In live Tweeting from today’s Neuroanthropology discussion, we were joined online by anthropological primatologists Katie Hinde, Julianne Rutherford, & Amanda Dettmer. Apropos of a comment by a classmate, Lauren Nolan pointed out studies suggesting that prenatal glucocorticoid exposure supposedly programmed those individuals to be more anxious. I thought about the role ritualized stress in the form of speaking in tongues seems to play in exercising (not exorcising) the homeostatic system so that the activation threshold is higher & wondered if prenatal exposure might actually habituate the infant.
does glucocorticoid exposure in utero increase reactivity of infant or habituate it to stress? #neuroanthropology
This gave me some reading to do while I walked the dog. Seriously, technology is wonderful. I looked up the Parker & Lyons work Amanda mentioned, found a 2010 review by Parker available as open access PDF, downloaded it to the vBookz app on my phone, & a robot voice read the article to me while I walked my husky.
The gist of these data is that early exposure to reasonable stress (e.g., temporary separation from mom) is associated with lower stress reactivity later on. A person literally embodies, “I can handle shit.”
And it got me thinking about some of the stress biomarker research we’ve done. We found an inoculation effect in adults getting tattooed. We measured salivary immunoglobulin A before & after tattooing sessions & found those with more tattoo experience had less of a pre-post SIgA decrease. My master’s student Johnna Dominguez is currently writing these data up for her thesis, a presentation at HBA 2015, & a publication manuscript. I wonder, does this inoculation extend to other areas of experience? Is there change in the prefrontal cortical areas observed in the squirrel monkey studies because one knows one can endure the pain of tattooing?
In class the other day, I had students stick their hands in ice water to demonstrate our adaptation to cold & measured stress response using skin conductance. Most found it excruciating & rated the pain rather high. A few of us found it painful but had experienced worse & so did not react in as extreme a way nor rate the pain as high. Was the sensation the same? I don’t know. Maybe plastic changes in our brains based on our previous experiences had moderated our response AND the physical sensation.
I see more tattoo research in my future. Anyone have access to an MRI machine & want to help me stick tattooed people in it?
In my previous research that I mentioned at the beginning, I found that people with more glossolalia (tongue-speaking) experience had lower cortisol on non-worship days than those with less experience, suggesting the culturally moderated stressor of worship inoculates worshippers against daily stress outside worship contexts to some extent. The developmental aspects of the primate studies has me wondering if there is a difference between those who grew up in the church—i.e., experienced the culturally moderated stress developmentally—& those who joined it as adults with regard to how effective the inoculation is. I wonder if that information is in my data…?
To get us started on this blog thing, I want to give everyone a short practice assignment that will give you the opportunity to play with the bells & whistles of WordPress & for us all to get to know a little bit more about each other.
This assignment is due by midnight this coming Tuesday. That way we’ll have the time to read about each other before our next class. By the way, when you start seeing everyone else’s posts, be sure to subscribe to them, so you get our witticisms delivered post haste directly to your inbox.
I want you to put a little effort into this assignment but not a lot. It should take you longer than 15 minutes but not more than a few hours, depending on how define “little effort.” You’ll see what I mean below.
Here’s the assignment:
Remember Tinbergen’s 4 “Why” questions I mentioned in class? Niko Tinbergen was a Nobel Prize-winning biologist who made immense contributions to the field of “ethology” or behavioral science. Ethology is the observation of behaviors “in nature,” as it were. Specifically, animals don’t do much talking, so the best we can really do to understand their behavior is to sit & watch them. A lot. For a long time. Zoo animals are all fucked up & high on psychopharmaceuticals (which makes them actually pretty good analogs for a lot of us, though maybe better analogs for minimum security prisoners–think of them the inmates from Orange is the New Black, which, according to my father-in-law, who used to run the commissary in a minimum security prison in New York, is actually a pretty accurate representation), so understanding evolved behaviors is best done in a natural environment. You can do this with humans too, but it’s called being a creepy stalker. I assign students the task of being creepy stalkers in some of my classes, & it’s quite fun.
Anyway, Tinbergen recognized that there are four different biological explanation for any behavior or four different answers for “why” an organism does something.
Historical (evolutionary or phylogenetic): The ancestors of the organism did that, which it inherited.
Proximal (cause/effect): An outside cause triggers that behavior.
Developmental (ontogenetic): It is a developmentally appropriate thing to do at the age of the organism.
Functional (physiological): There are internal biological “mechanisms” or the evolved capacity to do the behavior.
I want you to apply the 4 why questions to a hobby you have or something you do besides this school thing that you’re proud of & is reflective of the inner you AND to tell us about the cultural basis of the hobby. It can be current or past, but it should be something that gives us some insight into your personality. Oh, & post a photo of yourself that’s better (or at least different) than the one I already. In fact, post a photo of you doing the thing you’re proud of.
I’ll tell you about me to give you an idea of what I’m looking for. I used to play in bands. I actually worked in music distribution, so it wasn’t so much my hobby as my life. But I got a little turned around in my early 20s because it was supposed to have been a hobby. I got really into music during my first stint in college (I was a college dropout & came back later to anthropology & grad school & all that), moved to NYC, went to school for audio engineering & recording because I didn’t know how else to get more involved in music, & sort of fell into working in record stores & playing in a band. My best friend from high school had moved to NYC & suggested we start a band. I owned a bass that I could barely play, he owned a microphone, & he knew guys who plucked at a guitar & a guy who played jazz drums. So that’s how we started realizing this dream.
I played in garage punk bands, which is a very specific little subculture, with its own fanzines, radio stations, clubs, & look. It’s a very Euro-American cultural development, though there are a lot of Japanese garage punk bands & a few from here & there around the world, but mostly the developed world. I worked in the music industry, wrote for fanzines, collected records, ad nauseum, so it was a fully immersed cultural experience that still resonates with me in interesting ways. I have more or less maintained myself within that cultural model ever since. The tattoos (even the style of the tattoos), the handlebar mustache, the earrings, the grease in my hair–all parts of my style today I would associate with a garage-punk subculture. I still have a physiological response to music that I like, to playing music (one of my bands reunited a few years ago, so I got to relive the thrill), & prefer talking to people from that walk of life. I still listen to the same style of music in my office when I’m composing lectures & collect it (I used to be a vinyl collector but stick with mp3s now). I “come alive” when I’m talking that talk. I can’t say I exactly understand the nature of the feeling, but it’s definitely something different than the ordinary & it’s definitely biologically based. Let me see if I can break it down a little.
Phylogenetically: Well, comparatively speaking, none of our closest living relatives shows signs of playing in garage-punk bands, so we have to step back & think about preadaptations. We see plenty of evidence, especially in birds, of music playing a significant role in communication & genetic signaling. Birds use songs (both the style & pitch) to communicate relevant information about territoriality & such. A little phylogenetically closer, pair-bonded gibbons duet together. Mother’s universally talk to babies in sing-songy voices Dean Falk has referred to as “motherese.”
And playing in a band deserves parsing out, because the music is only part of it. The performance is important too. I’d say I loved practicing with my band most because the social synchronization was almost palpable. To be attuned to other people & able to nonverbally follow their precision behaviors is a powerful thing. By that I mean that, when the drummer slowed down his beat, I (as bass player) could follow along & slow down too (sometimes–other times I honestly might’ve been too drunk to notice). So, yeah, we also did a lot of…other things together, things that induce altered states of consciousness (if you know what I mean) that have been found to break down cognitive boundaries & enable people to take perspectives normal consciousness does not otherwise afford. Sharing novel alterations of consciousness can really bond people, & I have never gotten as close to anyone besides my wife & kids as I did to the 3 guys in my first band & our extended family. Phylogenetically, all social species have intensive experiences that bond them together & lead to trust. Intense experiences with non-kin create bonds that are like those you have with close kin, which have developed because they have seen you in vulnerable states & continue to associate with you, forgive you for them, like you better for them, have shown you their vulnerability, etc.
Finally, being in a band signals something potentially genetic. Evolutionary psychologist Geoffrey Miller suggests the arts signal an ability to be cognitively flexible, to rise to unique occasions & creatively overcome adversity. This is an attractive feature in a mate that likely has a genetic basis, at least in part. Being in a band may also demonstrate a willingness to put oneself out there. I know that I felt there was a dynamic, exuberant person inside me that most people didn’t see & that I wanted to be able to show. So, onstage, I dressed like a jackass, screamed into the mic (like a jackass), & jumped around (like a jackass). Sometimes I also carried a tune. It was so much fun. And it was so validating when people would say, “you’re like a totally different person up there–it’s rather bizarre to see” because that’s the side that completed me. I knew myself to be what I am every day & that person. Frankly, it is what I miss most about being in a band, though I tend to prowl a classroom somewhat like I am in a garage band again.
Proximally: This one is much simpler. Being in a band is cool. I wanted to be cool, so I learned to be in a band. I didn’t learn to play music–I learned to be in a band. I can’t read music. I can’t really pick out tunes. I can write tunes but only on the bass. I couldn’t tell you how to play them. If you can play guitar or something, you can follow along with the songs I invent. My guitar player or drummer would write whole songs, meaning all the parts, & teach me mine. I would write bass parts & lyrics & let the guitar player & drummer come up with their own parts. So I don’t consider myself a musician. I couldn’t “jam” with you. I can only play the songs I learned to play for my bands. But I can manage a band. I can book practice. I can book a tour. I can get a record deal & put together a record. Between the two bands that released recordings, I think I have 5 albums out & one on the way. One whole unreleased album is still sitting in the can. And we put out a whole buncha 7″s & comp tracks. So I know the mechanisms of being in a band, but I’m not a musician; & I learned it because people thought it was cool & I wanted to be cool. Ironically, figuring all that out & being relatively successful at it is what gave me the confidence to go back to school, get a PhD, & become a professor.
Developmental: Wanting to be cool is a developmental stage. Preening for female attention is a developmental stage. It worked. I met my wife by being in my band. She was dating the guy who put our records out, & he hosted a showcase for his bands. Fortunately, he was a forgiving kind of guy & they were only casually dating. Anyway, at a certain point, external validation meant a lot toward my developing ego. Then, as I established myself in life (wife/kids) & career, it has come to mean less. Biologically, we know that the increase in testosterone production in males around puberty propels that desire for external validation, particularly from those who interest us sexually. We also know that having kids & getting older influences a decline in testosterone & increase in oxytocin & vasopressin & things that make us less motivated by ambition & more motivated to bond & nurture. Now, I put my energy & other resources into helping my kids ready themselves for preening. I just picked up a stand-up bass for one of my sons, who has signed up for strings in middle school. I am so excited!
Functionally: As humans, we are uniquely capable of the physiological coordination I mentioned earlier, not just to synchronize ourselves musically with conspecifics, but with ourselves. We have the hand-eye-vocal coordination to push down certain strings with one hand, strum a rhythm with another, sing, & jump around. This is not easy to do, & we have to be wired with that capacity. For instance, we cannot move all our toes independent of each other like we can our fingers because our toes are neurologically wired together (go ahead, try to move your second toes without the others moving–can’t do it, can you?). Your pinky is somewhat wired with your ring finger, but other apes don’t have that much dexterity in their hands. We have exquisite fine motor skills in our hands because of a density of neural tissue in the brain dedicated to that digital independence & sensitivity. If you look at the sensorimotor regions of the brain, you can see that the regions in our brains dedicated to those regions are relatively large.
Furthermore, we have a more dynamic vocal range than many other species, &, of course, language gives us special capacities in this regard not shared by any other species. I don’t think the jumping around like a jackass is particularly special, but it is pretty cool when it happens on the beat. If you want to see the quintessence of this, watch this footage of James Brown from the 1960s on the T.A.M.I. show.
Remember I talked about people with God & the Devil battling in them? This is what it looks when it’s been synchronized & outfitted in some badass threads.
Now it’s your turn. If you’ve never done a blog post, do a separate blog post. If you’ve done a blog post before, you can do yours as a comment below mine, unless it doesn’t let you post photos. Sometimes comments don’t allow photos easily. Have fun & email me with any questions.
In the recent biography of Johnny Cash, The Life, (which is great, btw), author Robert Hilburn notes that this song/video are his greatest embarrassment. It’s no “Hurt,” but I friggin’ love it! We’ll start the course by dissecting it. Bring your scalpels & brain probes.