At this time of year, I often wonder. Wonder figures largely in the holiday season. Western religion has actively fostered it in believers for centuries. Now, of course, there’s the wonder to do with Black Friday and holiday bargains.
I wonder about other things.
The season makes me wonder, for example, why humans are called Homo sapiens.
The word “sapiens” comes from an old Latin word meaning “wise.” Oh, sure, our large frontal lobes and superb neural processing power mean we’re good at solving problems, imagining alternate realities and thinking up ways to make current reality more like those alternate scenarios. And our opposable thumbs allow us to make and manipulate tools that help us solve said problems and change current reality into said alternates. They also allow us to use our iPhones.
But “wise”? Hmmm. It seems optimistic. It also smacks of self-wonder — and when those attitudes are directed unqualifiedly toward one’s own kind — well, hello, narcissism! Perhaps we should be called H. narcissisticus. The description would certainly encompass how self-centred and nasty we can be to anybody or anything that doesn’t look like us or further our own interests.
Despite the hateful uses of the word in recent decades, the “Homo” part of our species name (the genus) comes from the Greek for “man” — which is sexist — or “same” — which, when taken with the “man” definition, underscores how history, science, law and religion in most parts of the world consider the male human to be the normal, natural state of our species — and all other forms to be derivatives or aberrations.
Yet another reason to wonder about “sapiens.”
The field of political science rests on the idea that humans are political animals. Homo politicus is a derogatory term describing how people tend to behave in political settings. I’m not sure what that means, exactly, but suspect we’ve seen a great deal of H. politicus lately.
Homo economicus — coined about 150 years ago by people who disagreed with British political economist John Stuart Mill’s theories — is defined as a rational and narrowly self-interested person who works to attain his or her own self-interested goals. In light of the year’s political events, I find it curious that H. economicus is supposed to be the opposite of H. politicus.
Then there’s H. reciprocans. Considerable research on monkeys, apes and humans shows that fairness and reciprocation influence how primates behave toward each other. Many examples of human co-operation exist. We work with colleagues to finish projects at the office, raise money for a community cause, clean up litter and invasive species in local parks, and so on. Some efforts benefit us directly, some benefit others. Our pioneering great-grandparents raised barns, built each other’s homes and helped harvest neighbours’ crops, with the understanding that those they helped would one day reciprocate by helping them when needed.
It’s the pretty side of “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine.”
It might take a community to build community, but it would be a mistake to forget that communities are made of individuals — each with its own particular needs and interests. Recent news reports show how H. politicus has used the tactics of H. reciprocans to further H. economicus’s interests — and now “quid pro quo” is almost a dirty word.
American economic and social theorist Jeremy Rifkin coined “H. empathicus.” It recognizes that humans are fully and frequently capable of identifying with others and how they feel, and that we frequently act selflessly to further goals greater than ourselves. That heart-warming definition aligns well with the holiday season’s ideals.
But perhaps the most accurate name I’ve encountered for humans is H. uptighticus, which captures our very human, near-obsessive need to control every aspect of our lives and environment in detail. In her book Neanderthal Café, anthropologist and writer Beebe Bahrami goes even further and bestows a subspecies name, calling us “H. uptighticus materialensis.” A visit to the nearest mall at this time of year demonstrates how accurately that handle sums up our behaviour.
But enough! It’s time for this particular H. cogitus to stop cogitating and start behaving like her fellow humans.
It’s time to be materialensis. It’s time to go shopping.
’Tis the season, after all.
