Book reeview: The Science of Love and Betrayal

They are perennial questions: Why do fools fall in love? Why do birds sing so gay?

The linking of both questions in the lyrics was a prescient move by Frankie Lymon when he first sang the song back in 1956.

It turns out the birds have a lot to teach us about mating strategies and reasons for “pairbonding”. And while different species have evolved different habits for different reasons – and with different consequences – how birds, chimpanzees or even goats get it on provides the meat feeding plausible theories about why humans fall in love, with whom, and whether it is a good idea – or if we are just merely fooling ourselves.

Robin Dunbar, an eminent professor of evolutionary anthropology, has attempted to answer these questions in an informative yet sparkling read that unites the science and poetry of love – and its opposite.

Dip into Dunbar’s book and you come across the research that has become fodder for the sort of headlines found in racy tabloids. Such nuggets include discussions on supermodels: the analysis of face shape reveals that they have similar features to those of seven-year-olds, because youthfulness is deemed attractive. Or perhaps you’ll remember hearing the one about how 70 per cent of us meet our future partners through friends or family. Or there is the “wedding ring effect”, which describes studies that show how women are more attracted to men who find approval with other women. Or how about the study where hugs have been shown to reduce levels of cortisol, thus reducing stress. Or that men, particulary young men, display “avoidant” behaviour when it comes to romance, while women feel rejection more deeply. Most of these statistical truths seem familiar already, but Dunbar places them within their scientific contexts.

But before you dip in, the whole project could be cause to worry – will reading the book lift the lid on the workings of our most intimate relationships, turning the fluffy bunnies of love into the tortured lab rabbits of science?

That depends on how satisfied you are with evolutionary anthropologists’ understanding of behaviour. It can be compelling. Where previous claims about hunter gatherers, for example, had it that the big game hunters – who were male – sustained the community’s needs with their kills, more recent research has shown that more calories were contributed by the female gatherers. So if it is women who sustain the tribe, what is the evolutionary reason for men going off hunting? According to Dunbar, the men were showing off, their prowess a tool to attract women.

Who would not be touched by the behaviour of the tiny Klipspringer antelope? These are among the most monogamous animals on the planet and they are never further than a few feet away from each other. While she feeds, he waits, and vice versa. Of course, the main reason for this is an evolved method of avoiding getting eaten, but don’t let that kill your romantic streak.

Then there is the fascinating references to a study of 18th- and 19th-century parish records of the Krummhörn, on Germany’s coast. Using these, relating to what Dunbar calls a “natural fertility population”, demonstrates what motivates women to choose men (money and resources), or the average number of children you would have without medical interventions or birth control (five).

But these vignettes should set of warning signals, as most such studies demonstrate how Dunbar’s field backs up what many perceive to be old-fashioned notions of sexual mores. Monogamy, as an evolutionary strategy, does allow men to be involved in the raising of offspring, but mainly evolved so that women could find a protector – the “hired gun” theory. This means women need men more than the opposite. Take that thought home for discussion.

The book’s overarching theme is that, in the animal kingdom, it is all about mating strategy. Towards the end of Dunbar’s disquisition, when the prose becomes less lucid and more scientific, this is relentless. It goes without saying that this focus eliminates analysis of complex human behaviours, like homosexuality. And while the book encompasses everything from feral goats to Facebook, Dunbar does not even mention alternatives to procreative sex, a massive oversight for any book about love. Dunbar spends much of the book explaining why a breathtaking number of studies spanning psychology, neuro-imaging and anthropology won’t destroy the “magic” of love. And they don’t.

But nor do they encompass the whole of love, which is disappointing.

The Science of Love and Betrayal

By Robin Dunbar

Faber & Faber, 320pp, £12.99