Words

Why Do Kids Call Their Parents ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’?

You can say “Mom” in any country in the world and people would pretty much know who you meant.

Once, a long time ago, one of us, Bethany, fell behind at the grocery store and was trying to catch up. She called out her mom’s name, “Mom!,” and to her frustration, half the women there turned around and the other half ignored Bethany, assuming it was someone else’s child.

How was Bethany going to get her mom’s attention? She knew a secret trick that would work for sure: Her mom had another name. She called “Denise!” and magically, just her mom (the other one of us) turned around.

But why do almost all kids use the same name for their parents? This is the kind of question we enjoy investigating as scientists who study families and human development.

The sounds heard ‘round the world

All around the world, the words for “mom,” “dad,” “grandma” and “grandpa” are almost the same. Other words aren’t nearly as similar.

Take “dog,” for example. In French, “dog” is “chien”; in Dutch, it is “hond”; and in Hungarian, it is “kutya.” But if you needed to get your mother’s attention in France, the Netherlands or Hungary, you’d call “Maman,” “Mama” or “Mamma.”

You can say “Mom” in any country in the world and people would pretty much know who you meant. And did you notice that “Dad” is also similar across languages – “Papa,” “Baba,” “Tad” and “Dad”?

Scientists have noticed the same thing. George Peter Murdock was an anthropologist, which is a scientist who studies people and cultures. Pete, as his friends called him, traveled the globe back in the 1940s and collected information about families from all over. He discovered 1,072 similar words for “mom” and “dad.”

Pete handed this data over to linguists, the scientists who study language, and challenged them to figure out why these words sound the same. Roman Jakobson, a famous linguist and literary theorist, then wrote an entire chapter on “mama” and “papa.”

The first sounds infants make are those that are made with the lips and are easily seen: m, b and p. These sounds are quickly followed by other sounds that can be easily seen: t and d. It’s possible that as infants practice making these easy sounds (mamamamama) or produce these sounds while nursing or drinking from a bottle, the mother hears “mama.” She then smiles with joy and says, “Mama! You said Mama!”

Of course, the baby is happy to see the mother happy, so the baby says it again. Bingo, “Mama” is born. Similarly, the baby may practice “dadadadada” or “papapapa” and the parents’ reactions result in the baby repeating “dada” or “papa.”

These words refer to the two most important people in most babies’ lives, followed closely by similar words for grandparents – nana, tata, bobcia, nonno, opa, omo – who often play important roles, as well.

Reinforcing everyone’s roles

But there’s more to this story. Once children can say many sounds, why don’t they call their parents Ella, Zoheb, Dipankar or Denise?

It’s because we all have rules that most of us follow. These are rules related to our cultures, our societies and even our families. We have rules for how to greet people (shake hands, hug), how to use forks or chopsticks, what to call our teacher (“Mrs. Bell”) and even where to sit at the dinner table.

We don’t think of these things as “rules”; they’re just there. One of these kinds of rules in most families around the world is that parents are the heads of the household and children are supposed to listen to them. By calling parents “Mom” or “Dad,” it helps everyone stick to their roles.

Some parents feel that if you call them by their first name, you don’t think they are the boss anymore (and parents generally don’t like that). But every family is different, which is part of what makes life so interesting. Some families have their own rules that might differ from your family’s rules.

Most kids call their mom “Mom,” but some kids don’t and that’s OK. For example, for our family rules, our kids may occasionally call us “Denise” and “Mom Bethany.”

The next time you call out “Mom!” in the store, whether in New York, Paris, Hong Kong or Durban, watch how many mothers turn around. It’s all because of a mixture of biology (easy sounds to see and make), environment (parents being happy you said this and smiling) and culture (rules).

If you have children when you grow up, what do you want them to call you?

Featured image credit: Joshua Reddekopp/Unsplash

Bethany Van Vleet, Senior Lecturer in Family and Human Development, Arizona State University and Denise Bodman, Principal Lecturer in Social and Family Dynamics, Arizona State University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Kama Muta: A New Term for That Warm, Fuzzy Feeling We All Get

Kama muta is closely related to, but not the same as, love.

Some emotions you seem to recognise the moment you feel them – you know when you’re angry, surprised, embarrassed or jealous. And yet you probably can’t name one of life’s most wonderful emotions (in fact, even psychologists have only recently begun to study it). It’s hiding in plain sight: without realising what you were feeling, you’ve probably experienced this same emotion in diverse situations such as when reunited with family or others you love; in worship; at a wedding; when you first held your newborn baby; when your team won a championship; or when a kitten climbed into your lap, licked your hand, curled up and fell asleep there. You might have felt it marching in a social-movement demonstration, or participating in a support or recovery group.

Now think back. At any of those times, was there a wonderful warm, fuzzy feeling in your heart? Did you cry tears of joy? Were you choked up with happiness? Did you get goosebumps or chills of delight? Feel so buoyant you were almost floating? Perhaps you put your hand on your heart and said ‘Awww!’ If you had these sensations, you were probably feeling this mysterious emotion. Next, you probably wanted to hug everyone, or call your grandparents to tell them how much you love them.

Although there is no exact word in any everyday language for this emotion, English speakers seeking to name the feeling might call it, depending on the context: being moved, touched, team pride, patriotism, being touched by the Spirit, burning in the bosom, the feels, or, when evoked by a memory, nostalgia. However, none of these terms captures precisely what the emotion is – and using any one of them conceals the fact that though it has many names, it is one emotion. So we coined a scientific term for it, ‘kama muta’, borrowed from the ancient Sanskrit where it meant ‘moved by love’, written in the beautiful Devanāgarī script as काममूत.

Kama muta is recognisable by six co-occurring features:

It is evoked by the sudden intensification of communal sharing – that is, sudden ‘love’ or kindness;
It is brief (typically less than a minute or two, though it can repeat in rapid succession);
It feels good (though it can occur in the context of other, negative emotions);
When intense, it is often accompanied by the same set of physical sensations: a warm, fuzzy feeling in the centre of the chest; moist eyes or tears; being choked up (a lump in the throat); chills or goosebumps; and often a smile and putting the palm(s) on the chest, sometimes saying ‘Awwww!’;
It motivates devotion and compassion to communal sharing – also known as ‘loving kindness’;
Depending on the language and the context, it is often labelled with the terms mentioned above.

In several experiments with more than 10,000 participants in 19 nations in 15 languages, involving observation, interviews, diary studies, comparative ethnology and history, we have shown that these six features frequently co-occur, in the specific contexts mentioned above, and many others where love ignites.

We’ve conducted observational research in churches and mosques, in poetry lounges and memorial sites, at Alcoholics Anonymous and eating-disorder residential treatment programmes, in birth centres and with new parents. We have explored hundreds of historical sources and hundreds of ethnographies from diverse cultures all over the world.

Wherever we’ve looked, in myriad contexts and cultures, we’ve found the same pattern: kama muta and its six features are consistently evoked by viewing videos of sudden connection or kindness, confirming that it is one emotion. So, for example, when we show participants short videos that involve love springing up between fictional characters, the participants tend to get warm feelings in the heart, often along with tears or goosebumps, just as we find in participant observation in Sufi and Pentecostal services when the worshipper suddenly feels divine love.

Kama muta is closely related to, but not the same as, love. Love is an enduring sentiment, whereas kama muta is the momentary emotion that occurs when love ignites. That is, you feel kama muta when new love emerges (such as a first kiss, or someone shows you kindness), or existing love suddenly becomes salient, or a sense of belonging, connection, and identity emerges, for example at a march or demonstration. The suddenly created or intensified love can be romantic, platonic, or religious. It can be with one person, with a family or team, or with the entire Earth. It can be the gratitude for an unexpected kindness, or the sense of connection and belonging at a warm welcome.

That feeling is all around us. Social media posts that evoke strong kama muta often go viral – for example, cute kittens, puppies and special animal friendships. The popularity of some literature (especially sentimental novels) and movies (especially romantic comedies) is, we suspect, often largely due to the kama muta they evoke. Kama muta is often the essence of oratory and poetry such as William Shakespeare’s sonnets and Matsuo Bashō’s haiku. Many kinds of music evoke it in multiple ways, as do certain experiences of oneness with nature. It appears to be a universal emotion, present in diverse cultures throughout history.

Many social practices have culturally evolved via their capacity to evoke this appealing emotion. The more a form of worship, a type of music or a narrative evokes kama muta, the more people seek it out, tell others about it and reproduce it. When a Pixar movie, a wedding practice or poetry or photographs evoke kama muta, they spread across the globe. Preachers, orators, marketing creatives and political consultants who can create pitches that effectively evoke kama muta are more successful than those who cannot. Religious practices that engender kama muta presumably attract more worshippers and motivate those who have experienced kama muta to proselytise and to found new congregations. Kama muta moves the world.

When people are isolated and vulnerable, excluded and distressed, kama muta can reconnect them. Patients who feel kama muta with their psychotherapists seem to become more trusting and more committed to healing. Women in residential treatment for eating disorders who bond through kama muta apparently become more motivated to recover. Addicts who experience kama muta in support meetings might be more committed to stay sober. Immigrants who have kama muta experiences with people in their host country are likely to feel a stronger sense of belonging and identification with their hosts. And people who have kama muta experiences with immigrants or LGBTQ persons become more likely to embrace them.

Even a small unexpected kindness kindles kama muta: a thoughtful gift, a hug, an invitation to join a meal, an appearance at your bedside in the hospital. The lonely are more likely to fall ill and more likely to die; in contrast, kama muta connects, probably enhancing wellbeing and health.

We’ve only been studying kama muta for a few years, so many mysteries remain. We don’t yet know the underlying biochemistry or what neural processes are involved in recognising sudden intensifications of love, or how they generate the sensations and motives characteristic of kama muta. We are planning many more studies in diverse contexts, from psychotherapy to charity giving to religious devotion. Join us on our journey of discovery by following our latest research into kama muta on our lab website.

Alan Fiske is a psychological anthropologist and distinguished professor at the University of California, Los Angeles. His latest book is Kama Muta: Discovering the Connecting Emotion (2019).

This article was originally published at Aeon and has been republished under Creative Commons.

A History of Loneliness

Although loneliness, a major cause of health problems, may seem timeless and universal, the word seems to have originated in the 16th century.

Is loneliness our modern malaise?

Former US Surgeon General Vivek Murthy says the most common pathology he saw during his years of service “was not heart disease or diabetes; it was loneliness”.

Chronic loneliness, some say, is like “smoking 15 cigarettes a day.” It “kills more people than obesity.”

Because loneliness is now considered a public health issue – and even an epidemic – people are exploring its causes and trying to find solutions.

While writing a book on the history of how poets wrote about loneliness in the Romantic Period, I discovered that loneliness is a relatively new concept and once had an easy cure. However, as the concept’s meaning has transformed, finding solutions has become harder.

Returning to the origins of the word – and understanding how its meaning has changed through time – gives us a new way to think about modern loneliness, and the ways in which we might address it.

The dangers of venturing into ‘lonelinesses’

Although loneliness may seem like a timeless, universal experience, it seems to have originated in the late 16th century, when it signalled the danger created by being too far from other people.

In early modern Britain, to stray too far from society was to surrender the protections it provided. Distant forests and mountains inspired fear, and a lonely space was a place in which you might meet someone who could do you harm, with no one else around to help.

In order to frighten their congregations out of sin, sermon writers asked people to imagine themselves in “lonelinesses” – places like hell, the grave or the desert.

Yet well into the 17th century, the words “loneliness” and “lonely” rarely appeared in writing. In 1674, the naturalist John Ray compiled a glossary of infrequently used words. He included “loneliness” in his list, defining it as a term used to describe places and people “far from neighbours.”

A Gustave Doré engraving for an 1866 edition of John Milton’s Paradise Lost. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

John Milton’s 1667 epic poem Paradise Lost features one of the first lonely characters in all of British literature: Satan. On his journey to the garden of Eden to tempt Eve, Satan treads “lonely steps” out of hell. But Milton isn’t writing about Satan’s feelings; instead, he’s emphasising that he’s crossing into the ultimate wilderness, a space between hell and Eden where no angel has previously ventured.

Satan describes his loneliness in terms of vulnerability: “From them I go / This uncouth errand sole, and one for all / Myself expose, with lonely steps to tread / Th’ unfounded deep.”

The dilemma of modern loneliness

Even if we now enjoy the wilderness as a place of adventure and pleasure, the fear of loneliness persists. The problem has simply moved into our cities.

Many are trying to solve it by bringing people physically closer to their neighbors. Studies point to a spike in the number of people who live alone and the breakdown of family and community structures.

British Prime Minister Theresa May has set her sights on “combating” loneliness and appointed a minister of loneliness to do just that in January. There is even a philanthropy called the “Campaign to End Loneliness.”

But the drive to cure loneliness oversimplifies its modern meaning.

In the 17th century, when loneliness was usually relegated to the space outside the city, solving it was easy. It merely required a return to society.

However, loneliness has since moved inward – and has become much harder to cure. Because it’s taken up residence inside minds, even the minds of people living in bustling cities, it can’t always be solved by company.

Modern loneliness isn’t just about being physically removed from other people. Instead, it’s an emotional state of feeling apart from others – without necessarily being so.

Someone surrounded by people, or even accompanied by friends or a lover, can complain of feelings of loneliness. The wilderness is now inside of us.

Populating the wilderness of the mind

The lack of an obvious cure to loneliness is part of the reason why it is considered to be so dangerous today: The abstraction is frightening.

Counterintuitively, however, the secret to dealing with modern loneliness might lie not in trying to make it disappear but in finding ways to dwell within its abstractions, talk through its contradictions and seek out others who feel the same way.

While it’s certainly important to pay attention to the structures that have led people (especially elderly, disabled and other vulnerable people) to be physically isolated and therefore unwell, finding ways to destigmatize loneliness is also crucial.

Acknowledging that loneliness is a profoundly human and sometimes uncurable experience rather than a mere pathology might allow people – especially lonely people – to find commonality.

In order to look at the “epidemic of loneliness” as more than just an “epidemic of isolation,” it’s important to consider why the spaces of different people’s minds might feel like wildernesses in the first place.

Everyone experiences loneliness differently, and many find it difficult to describe. As the novelist Joseph Conrad wrote, “Who knows what true loneliness is – not the conventional word but the naked terror? To the lonely themselves it wears a mask.” Learning about the range of ways others experience loneliness could help mitigate the kind of disorientation Conrad describes.

Reading literature can also make the mind feel like less of a wilderness. The books we read need not themselves be about loneliness, though there are lots of examples of these, from Frankenstein to Invisible Man. Reading allows readers to connect with characters who might also be lonely; but more importantly, it offers a way to make the mind feel as though it is populated.

Literature also offers examples of how to be lonely together. British Romantic poets often copied each other’s loneliness and found it productive and fulfilling.

There are opportunities for community in loneliness when we share it, whether in face-to-face interactions or through text. Though loneliness can be debilitating, it has come a long way from its origins as a synonym for isolation.

As the poet Ocean Vuong wrote, “Loneliness is still time spent with the world.”

Amelia S. Worsley, Assistant Professor of English, Amherst College

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.