Kensy Cooperrider has an interesting piece in Aeon about aspects of human perception trending towards globalised standards.
For centuries, Inuit hunters navigated the Arctic by consulting wind, snow and sky. Now they use GPS. Speakers of the aboriginal language Gurindji, in northern Australia, used to command 28 variants of each cardinal direction. Children there now use the four basic terms, and they don’t use them very well. In the arid heights of the Andes, the Aymara developed an unusual way of understanding time, imagining the past as in front of them, and the future at their backs. But for the youngest generation of Aymara speakers – increasingly influenced by Spanish – the future lies ahead.
These are not just isolated changes. On all continents, even in the world’s remotest regions, indigenous people are swapping their distinctive ways of parsing the world for Western, globalised ones. As a result, human cognitive diversity is dwindling – and, sadly, those of us who study the mind had only just begun to appreciate it.
In 2010, a paper titled ‘The Weirdest People in the World?’ gave the field of cognitive science a seismic shock. Its authors, led by the psychologist Joe Henrich at the University of British Columbia, made two fundamental points. The first was that researchers in the behavioural sciences had almost exclusively focused on a small sliver of humanity: people from Western, educated, industrialised, rich, democratic societies. The second was that this sliver is not representative of the larger whole, but that people in London, Buenos Aires and Seattle were, in an acronym, WEIRD.
Although it will probably not be a surprise to anyone, the whole piece is well worth reading. It is not easy to avoid at least one conclusion. If basic human perception trends towards global standard perceptions then the long term consequences are likely to be profound indeed.
3 comments:
"For centuries, Inuit hunters navigated the Arctic by consulting wind, snow and sky. Now they use GPS"
An acquaintance of mine who lives in the South Downs was approached by one of his friends who works in the city.
"Nigel, are you using your paddock at the moment? A colleague of mine wants to helicopter down from London to Goodwood near you, to attend the Festival of Speed. He can park his copter at Goodwood but they charge an arm and a leg - so could he land on your paddock and then I'll collect him in the car?
Nigel said that was fine, and waited for the rich colleague to ring and make arrangements.
The guy phoned Nigel. He arranged a time of arrival, and said to tether - very firmly- a big bright golfing umbrella at the side of the paddock so it could be seen from the air. He then asked for directions.
Nigel went into a lengthy and detailed description of the terrain as he would imagine it would look from the air. "You'll be able to see the railway line quite clearly, and you'll need to head for the bit where it passes by the creek. North of there, the ground rises a couple of hundred feet, and then you'll need to locate the edge of the big pine plantation which tapers towards our house. From there..."
"Never mind all that", said the rich bloke. "We just use satnav now. What's your postcode?"
I really am going backwards these days...
If I want to call anyone, I just shout louder! Seems to work!
And I only make four mobile calls a year 'to keep the line open' according to O2! They last a few seconds, each of which is paid for under a use-only contract!
Sam - "amazing," said Nigel, "the satnav must make flying the helicopter easier."
"Sod that," said rich bloke, "I have an app to fly the thing."
Scrobs - I've never counted but I don't think I make four mobile calls a year. Sounds a lot.
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