Preface

I expect this book to be controversial. Of the six readers who reviewed it for the MIT Press, half hated it and half were enthusiastic. The former group consisted of people with a scientific background, the latter group of philosophers. It seems reasonable to predict a similar division (not to say divisiveness) among readers going forward. I don’t think this in itself is a bad thing. The book is certainly quirky, speculative, and unorthodox. As they say, it pushes the envelope. I give my imagination a freer rein than usual—too much for some people, perhaps.

I am not an expert in human evolution or anatomy or archaeology. I have never even touched a human fossil. My knowledge of these fields is strictly that of a layman. What I have done is combine an amateur knowledge of the science with a philosophical slant (in which I do claim some expertise). I keep the science basic and general, though I hope not naïve. I use the science as a springboard for speculation. This is certainly not a textbook on human evolution or hand physiology. It is an essay in philosophical anthropology—general reflections on the nature of humankind from an evolutionary perspective.

I have pitched it at roughly the level of Richard Dawkins’s The Selfish Gene. That book seeks to conceptualize, organize, and dramatize the scientific facts, and is philosophical to that degree. It is also written for the general reader, not the specialist (though it is certainly of interest to a specialist). I have attempted something similar here, though my efforts are a pale shadow of that brilliant book. This book is directed to general readers and philosophers (though scientists more given to speculation might get something out of it). My procedure tends to be “rational reconstruction”: seeing how things might have been, seeing what is intelligible. Empirical verification is another matter, a very difficult one given the distances of time and lack of concrete evidence. Yes, I am telling stories, though stories rooted in science, and intended seriously.

The human hand plays a central role in the story I tell. One of my aims here is to make us think about something we tend to take for granted: the importance of the hand in nearly all of our endeavors. I even wax a bit poetic about it in places. I approach the hand from multiple directions—anatomically, functionally, emotionally, cognitively, artistically, and philosophically. This is, in part, a hymn to the hand. Touching, not seeing, gripping, not witnessing: hence my title. This perspective is by no means original to me: many thinkers have recognized the importance of the hand and have written eloquently about it. I am simply continuing that tradition, adding a point here and there.

Human evolution is still shrouded in mystery in many ways, and there may even be limits to what we can expect to explain. Still, a picture emerges that is both chastening and uplifting—a possible way things could have been, and may actually have been. I certainly don’t claim to have the full picture. But even the sketch is worth making, with all due modesty. What I seek to provide here is a philosopher’s take on the sketch that has emerged since Darwin’s The Descent of Man. It is a mixture of biology, anthropology, psychology, analytical philosophy, existential philosophy, sheer speculation, and utter amazement. I hope the reader will forgive my sometimes exuberant style and neglect of some of the scientific details (when I think the details don’t affect the big picture). This is less a scholarly tome than a dithyramb to the powers of evolution in general and the human hand in particular. And it is not afraid to go out on a limb (an apt metaphor, given the emphasis on trees).

Colin McGinn

September 2014