Baseball Bats and Dominance Hierarchies

If you want to understand how power actually works, it helps to start with historians who refused to flatter humanity.

Will and Ariel Durant were not pundits or culture warriors. They were among the most prolific historians of the twentieth century, best known for The Story of Civilization — an eleven-volume attempt to synthesize biology, economics, politics, culture, and philosophy into a single account of human history.

Late in their lives, after decades studying empires rising and collapsing, they published a short book that may be their most important: The Lessons of History.

It should be mandatory reading.

Ideally before adulthood.

Preferably before anyone is allowed near power.

The book opens with a premise so simple—and so uncomfortable—that modern discourse often avoids it entirely:

Human history is not primarily ideological or moral.

It is biological.

The Durants reduce history to three recurring dynamics—forces so fundamental they appear across every culture, political system, and belief structure.

Life is competition: All living organisms compete for resources, safety, and position. This happens at every level: individuals, groups, institutions, and nations. If some individuals appear insulated from competition, it’s because their group competes on their behalf.

Life is selection: Nature favors traits that survive and reproduce. Over time, small advantages compound. Certain individuals and groups rise—not because they are virtuous, but because they are better adapted to the environment they inhabit.

Life must breed: Groups that fail to reproduce—biologically or culturally—decline and are replaced by those that do.

This is not cynicism.

It’s pattern recognition.

Darwinism shows how small advantages accumulate over time, producing feedback loops that resemble compound interest.

Traits that enhance survival propagate.

Traits that don’t disappear.

In networked systems, this produces uneven outcomes. A small number of nodes accumulate disproportionate power, resources, and influence. The majority orbit them.

That’s not cruelty.

That’s structure.

Even our neurochemistry obeys this logic.

Enter the lobster.

Despite being separated from humans by roughly 480 million years of evolution, lobsters share key neurotransmitters—serotonin and octopamine—that regulate confidence, posture, and mood.

When lobsters compete for shelters:

• Both begin with high serotonin: upright posture, confidence, aggression
• They assess one another through displays of strength and vitality
• Eventually, a winner and a loser emerge

The winner’s serotonin remains high.

The loser’s octopamine spikes. Their posture collapses. They avoid future conflict.

Here’s the part people don’t like:

Give the losing lobster Prozac, and it will fight again.

Same hardware.

Same chemistry.

Different species.

Zoom out, and the same feedback loops govern larger social systems.

Horse herds form strict dominance hierarchies. Chickens establish pecking orders. Each individual simultaneously dominates some and submits to others—except those at the very top and bottom.

Corporations are no different.

Senior leaders dominate mid-level leaders.

Mid-level leaders dominate managers.

Managers dominate entry-level workers.

Winners stand taller.

Losers contract.

Those higher in the hierarchy gain proximity to resources—better pay, better neighborhoods, better schools, better healthcare. Those lower adapt accordingly.

No memo required.

Brains already know where they are.

These dominance hierarchies and neurochemical feedback loops form the hardware layer of society.

They are ancient.

They are automatic.

They are indifferent to intention.

They keep people—and economies—moving.

But biology alone doesn’t explain everything.

For that, we need to examine the software layer: media, symbols, incentives, and narratives.

Continue to Why is the Medium the Message.