Do Bullies Win? Moonlighting the Improbable in a "Dog Eat Dog" World
- Laura A. Weber
- 8 minutes ago
- 5 min read
It's a "dog eat dog" world. Meaning: the ruthless pursuit of power or corrupt domination at the expense of fellow human beings, causing them irreparable harm. That's what it has come to mean, but its original iteration tells a VERY different story. In De Lingua Latina (On the Latin Language, 43 B.C.E.) Roman scholar Marcus Terentius Varro quoted the proverb, "canis caninam non est," that is, "a dog does not eat dog (flesh)." In other words, dogs have their limits and stop short of consuming their fellow dogs unless in dire contexts. How did the saying then become so utterly altered so as to contradict its original meaning? The 19th c. might shed some light.
"In 1813, 'dog-eat-dog' appeared in English in a collection of political essays, but it repurposed the original Latin idiom and was used to suggest the exact opposite. The implication was that in the world of politics — and other cutthroat industries — 'dogs' (people) don’t have any limits in the pursuit of unbridled success and power." (source)
The 19th c. was a calamity for social justice in the context of the Industrial Revolution, rapid urbanization, the rise of monopolies,
and human rights abuse. It heralded a thoroughgoing critique of the unethical pursuit of power across a variety of literary genres, including political philosophy, poetry, satire, science fiction, and political commentary by the likes of Marx, Engels, Lloyd, Zola, Bellamy, Dickens, Twain, Whitman and others. The 19th c. also saw the publication of Charles Darwin's now-famous On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection (1859). The work caused socio-institutional upheaval by supplanting biblical stories of creation as a literal 7-day "event" with evolution of life in the biosphere occurring in deep time, over hundreds of millions of years. And that was only one notable effect of the landmark publication, which led to the rise of religious fundamentalism and constructed a rigid dichotomy between scientific inquiry and articles of faith.
Another effect of Darwin's work is the mistaken idea that "bullies win." The notion of the "survival of the fittest," coined by Herbert Spencer as an interpretation of Darwin, came to mean a "weeding out" of the weak by the physically strongest or the most aggressive, in a parade of genetic dominance. Such an interpretation led to the idea of Social Darwinism in which the weak are cannibalized by the powerful, but that's a tragic misreading of Darwin's synthesis.
Close examination of "survival of the fittest" reveals a key distinction, that Darwin's evolutionary theory was emphasizing the role of cooperation in evolutionary success. Darwin construed the "fittest" as those species most adaptable and most collaborative, and therefore most suited to survive environmental challenge and change through strengthened cooperation and reproduction strategies.
Prosocial behavior is one such strategy.
Wolves, whose descendants are the lovable canines many of us consider vital to our human pack, are highly sociable creatures who live in packs and have developed distinct roles within their group for mutual protection and survival. Prosocial behavior in wolves is more prominent than prosocial behavior in domesticated dogs because wolves require cooperation for survival in the wild. When domesticated dogs display prosocial behavior, ancestral genetics are likely in play. The idea of a "lone wolf" is out of sync with who they are essentially - socially bound.
For humans, it's like an avocation. Just moonlighting. Prosocial behavior among humans is any social behavior that benefits society as a whole. Caring, empathy, generosity, compassion, patience, kindness, sharing benefits, creativity, loss, and burdens are prosocial behaviors. Individual pursuits are seen in the context of the good of the whole, not as one-upmanship, bullying, or domination at any cost. Prosocial behavior is what we require right now, in the throes of geopolitical instability, rampant authoritarian abuse, environmental collapse, and the removal of safety nets for human rights and dignity. Seems we've gone to the dogs.
Dogs do not normally eat dogs, but they don't have romantic liaisons in the moonlight over spaghetti and meatballs, either. The spaghetti-slurping canines immortalized in an iconic Disney scene produced 70 years ago (The Lady and the Tramp, 1955), appealed to our soft spot for opposites that attract. A renegade male terrier mix, Tramp, homeless, itinerant, scrappy, and adorably scruffy, finds his way into the affection and confidence of a family-beloved female cocker spaniel, Lady. Running for her life, she finds solace (and a bit of moonlight romance?) in the thrall of the irresistible mutt. Without belaboring the feasibility of the anthropomorphized canine couple, there has been a certain fascination repeated by countless memes that memorialize the love affair between the pampered pooch from the "right" side of town, and the one who scavenges for food and shelter each night from the other side. And it's not just "opposites attract." It's the energy of "improbable" and "possible" held in tension on either end of a thin strand of spaghetti.
In the 21st c., when the "haves" rule by force, environmental injustice threatens the welfare of the "have-nots," who bear the disproportionate adverse affects of environmental degradation, including limited access to green space and a steady diet of toxic air, soil, and water. We are bullying the "have-nots" into toxic corners. The "haves" enjoy access to the healthiest, most pristine natural places in the biosphere. Those who can afford homes, occupations, vacations and leisure in the most robust, healthy areas of the planet cannibalize their fellow humans who languish in squalid cesspools of toxic waste with their families dying of related diseases. In a classic "Lady & the Tramp" meme, it's as if Lady were to scarf all the spaghetti and meatballs, and alert the dog-catcher, leaving Tramp without a lick of sauce to sustain him.
Today, we are experiencing a crisis of competing narratives about who "We" are as a whole, and how we relate with one another primarily, bullies operating at the expense of the weak, or compassionately, as collaborators who adapt well to adversity together. Is ruthless bullying the winning narrative?
What story we tell ourselves in the moonlight matters.
If collaboration is too improbable to be the underlying narrative that compels us to compassionate action for the good of all, maybe dogs do eat dogs after all.
I hope not. Pass the spaghetti and (plant-based) meatballs.