Of Beards and Men: The Revealing History of Facial Hair (2 page)

Beginning with Charles Darwin himself, evolutionary theorists have pondered the origins of the beard. In
The Descent of Man
(1871), Darwin described a process of sexual selection that operates in tandem with natural selection in shaping the course of human development. Natural selection changes a species by favoring individuals with traits that enhance their chances of survival and procreation. When it comes to procreation, however, there is another level of selection as individuals within a species compete with one another for the favor of sexual partners. Darwin reckoned that, for the purposes of this competition, animals evolved many secondary sexual characteristics that functioned either as weapons to defeat sexual rivals, such as horns or tusks, or as ornaments to attract potential mates, such as colored hair and feathers. Individuals with the more appealing ornaments or stronger weapons would succeed in reproducing themselves and propagating their distinctive traits. Darwin assigned the human beard to the category of ornament, and imagined that it had the power to attract women.
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Over the millennia, the theory goes, bearded men were more successful in procreation than their smoother competitors, and the human beard evolved into its present form. In short, men now have beards because our prehistoric female ancestors liked them.

But Darwin saw a problem with this idea. Anthropologists of his day reported that human populations varied widely in the fullness of the male beard. It was believed that Native Americans, for example, were nearly incapable of growing them. Darwin surmised that some ancestral women in some particular places must not have liked the beard and because of that prejudice continually selected against it. That is, the beard functioned as an ornament only among peoples who in fact considered it to be an ornament. To help resolve this conundrum, Darwin invoked still another evolutionary process: the inheritance of acquired characteristics. Before Darwin, Jean Baptiste Lamarck had argued that species change over time by passing along newly acquired traits to their offspring. If a giraffe, for example, spends a lifetime stretching its neck to reach food in the treetops, its progeny will be born with longer necks. Though many a schoolteacher or professor might dismiss the the inheritance of acquired characteristics as un-Darwinian, Darwin repeatedly invoked this this principle in
The Descent of Man
, and did
so again on the matter of beards. Noting anthropological observations of peoples who were relentless in plucking unwanted facial hair, and referring to (very dubious) experiments that appeared to show that surgical alterations in animals could be passed on to the next generation, he concluded that “it is also possible that the long-continued habit of eradicating the hair may have produced an inherited effect.”
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In other words, men who cut or pulled their facial hair would beget boys who grew less facial hair as adults. The inheritance of acquired characteristics thereby completed a process begun by sexual selection, leaving some groups of men with great thick beards and others with almost none. This analysis assigned women a great deal of influence over beard evolution: they chose more or less bearded men according to their tastes, and men plucked their hairs to accommodate them, which in turn led to permanent physiological changes.

By making the evolution of beards a matter of taste rather than survival, however, Darwin failed to provide a truly Darwinian explanation, that is to say, an answer based on the process of natural selection. In fact, his tactic raised more questions that it answered. What made the beard a strongly attractive ornament for some but loathsome to others? If it was simply a matter of taste, why were the passions it stirred strong enough to cause some prehistoric women reject would-be mates? Was it simply a matter of vanity? In the face of such questions, evolutionary biologists after Darwin had their work cut out for them.

As it now stands, theorists have proposed three basic solutions to the beard conundrum. The simplest, which Darwin himself considered and rejected, is that beards have no purpose at all. Accidents happen in evolution as in everything else. A gene preferred in natural selection for, say, its role in making the skin more resilient, may have the secondary effect, not in itself significant, of giving that skin a certain color. The difficulty in discerning any obvious survival value in facial hair makes it a possible example of this phenomenon. But most scientists have been reluctant to let it rest there. For one thing, insignificance is an unprovable supposition. It is impossible to say for certain that beards are simply along for the ride, at least not until all the functions of all the human genome are discovered. Scientists seek reasons for things, after all, and it is far more interesting to suppose that beards serve a purpose, obscure though it may be.

A second possible solution builds on Darwin’s idea that beards are ornaments that charmed prehistoric women and can presumably still charm women today. Adherents of this line of thought have worked to replace Darwin’s reliance on vague notions of taste with more concrete psychological and biological explanations for women’s preferences. A third theory takes the opposite approach, arguing that hair is a threat device useful in intimidating rival males and establishing dominance. Women, then, have been attracted, not to the beard as such, but rather to the social dominance that impressively bearded men achieve over other men.

The challenge for scientists is to figure out ways to test these competing theories. How can one tell if the beard functioned in the evolutionary past more as a lure to females or as a threat to males? One approach is to observe the role of analogous, sex-related ornamentation in animals—feathers, ruffs, antlers, and so forth. Another is to test male and female reactions to bearded faces to see if there are still echoes of the primitive impulses that motivated our ancestors thousands of years ago.

Darwin’s beard-as-ornament theory has found significant scientific affirmation over the years. One adherent is evolutionary psychologist Nancy Ectoff, who argues that the pursuit of a good-looking partner is “a universal part of human experience,” one that “provokes pleasure, rivets attention, and impels actions that help ensure the survival of our genes.”
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Ectoff and others who study physical attraction have found abundant evidence that men are attracted to certain physical attributes in women. Male predilection for blondes, for example, has been demonstrated by psychological experiments time and time again. So too has a preference for high hip-to-waist ratios, as well as high cheekbones and large eyes. Women, by contrast, seem less likely to base their judgments of men on physical qualities, and they show less agreement about what the ideal man should look like—other than that he should be tall (though not too tall). Evolutionary theorists generally explain women’s less superficial approach to mating by pointing to the evolutionary
logic of female reproduction. Given a woman’s more limited ability to bear offspring, and her sizable commitment to raising children, it is in her interest to find a man who is helpful and reliable rather than just handsome. This does not mean, however, that looks do not matter. Many studies have found that women take appearance into account, and some women consider physical attractiveness extremely important. Research further indicates that when they do take physical appearance into account, women focus primarily on the face. All this points to reasons why women might value the quality of a man’s beard.

When they look at men’s faces, women may be unconsciously evaluating the genetic quality of potential partners. This idea is suggested by studies of animal behavior. Some species of birds, such as peacocks, develop exaggerated colors or tails because sexual partners prefer them. The longest-tailed peacocks reproduce the most, and over the generations the tails get longer and longer. Why do the females care so much about size and color? Is there something meaningful about these displays, or is it just putting on a show to bamboozle female birdbrains? In 1975 the evolutionary biologist Amotz Zahavi suggested that displays like long feathers are in fact not a lie but an honest advertisement of better genes. According to Zahavi’s “handicap principle,” displays such as oversize feathers or a buck’s broad antlers come at significant physiological cost to their owners in terms of energy and nutrition. Animals that mount an impressive show, then, are demonstrating their health, and thus their desirability as sexual partners.
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In the 1980s, several researchers suggested still another purpose for sex-related displays: signifying resistance to disease. Because an incidence of disease tends to diminish the quality and size of feathers, ruffs, antlers, and so forth, a good display would indicate the male was healthy. A showy male is thus advertising his excellent immune system as well as his success at finding food. The same may be true of beards. Prehistoric women knew a healthy man by his face.

This “good genes” notion was reinforced by hormonal research in the 1990s, when biologists developed the “immunocompetence” theory. According to this idea, not only do big physical features represent good health, they are a direct demonstration of strong immunity to disease, in that the high levels of androgens required for such displays actually
increase
the risk of disease through suppression of the immune system.
Testosterone suppresses the immune system in order to ensure the viability of sperm (which are treated by the body as alien cells); a healthy male with big secondary sex traits (and therefore high levels of testosterone) is, then, even more genetically impressive for his ability to ward off disease with reduced immunity.
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In the animal world, healthy males with big tails, horns, or whatever are in effect saying to females, “Look what I can do with one immunological hand tied behind my back!” Perhaps the human beard is analogous to the tail feather or the antler. It too is a male display generated by testosterone—a billboard of genetic competence. Do women notice? Do they swoon? That’s what many psychologists have tried to find out.

In the past five decades, dozens of experiments have charted impressions and reactions to different sorts of male faces in order to assess stereotypes and biases involved in selecting sexual partners, spouses, employees, or political candidates. All have shed light on the beard-as-ornament theory. There is a nearly unanimous finding that a beard makes a significant difference in both men’s and women’s initial perceptions of a man. A beard almost always made a man appear older and more masculine. But does it also make him more attractive? On this matter, studies have reached contradictory conclusions, depending on the subjects tested and the way the questions were asked. Sometimes the beard was deemed very attractive, sometimes very much not so.

A University of Chicago study published in 1969 established that both men and women found bearded men more attractive than shaved men.
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A few years later, however, students at two other Midwestern universities rated bearded men (in photographs) to be less kind, good, and handsome than beardless men.
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Soon after, undergraduates in Tennessee and California affirmed the original Chicago findings, assigning bearded men higher marks for maturity, sincerity, generosity, and good looks.
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Such contradictory findings inspired researchers at the University of Wyoming to conduct a survey that simply asked undergraduate women straight out whether they preferred men with facial hair. Of the 482 women who filled out a questionnaire, only 17 percent favored beards, while many expressed their outright distaste; about 42 percent liked mustaches.
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By the late 1970s, the count stood at two studies in favor of, and three against, the desirability of beards. This back-and-forth continued
for the next two decades—with a few split decisions. A 1978 experiment involving Canadian undergraduates, for example, found bearded faces rated higher for confidence, intelligence, and happiness, though not likeability.
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In 1984 researchers again reported that young men and women rated bearded faces more likeable and physically attractive.
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A 1990 study that asked 228 professional personnel managers, averaging thirty-one years of age, to judge pictures of six equally qualified male job applicants, found that they deemed bearded men more attractive, more composed, and more competent.
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This was contradicted by a later experiment, published in 2003, in which university undergraduates were asked to evaluate hypothetical job applicants based on resumés and photographs. This time, there was a bias against bearded men, though bearded candidates were deemed only marginally less attractive.
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A study of the perceptions of women at a Kentucky university published in 1996 found an even more negative perception of beards. Faces with beards were rated older, more aggressive, less socially mature, and less attractive.
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By the first decade of the twenty-first century, eight studies had found beards attractive, while eight had found them unattractive. Another two had mixed results. It is safe to say that anyone hoping to find decisive evidence for the beard-as-ornament theory faced frustration. Inconsistent lab results are the product of differing methods and conditions but may also reflect the triumph of nurture over nature, which is to say, our cultural preferences have overwhelmed residual primitive instincts that promoted the evolution of beards. On the other hand, it may simply be that the ornament theory is wrong, and that the beard evolved instead as a social weapon.