Re: genes and language (Homer, Richard Dawkins)

From: Franz Gnaedinger (frgn_at_bluemail.ch)
Date: 01/31/05 

Date: 30 Jan 2005 23:48:30 -0800

The loving embrace and soothing voice of a mother tells
her baby, her child: you belong to me, to us, to our
family. When a child grows up, the embraces and touches
become less, while the words take over and weave a band
among the members of the family, of the tribe, of the
various communities, of the nation, of the world.

The touches and voices of early childhood are never
forgotten and keep a hold on a human being. The mother
can heel a hurting knee of her child just by placing her
hand on it and saying a magic formula. We got a simple
one in Switzerland: Hila Hila saega = heal heal saying,
and it always worked when I was a boy, the pain of my
hurting knee immediately dissolved. The emphasis lies
on SAE-ga, SAY-ing, testifying to the power of language.

Doctors know the healing power touches and words hold
on a human being. When you visit a doctor you have to
wait, and it may happen that you are sliding into some
kind of meditation. When you are finally called in you
see a doctor in white, which color makes him or her
appear larger, bigger. His or her language contains
mysterious words, and the books on the shelves are
certainly plain incomprehensible. You are feeling like
a child again, and the more so as you are reduced by
your pain and suffering that requires a doctor's help.
In such a situation you glide back into childhood, when
you were utterly depending on the grown-ups, when they
were so big and you so small, when they spoke about
things you barely understood, when all was mysterious,
and when a loving embrace and soothing voice dissovled
many a pain. By trusting your doctor you fall back
into early childhood and relive the wonder of the
healing voice and touch - better than many pills.

Language is the means of getting the help of those
we depend upon in one way or another. The basic need
of social beings is belonging to their communities,
which need is satisfied by the weaving band of
language itself.
-
Regards Franz Gnaedinger www.seshat.ch

> >From the mill we moved on to the farmhouse on the hill,
> and then to the residence of a cotton magnate, owner of
> a weaving mill, and a railway builder who was dreaming
> of an alpine railway from Switzerland to Istanbul ...
> Although we had little money we lived quite formidably
> in those times.
>
> When I went shopping in the village, half an hour to
> walk, I often took a small girl with me. On a very cold
> winter morning I was about leaving the house when the
> mite saw me and asked me whether she may come with me?
> Yes, I said, but hurry. I waited for some ten minutes.
> Finally she was released by her mother, clad in five
> warm layers, round and beaming. I made a joke and told
> her: Sorry, you are too late, I am already gone and on
> my way to the village ... She immediately began crying.
> I said: but look, I am still here, standing right in
> front of you. Don't you see me? I made a silly joke.
> Of course I waited for you, and here I am, here we are,
> ready to go ... She was still sobbing: But you told me
> you are gone! So I took her by a woollen glove, which
> contact finally convinced her that I was still there,
> and not gone as I had said.
>
> Language, my spoken word, was obviously far stronger
> than vision, what her eyes told her. How come? I shall
> explain that in my next message.
> -
> Regards Franz Gnaedinger www.seshat.ch
>
>
> > Before we moved on to the farmhouse on the hill a party
> > of us lived in the former mill in the valley below; a
> > large stone house from 1634 in a garden with a meadow,
> > firs and wild cherries between a brook and a creek.
> > I liked to write on the terrace in front of the house.
> > We had a young cat, Hermine, white with grey spots.
> > The farmers across the street had a giant tomcat we
> > called Carlo. He was a monster and chased the other
> > cats around, especially poor Hermine. It got very bad
> > in spring, when Carlo fell in love with Hermine. I was
> > working on the terrace as usual, on a sunny morning,
> > when I saw Hermine appear on top of the stair leading
> > to the terrace. One glance told her that the house door
> > was closed, and I too far away to rescue her. Now what?
> > She had two possibilities: a leap onto the balustrade,
> > where she quickly would be in security, however, only
> > for a short while, since the balustrade led toward the
> > house front, where she would have Carlo on one side and
> > an abyss on the other side -- or a run over to the low
> > roof of a small barn, risky, for Carlo could get her,
> > on the other paw she would be safe if she made it,
> > for she quickly would be over the roof in the garden
> > and might even find an open window ... So she had two
> > possibilities: a quick leap providing instant but only
> > provisional security, or a risky run for some meters,
> > which, if absolved successfully, would save her for
> > good. I swear to you that I saw Hermine ponder these
> > possibilities, make her decision, check it by quick
> > glances, and then she run for the roof, luckily reached
> > it, leapt on the low tiles, run upward and disappeared
> > over the ridge ... Her pondering lasted about a second,
> > and Carlo missed her by more than half a meter, so she
> > made the good decision by choosing the risky flight,
> > which provided lasting savety from the fur bag full
> > of spring hormones - at least for this morning.
> >
> > Is human reasoning different from Hermine's reasoning?
> > The only difference I see is that we human beings live
> > in an artificial world of human made things, where our
> > decisions and deeds can return on us via long chains
> > of people, things, and further people, which ways or
> > chains are often hardly foreseeable and so require
> > a much further developed though in principe equal
> > reasoning.