We are made of the same stuff stories are made of.
Stories are a reflection of ourselves, for better or worse. An aspiration, a model, an inspiration, a cautionary tale. Everything is a story - and stories are everything. Stories have a tangible neurophysiological effect, as they alter the neurotransmitters in our brains and subtly influence our moods almost unbeknownst to us. We cannot live without stories, without scripts, without schemata. We constantly hear the little voice in our head telling stories about us and for us every single moment of our life. You are probably hearing my post read out loud in your head as a story right now.
We crave a story fix just like we crave, zombie-like, our morning coffee. We are story junkies. We are so addicted to storytelling that, once we are hooked on a story, ever-increasing doses of storytelling to counteract tolerance and achieved the desired effects are necessary. Cue all the eternal sagas and never-ending re-elaborations of folklore, religions, comic books, movie sequels, and literary mythos.
From our very beginnings, an ingenious arms race of cultural ploys devised to conquer our attention through storytelling was afoot. Gossip was - and still is - the quickest way to get a quick fix of emotional storytelling every time, anywhere. Gossip is the ground floor of the hero’s journey skyscraper: someone said something about someone else. Someone did something good, someone else something bad. Someone is the hero, somebody else the villain. Here’s myth in a nutshell. And gossip is so ingrained in our deep history as a species that it might have provided our ancestors with an evolutionarily adaptive edge that boosted our in-group pro-sociality beyond the social constraints of grooming (Dunbar 2004). We gossip, we increase our social intimacy, and we feel good because - ka-ching! - we get dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins in return. Any time, anywhere. But night-time has always been the best time for the most satisfying storytelling. At least since the mastery and control of fire.
According to a field research by anthropologist Polly W. Wiessner, there is a striking difference between trivial, functional “day talk” and imaginative “night talk” among the Ju/’hoan (!Kung) Bushmen of southern Africa:
“In the late afternoon, families gathered at their own fires for the evening meal. After dinner and dark, the harsher mood of the day mellowed and people who were in the mood gathered around single fires to talk, make music, or dance. Some nights large groups convened and other nights smaller groups. The focus of conversation changed radically as economic concerns and social gripes were put aside. At this time 81% of lengthy conversations involving many people were devoted to stories; these stories were largely about known people and amusing, exciting, or endearing escapades [4% were dedicated to myths]. Storytellers did not praise heroes or moralize; advancing oneself in the moral hierarchy or demoting others was avoided, as was any form of self-promotion. No doubt, listeners gleaned unspoken lessons from stories. When a story was over, others rehashed details, embellished, and discussed. The language of stories tended to be rhythmic, complex, and symbolic, with individuals repeating the last words of phrases or adding an affirmative ‘Eh he.’ Frequently listeners were stunned with suspense, nearly in tears, or rolling with laughter; they arrived on a similar emotional wavelength as moods were altered” (Wiessner 2014: 14029).
Like the !Kung, we do engage in similar talks during dinner. There is a reason why we call ‘prime time’ the post-dinner evening time slot for our TV programmes and why we go to the movies in the evening: it is the magic hour of storytelling. At the end of the day, we sit back, relax, and enjoy stories. And while we watch drama together, we share the same rush of neurotransmitters and we strengthen and deepen our bonding over the stories we watch (Dunbar et al. 2016).
Homo truly is the only species able to turn the dark of the lonely night into the rainbow of collective imagination.
Notes
Please note that the opening image has been added on 8 July 2021.
Refs.
Dunbar, R. I. M. (2004). “Gossip in Evolutionary Perspective.” Review of General Psychology 8(2): 100-110. http://doi.org/ 10.1037/1089-2680.8.2.100
Dunbar R. I. M., et al. (2016). “Emotional Arousal When Watching Drama Increases Pain Threshold and Social Bonding.” Royal Society Open Science 3: 160288. http://doi.org/10.1098/rsos.160288
Wiessner, P. W. (2014). “Embers of Society: Firelight Talk Among the Ju/’hoansi Bushmen.” PNAS 111 (39): 14027-14035. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1404212111