prevents wider deflagration.

This view would explain why modern cultural representations are even more heavily tilted towards the subject of sexual access than the representations common in previous periods, and this is to say a great deal since pictorial, sculptural, literary and oral cultural materials in all societies and over all periods are dominated by the subject of sexual access. – In the modern period all other subjects are pushed to the extreme margin. We are quite obsessed with sex because it alone holds us together.

The view outlined here may also go some way to explaining why sexual freedom has become a leftist, socialist or collectivist policy, leaving pro-family politicians to seem anti-social and rightist, when as a matter of demonstrable fact the disadvantaged male championed by the left has the most to lose from the erosion of moral and institutional restraints on sexual behaviour since he is unable to compete.

Superficial logic might lead one to expect that sexual freedom would be a rightist, individualist policy, but it plainly hasn’t. If, on the other hand, sex is almost the only factor pacifying large societies, and creating a degree of mutual tolerance that mitigates general competition, then it will obviously be adopted by the left.

This view may also have some bearing on the extraordinary and historically unprecedented power of women in large societies, and may even tell us something about what seems to be an elevated level of male homosexuality in large populations as compared to smaller ones.

In conversation on the 23 February 1997, in Kyoto, I observed that cultural forms such as singing and dancing were likely to become widely employed because they registered the health of the creators or performers, particularly the latter. To perform a pre-set dance or to sing requires a healthy nervous system and general health. It is, after all, quite easy to tell from a person’s speech when they are mentally disturbed or retarded, and the movements of such people are also a strong indication.

The friends to whom I was speaking replied that this was all very well, but the rhythm was not much present in Japanese literature, and dancing was itself rather rare, particularly of the kind I mentioned, male and female partners moving together. Feebly I observed that enka, the Japanese blues, seemed quite rhythmic to me, and Yukio then said that of course it was, because it was based on folk-song, and much Japanese folk song, particularly that from Okinawa, was very heavily rhythmical.

How interesting it would be, I remarked, to know if the Okinawans had allowed women a considerable degree of sexual freedom, in choosing mates and lovers. Yukio said that of course this was quite true, indeed that there were festivals in which males would sing or perform in the fields and women would choose a suitable partner with whom to step aside.

This led me to the hypothesis that both singing and dancing will probably be strongly associated with periods when women are relatively free to choose mates. Moreover, singing and dancing will be rhythmical in relation to the degree of that freedom, precisely because the more freedom women can exercise the more important it is that young men can demonstrate health, and rhythmic forms are well formed for this registration. It is possible that other aspects of the forms will also vary for this reason. I predict therefore that cultural material of higher status will tend to move away from forms that register health, since high status power groups tend to be male dominated and thus also tend to restrict female choice.


John William Waterhouse, "A Tale from the Decameron", 1916.

That is to say: freedom of female choice leads to cultural forms which register the health and mate value of the creator or performer. Restrictions on female freedom will thus be associated with cultural forms which do not register these matters. Puritan England, for example, was male dominated, and there was little or no public singing, dancing, or music-making. The same might be noted of Islam. Church music in England is also notoriously monotonous during the 17th century.

The link between rock music and sexual freedom is so obvious that it hardly needs comment, and the present thesis offers some degree of explanation; it offers, indeed, a sidelight on the otherwise puzzling fact that the lyrics of sexually unrestricted rock music should be so formally conservative. No vers libre for the libertines.

We can further wonder whether there other differences in cultural form arise and stabilise when competition between females is high relative to competition between males. Women will always and to some degree be in the position of competing, and the affect on cultural forms would be worth investigation.

Finally, for now, we can explain why men of high status and wealth are such reluctant singers and dancers. Such men already possess high apparent mate value; they have no reason to abandon their hard-won high-ground, and risk all by accepting or provoking a challenge on a fresh and level turf where they may find themselves at a disadvantage.

Forms impressed by other ages,
Worn but little since,
Coelacanth and lungfish
Pause, observe, and breathe;

Gambling as life gambles,
Die- cast by luck’s unwinding,
Cast forward into ignorance,
Caught by turgid change;

Saved to pause, observe, and
Breathe, worn but little since,
Impressed by every passing age,
Luck’s unwinding casts their die.

One of the hardest of all lessons for the educated is that in which they are required to listen once again to the voices of the wider population, voices that they have neglected as a matter of course during their training. Taking this instruction is all the more distasteful because the thought of the public is not composed in a foreign language, softening the focus and creating a romantic aura, but in a transparent and ubiquitous low caste dialect of the language spoken and written by the educated themselves. – The discussions of the public, in general media, and in the aggregate of all private discussions, are a mess, or seem so to someone in the educated, literate, numerate, subset. And indeed, en masse, they are even more prone to internal contradiction and inconsistency than the thought of a single person, and this, heaven knows, is quite enough of a mess, even at its most coherent.

But populations, like individuals, are also information processing systems, and intellectuals must learn to understand how such large networks of people operate as subtle integrative networks, and then learn to grasp the aggregate, net outputs, which are frequently in a casual non-technical form.

Indeed, it might be argued that one function for the intellectual, and perhaps one of the most important, is not independent creation but the interpretation and translation of the outputs of the public realm, providing technical grounds for the decisions and expressions of preference that result.

Intellectuals should never forget that, in spite of all appearances, the public, the network, is listening to them (for the intellectual world is part of that network, not separate from it) and if intellectuals abuse their position, by forcing their own views into the translation, they will be rejected, and a rapporteur with more integrity will be preferred.

This is an immensely delicate business, with intellectuals in a continual struggle to express and simultaneously inflect public thought. Their position, indeed, is not at all unlike that of judges, who appear to have vast power underwritten by great knowledge, but are self-constrained by the law within which they operate and which they know better than any contemporary.

When societies become unable to sustain very high rates of growth the domestic niche narrows and that society begins to agonise about matters of political economy, the distribution of the wealth which is extant in that society. England in the 1880s is a good case.

The West today generally seems to be in this position, with those contract-shifted states (US, UK) worse affected than those that are relatively speaking status-shifted (Germany, Japan).

In contrast, countries with high rates of growth are outward looking; the domestic niche is expanding, partly through the incorporation of further external niches. Suspension of interest in political economy is the result but it is replaced by intense awareness of external competitors. England in the period 1700 to 1850 is a perfect historical example, and China is the contemporary specimen.

Democracy is valuable and preferable because at its best it does the diametrical opposite of what it claims to do. – When democracy functions well it prevents the majority or any sizeable minority from exercising power over any other part or indeed the whole. It creates weak governments, and this is its principal virtue. Far from giving expression to the will of the majority, democracy frustrates every will, and though to a degree frustrated in their wishes the individuals in a democracy are protected by the absence of an overwhelmingly powerful control.

But this desirable quality is transient, or at least unstable. Two other conditions are at least as common, and perhaps more enduring.

Firstly, democracy is vulnerable to demagogic leadership, and demagogues are the creatures and the parasites of majority opinion. Since almost all democratically elected leaders are in fact demagogues to some degree this results in the oppression of the individual by the majority or by substantial minorities within the population. Judging from recent history, since 1945, this is a common and long-lasting condition.

Secondly, when the apparatus of state within a democracy becomes enlarged the civil servants and state clients, including corporate bodies, themselves form an interest group that supersedes elected politicians, evades control and becomes truly and lastingly powerful. This outcome is inevitable when state employees are permitted to vote, and perhaps highly likely even if they are disenfranchised.

We must therefore reconcile ourselves to the fact, evident from the historical record, that the best conditions for an individual occur transiently in the dynamic processes of political development and decay. Here is no abiding city.

My youngest son is very keen on magic, which he insists is real. The boy certainly knows what he means by it, but do we?

He believes, for example, that wishes wash dishes, that one who desires hard enough will fly, that a mind that believes in its own power can create thing or situation that he desires. This statement of means and ends takes us a little way towards understanding his view, but we need a more precise and yet abstract account if we are to grasp the misapprehension at its root.

Let us turn over in our minds all the instances of magic in fiction and folk tale and stage magic that we can recall, and from that material construct a naturalistic and composite definition. I cannot reach your reports, but my own experience of these sources suggests that without exception all instances of supposed magic contain an element of surprise, indicating that what has gone before provides no clue of what is to come. In other words, there is a discontinuity; the statistical regularities of the past break off and something quite unexpected enters from behind the curtain.

Magical thinking is the belief that these discontinuities can occur frequently and in relation to fulfilled desires:

Magic is the discontinuation of the world’s statistical regularities in accordance with a human wish.

We can add by way of further explanation that White magic is a discontinuity coincident with my (or our) wishes; black magic is a discontinuity coincident with your (or their) wishes when these contradict my own wishes and those of any other person I nominate.

The element of surprise and discontinuity means that to an ignorant person, largely unaware of the world’s regularities (there does seem to be a naive physics built in at birth), much is indeed to all appearance magical, in either its black or white varieties. But that person will lose this sense of the magical as their observations broaden and they come to perceive the world’s statistical order and to recognise that what they had thought were discontinuous novelties are statistically predicted by what has gone before.

We can now see that science, which is at its heart nothing more (or less) than the observation of statistical regularities, is intrinsically hostile to magic. One must note, however, that these anti-magical qualities of science are derived from observation only, not from any assertion of causal relationships between observations, which are notoriously uncertain (see Hume) and constitute the sceptical core of human science. But this lack of a firm causal relationship is irrelevant. Magic is banished by the observation of regularity however that is caused, and about which causation we need make no presumption.

Thus, the adult view is scientific insofar as more observations have been made, more regularities detected. – What seems magical to my son at present will, before long and as he ages, seem entirely continuous with all that has gone before. That which is in accordance with his wishes he will see as fortunate, not White Magical, and that which runs counter to his desires he will accept simply and logically as undesirable, rather than maliciously Black Magical.

There are already signs of this development, and it seems to be accelerating alongside his ability to read. That may seem bizarre since what he reads is largely fantastical narrative fiction. However, magic is undermined by literacy itself, since without literacy, and in the absence of the records made possible by written notation, we struggle to retain awareness of sufficient information to observe detailed regularities, and so the world appears to a much greater degree irregular and so potentially magical. Even as he reads contrived stories about dragons and spirits my son will be exposed to the intersubjective records of real-world regularities that authors must, whether they wish to or not, employ as a contrasting background to magic in fiction, and so he will be introduced, gradus ad Parnassum, to the records that we call human science, stretching from history on the one hand to mathematics on the other.

While at its most absurd, literary fantasy undermines the tendency to think magically precisely because of its written character. I would prefer him to be reading Richard Feynman, but his interest in Harry Potter and Beast Quest does not throw me into despair, at least not yet.

The inflexibility of status societies necessarily creates pressure towards behavioural conformity, since it is conformity to the established moral view on all matters that gives value to positions in the hierarchy assigned by status. However, due to its inflexibility the society generates little surplus wealth. Consequently, competition for this surplus, via competition for status positions, is intense. One thinks of pre-communist and perhaps even contemporary China.

It is also true that status societies, and even those that have subsequently become contract shifted, such as Japan or Britain in the 18th and 19th centuries, become hostile to foreigners. In a status society all positions are already filled, and vacancies can easily be filled by natives, so an outsider fills one of those positions at the expense of a native. If such feelings can persist even in contract-shifted societies, and they plainly do, then imagine how much stronger will be the manifestation of these tendencies in a status-shifted society.

This moral conservatism extends into every branch of life, and in spite of the variation in precise or proximal motivations all moral rules in these societies serve the interests of the individual within a rigid system of status, frequently by policing transgressions which even an Argus-eyed state could not detect. Insistence on moral conformity reduces in essence to preventing others from gaining an advantage of any kind, large or small.

Contract societies, on the other hand, transform all these relationships into a contractual form. A status society sees marriage as a mystical bond, the status of which is defined and guaranteed in the eyes of a supernal power, usually a deity, whereas a contract society sees it as a voluntary, sublunary, arrangement or agreement of relationship, and open to all individuals, even those of the same sex.

In general, where a status society sees moral rules as static instructions governing relations as firmly as the hierarchy of assignments establishes and guarantees the status society itself, a contract society sees them as temporary agreements arising from localised consensus.

Which is the more likely to produce societies that endure is uncertain. We can reason about the matter, weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of each, but only the stress of experiment can deliver an authoritative answer. Time will tell; time is telling.