Do you say Yuck when you mean Grrr?

kw: book reviews, nonfiction, psychology, emotions

"Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I'm going out and eat worms," my mother used to sing to me when I was peevish. When I was little, it shocked me into silence. Later, I secretly liked it. Eventually, I ignored it. I have never knowingly eaten worms. I have eaten dog. In my mid twenties, one of my housemates was Cuban. He made us a delicious stew one day, then announced it was dog meat. We were a tough bunch of guys, I guess. Nobody hurled. We were mainly curious, where did he get it? From a black-market Vietnamese market in downtown Los Angeles, he told us.

Try this as an experiment. Clean your sink out real well beforehand, then make sure others are watching as you wash some grapes. Let one drop into the sink, seemingly by accident, then pick it out and eat it. How do they react? (This is assuming that you are capable of nonchalantly popping a grape into your mouth that you have just plucked from the sink.) What is it about a kitchen sink that immediately transforms food into toxic waste?

Did you ever stumble across a couple making love in a public place, like a little-frequented corner of a park? How did you react? Some people might stay and watch, but most folks tend to flee in confusion. It's strange, because some large number of Americans are paying a total of $15 billion yearly to watch sex videos online. That's quite a bit more than the total take of Hollywood movies! But the really curious point is that so many people would describe public sex as "disgusting." Really? Does it really engender the same feelings as if you were told you'd just eaten dog meat, or earthworm crunchies? or were offered the grape just plucked from the sink?

All this and more are discussed in entertaining and enlightening fashion in That's Disgusting: Unraveling the Mysteries of Repulsion, by Rachel Herz. As I did above, Ms Herz begins by discussing food. One of her examples is natto, a slimy fermented soy paste that the Japanese (my wife included) just love. To me it is the only thing more disgusting than okra, except when the okra is in a good gumbo. I think gumbo was invented in self-defense, as a way to make okra useful in some fashion.

But food is only the beginning. I recall a cartoon showing a woman gardening, when a wisp of her hair is blown into her mouth. She uses a dirt-covered hand to get the hair out. Is hair really more dangerous to your health than garden soil? I have seen both girls and boys (who had long enough hair) chew on the end of a lock of hair, contemplatively, while reading. Then there are smells. If I tell you that the smell of Gorgonzola cheese is produced by the same bacteria that make feet smelly, can you still eat it? How do you react to the sudden smell of a long-unwashed person (maybe just returned from a camping trip)? Context is everything. In one context, the smell of a used undershirt is horrid, but in another it is a real turn-on, particularly if you are in love with the wearer of the shirt.

For four years, we have had continual news of the problems in the banking and mortgage sectors that brought about the current recession (Oh, you thought it was over?). One highlight was the downfall of Bernie Madoff, who made off with a ton of other people's money. What do people say? Frequently, it is "How disgusting!" Really, disgusting? Are the antics of Madoff or of two larcenous Treasury secretaries and a gaggle of felonious bankers really going to make you vomit? I doubt it. More likely, you have entertained fantasies of joining NRA and ferreting out their addresses…

What is genuine disgust really for? When you taste something bitter, you make a certain face as you spit it out. When you smell old gym socks, you make the same face, of you are older than about six. Perhaps when you surprise a loving couple in the park, you also make the same face as you flee. And seeing a baby eat a fly on America's Funniest Home Videos? Same face.

As the author informs us, only our reaction to bitter tastes is innate. Children react to bitter tastes, but as the video of the fly-eating baby shows us, other kinds of disgust have to be learned. We learn from those around us as we grow up. Disgust is part of our cultural equipment. The innate disgust reactions keep us from ingesting poisons. The learned reactions keep us from ingesting a wider array of potentially damaging substances.

Early in the book we find a Disgust Scale questionnaire. The average score is 40, and I scored a 46. I don't know the variance of the scoring, so I may be pretty close to ordinary, or I may be flamingly sensitive, but "ordinary" is more likely. The author states that our sensitivity to disgust usually decreases with age. I am pretty sure that is true for me. In one particular, though, I know I haven't changed. I still can't watch when I get an injection or have blood drawn. I am just too squeamish and afraid I might faint. But is that really disgust?

Of the six emotional expressions (happiness, sadness, anger, fear, surprise and disgust), only disgust is primarily a learned response. Bitter tastes elicit it, but all other "disgust triggers" are culturally learned. Much work on brain activity has shown that disgust is closely allied to both anger and fear. However, certain people, notably those with Huntington's Disease, cannot experience disgust, though they react appropriately to fear- or anger-inducing stimuli. Further, because we react with disgust to disgust in others, it is closely related to empathy. The author writes, "I have come to believe that disgust is about empathizing with yourself."

The root of disgust is an aversion to disease or damage. Perhaps it is the most recently evolved addition to our immune system. When we empathetically wrinkle our nose upon hearing "Yuck!" or seeing someone jerk away from a bad taste or smell, we are learning to avoid things that others have found dangerous. Disgust is a rather slow reaction. It takes processing, whether conscious or not. Fear is quick. Anything that looks vaguely like an attacking predator makes us jump right now! But we have to think a bit before using Purell or washing off the vegetables.

The author writes about desensitization to fear triggers such as spiders and harmless snakes. A similar process seems at work in "learned tastes" such as smelly cheeses or the more "pissy" beers (all beers disgust me, but then I don't drink alcohol any more), or even natto. It turns out that there is a large gray area in every cultural tradition. Some things are very taboo here but permitted there; others are eagerly sought out in one culture but cause disgust in another. It seems, beyond our innate aversion to bitterness (which we can also overcome to some extent), that there is almost nothing that is always a disgust trigger for every culture.

I think I'll take a step beyond the author, and conclude that disgust is more political than hygienic. There is a second way to learn disgust: to have first learned to hate "them," and then to find out what "they" eat or do that is "different." Do they eat the Frobjus fruit? Then we must never eat it! It must be truly awful or evil, just because "they" like it. Recall the big-endian and little-endian wars of Jonathan Swift's Lilliputians. Egg eating habits were a proxy for their ethnic prejudices. Think over how many characteristics of a "different" ethnic group you may find disgusting, at least a little bit. Maybe some kinds of food, maybe a smell (based on food), maybe a music preference. What is their basis? Usually, it is a codified preference that arose simply from cultural drift or from the necessity of using what a certain part of the world had to offer.

For example, lots of people in the culture I grew up in prefer a beef-and-potatoes diet. In some tropical areas, the staples are pork and taro; elsewhere, chicken and cornmeal. Nearly every culture has a preferred meat and a preferred starch. My wife's seaside cousins grew up eating fish and tofu with rice; tofu is the preferred protein source in Japan when you can't afford animal protein. I am surprised how many of my Western acquaintances profess to "hate" tofu, even while it is becoming more popular in the West. I happen to relish tofu. A further observation is that disdain for tofu seems to accompany a poorly-hidden dislike of Asians. I won't get into how being a couple of mixed race has narrowed our circle of potential friends…

Look in the mirror. What disgusts you? Are your reactions sensible? In many cases they are. In others, they could be holding you back from fulfilling experiences.

Just how do I want to feel right now?

kw: book reviews, nonfiction, psychology, emotions

It took Lynn Toler about six years to write My Mother's Rules: A Practical Guide to Becoming an Emotional Genius. I'm surprised she finished it at all. She has had remarkable success, becoming a lawyer, a judge, and now star of TV's "Divorce Court". Yet as she details in the book, she was raised, to use an expression heard on the program, "in a tornado". It is a conundrum, to what extent her chaotic surroundings helped, and to what extent they may have helped.

Her certain anchor through it all was her mother, who usually could navigate the rough waters of Lynn's father's moods, but got herself and the kids out of the way whenever needed. He was a genuine maniac, someone who could be a brilliant lawyer in his day job, but who came totally unglued—either drunk or unhinged—after hours. Whereas my experience of bipolar disorder is primarily moderate depression with occasional mania, he was nearly always manic with very rare lows. Yet he was not bad by nature. Lynn's mother told her, "It's not always about the right decision, Lynn. Sometimes it's just a matter of picking which set of problems you want to solve...You can work with a good man who has bad habits because he wants to do the right thing. But a man with no character doesn't give a damn and you can't do anything with that." (p 43)


There is only so much a mother can do, so Lynn had to develop excellent emotional management skills for herself as a matter of survival. She has, she confesses, a very timid, anxious nature, so the strength she developed is doubly remarkable. I find it most remarkable that she could distill from her mother's raising a total of 43 "rules". Each chapter has a few that are pertinent to its own stories, and the rules are summarized in an appendix.

Knowing that most people can't take away more than three points, however, I think these three items can go a long way toward helping any of us:

• Her first rule is the Smith & Wesson Test: If someone held a gun to your head, could you stop? If so, the emotion you are feeling is a choice and you can learn to control it. This underlies everything else in the book.
• Under 28: Increase your nonsense threshold, "...small things only bother small people." (p 122) My son and his friends sometimes say, "Chill out" or "Get used to it." Many of the things that get under our skin aren't really worth the bother.
• In a later chapter, prior to trotting out a couple of rules, she asks us to consider, "If I had to explain my attitude to a five-year-old, how silly would I feel?"

But a practical point I realized as I read about the many faces of anger shown here (for this is at its root a book of anger management): When I begin to feel angry, it is best to say aloud, "I am afraid" and then state my fear. Anger always begins with fear. I'm just beginning to practice this, so stay tuned, and I'll report on its effectiveness. And you, while you are at it, get a copy of My Mother's Rules and copy the appendix to re-read as needed. Maybe we can all chill out just a bit more.

Yes, that purring cat is actually smiling

kw: book reviews, nonfiction, animals, animal rights, emotions

I once saw the Lipizzaner Stallions perform. The announcer said a particular "Airs Above the Ground" maneuver was being performed by this particular horse for the first time in public. I noticed the horse, just before his jump, hesitate, sway slightly, then rear his head proudly and perform flawlessly. Tears came to my eyes. I could instantly sense the horse's anxiety and that he overcame it.

Five years earlier (1966), in some required Zoology class, we were told very sternly that to attribute to an animal the empathetic feelings we experienced while watching their behavior was "anthropomorphism," one of the greatest sins in science. At that time, even Jane Goodall was finding it difficult to get away with trying to print even weasel-worded statements like "Had we observed a child behave as little Jason behaved, we would say he was happy." When I wept in relief at the horse's triumph, I knew that professor was tragically wrong.

Thank God things have changed. When you scratch between your dog's ears, and he half-closes his eyes and whisper-moans; when you pet a kitten who then purrs; it is quite obvious they are enjoying happy emotions. Are they humanly happy? Of course not! They are dogly or catly happy!! But the emotions they feel are so similar to our own that we recognize them and respond to them.

This lovely image from The Africa Guide, and copyright by them, shows young elephants playing. Have you ever tried to play when you were sad? If you managed it, you weren't sad for long!


Today it is tolerated, and almost acceptable for a scientist to write of "the happy reunion" of a mother fox with her kits, or an "angry baboon", who feels he's been cheated...without using quote marks or weasel words.

Marc Bekoff is one of many whom we can thank for this salutary change. In The Emotional Lives of Animals: A Leading Scientist Explores Animal Joy, Sorrow, and Empathy—and Why They Matter, Dr. Bekoff makes it clear that we have emotions because animals have emotions, including the animals from which our species descends. Perhaps because they think less richly than we do (at least, we think that is so...), their emotions are possibly richer and stronger than ours.

They are certainly more visible. Particularly in conservative cultures, we are taught to be reserved, to mask our feelings. As it turns out, many animals have been observed to mask feelings also, in order to deceive another or gain advantage. But they usually don't bother.

When a dog's caretaker says, "Let's go for a walk," There is no question of the dog's joy. Give a young pig a new toy, and watch out! Animals seldom have anything to hide. Their hearts really show on their...em...forelegs(!)

Dr. Bekoff and his preferred associates have brought the subject out of the closet. Animals love and hate, feel empathy or disdain, express fear, surprise, and grief pretty much the same way we do. He shows how studies of how brains work are showing that we (all vertebrates, to varying degrees) have specific brain equipment for recognizing and empathizing with the emotions of others, whatever the species. In fact, people without specific training are just as good, and often better, at recognizing an animal's emotion, compared to "professionals."

Dr. Bekoff is an ethologist, one who studies feelings. He specialized in canids (wolves, coyotes, dogs, foxes, and jackals). He and Jane Goodall have established Ethologists for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, or EETA. It is a professional-level organization with many of the same goals as PETA, on which I reported not long ago.

While reading, I realized something very weird: people who claim that only humans have emotions must be Creationists. They must believe our feelings are a "special creation". Otherwise, where did they come from? If 98% of our genes are Chimp genes, and 80+% are in common with all vertebrates, doesn't it stand to reason that our emotions are 80-to-90-plus percent the same as theirs?

Anyway, remember the dog that is happy to hear the word "walk"? He has learned some words of English, but his master knows not one word of Dog. Which one is really smarter?