Blah, Blah, Blah

…in which Uncle Duke decries the hum of voices.

 

             I’m not sure communication is all it’s cracked up to be.  I mean it drives a huge industry and allows us to talk to each other at any hour of the day or night and provides us with mountains of information, but I can’t figure out what it really gains us.  We send up communication satellites and build tremendous transmission towers to provide us with instantaneous news, unlimited scores and up-to-the-minute weather and stock prices.  But I’m not convinced our lives are really any better on account of it.  To the contrary, my position is that life has pretty much gone steadily down hill since the development of language.

 

             Language by the way is a fairly recent skill.  There is some argument between the archeologists and the anthropologists, but they do agree that we’ve only learned to speak within the last 10,000 generations or so.  Some argue that we began to develop language around 250,000 years ago.  That’s about the time our brains began to expand, or rather certain parts of it began to expand differentially, including the part that controls language.  Others argue that we didn’t develop language until the Upper Paleolithic, as recently as 50,000 years ago.  That date corresponds to a drastic change in our tool making capabilities.  They reason that only language would have precipitated these refinements.  I’m not sure I care.  In any case it was not that long ago.  We have not been giving sermons and speeches and seminars since we became a species.  We walked, hunted, gathered, cooked with fire and raised offsprings for thousands and thousands of years without the benefit of language.

 

             Prior to that we used gestural communication.  Our postures defined our moods.  Our facial expressions described our disposition.   We expressed all manners of emotions without speech.  We spoke with our bodies and we listened with our eyes.

 

             We also listened with our noses.  Our bodies smell differently when we are in different emotional states.  There are chemical changes.  It used to be that we could distinguish subtle mood changes and shifts in attitude with our sense of smell.  It was the ultimate lie detector.  You’ve no doubt heard that wild animals can smell fear?  So could we.  Also anger, resentment, envy, affection and a willingness to mate.   Our glands don’t lie.  They still don’t, but we can’t smell them anymore.  We’re lucky if we can still smell burnt toast.  Our acute sense of smell was the first victim of language.

 

            Primates, our closest relative in the animal world, do not speak.  Or at least they have limited vocabularies.  Yet they have elaborate social structures and lead rich, full lives.  They forage, migrate, couple, squabble and even have some pretty acceptable little wars.  All without the benefit of language.

 

            Primates spend about 20% of their waking hours in the business of grooming and being groomed.  It is a process of cleaning, de-licing, removing dead skin, picking nits and fleas.  More importantly, it is a process of forming bonds and communicating affection and trust.  When we are being groomed, it triggers the release of endogenous opiates.  These are the chemicals which spur all of our addictions.  This is the bliss we seek in obscure and mostly destructive ways.  This is why women fall in love with their hairdressers.

 

            Twenty percent!  Let’s say they’re awake 12 hours.  That’s about 2 1/2 hours being touched, stroked, coddled, attended to.  Imagine 2 1/2 hours a day giving and receiving sensual massage.  I cannot imagine such a world.  It is a world of contentment and subjective well-being.  It is a world to-die-for.  If this was the price for language, we were ripped off.  It was a raw deal.   I’ll take the body hair and the fleas any day.  I’d live in a cave, drink muddy water and eat snails.  It is a vastly better world than the one we have created.  You can have the fiber optics and the faxes.  Just give me a woman who’ll pick ticks off me.

 

             We do certainly have a tremendous impulse to converse with each other, to stay in touch.   We have learned to use the technology.  People in crowded stores surrounded by people are on phones speaking to people in other crowded stores somewhere.  Wealth seems to be a factor here.  The more expensive the car, the more likely that the driver will be on the phone.  Apparently these individuals are chock-full of information and are needed to dispense it on a full-time basis.  There is a certain implied arrogance about people on car phones, a certain signal that they are indispensable.  Even beepers signify that that person has the answers to someone else’s questions and must always be accessible.  I am glad for them, I guess.  Even a little envious.  No one is waiting to hear what I have to say.  I do not have underlings in line for my direction.   I do not need call waiting.  I have never even been e-mailed.  Most of the calls I get begin:  “Hello, William.  And how are you this evening?”

 

             Which is fine with me actually.  I confess I was raised in the less-is-more tradition of communication.  My father was not an overly communicative man.  He practiced a form of economy which held on to his nickels and words pretty tightly.  It was the standard male model of the time.  He always told my mother:  “Listen to what I do, not what I say.”  She came from the same tradition and understood that.  She had the patience to listen between the lines, and it was enough for her.

  

             I know he never told me out loud that he loved me.  Yet I never doubted it.  It was obvious to me.  Though I am more verbal than he was and tell my family that I love them on a regular basis, I’m not sure that they feel any more loved than we did.

 

             In the end there are many levels of communication.  So I suppose I should not say that I am opposed to communication.  Communication is a good thing.  You can quote me.  I should rather say that I’m not sure that speech and electronics do much to enhance our communication on the most fundamental levels.  The sound of our own voices may in fact be a terrible distraction to hearing what we or anyone else have to say to each other.   Amidst the digital hum of trillions of bits of information, it is difficult to distinguish the trivial from the important.   Among the questions about how to manipulate the numbers and maneuver the information highways, we lose track of the more profound questions.  A keyboard and the entire body of world knowledge are worthless without self-worth.  Communication systems, or cultures, that overlook this are missing the point.