Page 75 - Malcolm Gladwell - Talking to Strangers
P. 75

The hard eyes. The tight mouth. But anger baffled the Trobrianders. Just look at the scores for the
                    angry face. Twenty percent called it a happy face. Seventeen percent called it a sad face. Thirty
                    percent called it a fearful face. Twenty percent thought it was a sign of disgust—and only seven
                    percent identified it the way that nearly every Spanish schoolchild had. Crivelli said:
                       They  gave  lots  of  different  descriptors.…They  would  just  say,  like,  “They’re  frowning.”  Or
                       they’d  use  one  of  these  proverbs  that  say…it  means  his  brow  is  dark,  which  obviously  can
                       translate as “He’s frowning.” They wouldn’t infer that that means that this person is angry.

                       To  make  sure  the  Trobrianders  weren’t  some  kind  of  special  case,  Jarillo  and  Crivelli  then
                    traveled to Mozambique to study a group of isolated subsistence fishermen known as the Mwani.
                    Once again, the results were dismal. The Mwani did marginally better than chance with the smiling
                    faces, but they seemed baffled by sad faces and angry faces. Another group, led by Maria Gendron,
                    traveled to the mountains of northwest Namibia to see whether the people there could accurately
                    sort photographs into piles according to the emotional expression of the subject. They couldn’t.
                       Even historians have now gotten into the act. If you could go into a time machine and show the
                    ancient Greeks and Romans pictures of modern-day people grinning broadly, would they interpret
                    that expression the same way we do? Probably not. As classicist Mary Beard writes in her book,
                    Laughter in Ancient Rome:
                       This is not to say that Romans never curled up the edges of their mouths in a formation that
                       would look to us much like a smile; of course they did. But such curling did not mean very much
                       in  the  range  of  significant  social  and  cultural  gestures  in  Rome.  Conversely,  other  gestures,
                       which would mean little to us, were much more heavily freighted with significance.
                       If you staged a screening of that Friends episode for the Trobriand Islanders, they would see
                    Ross confronting Chandler and think Chandler was angry and Ross was scared. They would get the
                    scene completely wrong. And if you threw a Friends premiere in ancient Rome for Cicero and the
                    emperor and a bunch of their friends, they would look at the extravagant grimaces and contortions
                    on the faces of the actors and think: What on earth?


                                                           5.



                    OK. So what about within a culture? If we limit ourselves to the developed world—and forget about
                    outliers and ancient Rome—do the rules of transparency now work? No, they don’t.

                       Imagine the following scenario. You’re led down a long, narrow hallway into a dark room. There
                    you sit and listen to a recording of a Franz Kafka short story, followed by a memory test on what
                    you’ve just heard. You finish the test and step back into the corridor. But while you were listening to
   70   71   72   73   74   75   76   77   78   79   80