Omnivorous readers make suspect writers. Recollection of detail is skeptical. Context of sketchy facts is confused. Trust, but verify. Such may be the case here.
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A recent article appeared in the WSJ on Edward O. Wilson. Not a household name, even after achieving two Pulitzer Prizes, one for a book on ants. He presented a shocking revelation of the future of humankind.
Wilson is a noted scientist, evolutionist and ecologist. He’s also a revered entomologist. He studies ants. He apparently prefers these tiny creatures to humans, having once opined that the problem with humanity is, “Paleolithic emotions, medieval institutions and god-like technology.”
He speculates that ants are the planet’s last survivors. At the rate things are going, who can argue? He gives many reasons. Not the least of which is that ant colonies consist mostly of females.
That’s right, females. Armies of females do the work, find the food, serve the queen. The males? They’re relegated to the lowly role of ‘agents of propagation.’ So the article said.
This sheds a whole new light on evolution. Men suppose they’re the apotheosis of all creation. But ants, the ultimate survivors of the planet, are organized with a radically different social structure.
It’s easy to drift into a swoon of science fiction possibilities. What if this hypothesis were true? How would our culture be changed? Females totally running things. Males simply ‘agents of propagation?’ It’s enough to cause cold night sweats.
There’s the world of male ego to consider. Would it disappear in a great sucking sound as it’s subsumed into the stolid world of household chores? Would it languish, home-bound, watching Rachel cook and Judge Judy adjudicate? Would shopping and changing diapers really support male self-conceit? The horror, the horror.
Imagine household cleanliness. Can men operate vacuums? Wash clothes? Iron blouses? Sew buttons? Polish silver? Comprehend recipes? Clean toilets? No man is cut out for such work. Cooking anything more than pork and beans is too much to ask.
Car pools. Think of the possible damage done by men being in vehicles with screaming school children, waiting in line to drop off/pick up every day. And homework. Do men have the patience? Can you picture the Men’s Morning Out group at the local church?
No! Propagation is the solution. Men are especially suited for this line of work. First of all it requires no fore thought, no advance warning, no warm-up, no intelligence, no circumspection, no flowers, no ‘fore’ anything. Nothing changes. Volunteers for conscription are plentiful.
The reversal of roles would forever alter the course of human nature. Science fiction would become reality. Are we ready for this?
Then there was the time I took a nap on a large boulder in the yard. Hundreds of large black ants began to crawl on my body, up my pants, in my hair, on my face, in my nose and consorting in the canyons of my ears. I felt their female caress. My body was the day’s prey.
It was a curious experiment on my part. Black ants don’t sting. Had I known this particular search party was an army of females, I might have changed my mind. Trusting females with your body is a bad bet.
Their curiosity lasted only a few minutes. They decided I was either too big to cart back, or I didn’t meet the queen’s criteria. They left as they came, this army of black female ants, crawling off for another carcass. I was left with that let-down feeling I always got in high school…always being spurned by females is a terrible thing to endure.
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Maybe being an ‘agent of propagation’ is not such a bad thing after all. At least men can continue to utilize their Paleolithic emotions for a good cause. Wishful thinking and delusional dreaming are not that far apart.
Bud Hearn
May 16, 2014
Illustrations Courtesy of Leslie Hearn
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