Don't Look, Don't Touch, Don't Eat: The Science Behind Revulsion

VALERIE CURTIS is director of the Hygiene Centre at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine.

The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637

The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London

© 2013 by The University of Chicago

All rights reserved. Published 2013.

Printed in the United States of America

22  21  20  19  18  17  16  15  14  13    1  2  3  4  5

ISBN-13: 978-0-226-13133-7 (cloth)

ISBN-13: 978-0-226-08910-2 (e-book)

DOI: 10.7208/chicago/9780226089102.001.0001

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Curtis, Valerie, author.

Don’t look, don’t touch, don’t eat: the science behind revulsion / Valerie Curtis.

pages; cm

ISBN 978-0-226-13133-7 (cloth: alkaline paper)—ISBN 978-0-226-08910-2 (e-book)

1. Aversion.    2. Aversion—Social aspects.    3. Hygiene—Psychological aspects.    I. Title.

BF575.A886C87 2013

152.4—dc23                                           2013017713

This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

Valerie Curtis

DON’T LOOK, DON’T TOUCH, DON’T EAT

The Science Behind Revulsion

The University of Chicago Press

Chicago and London

CONTENTS

Preface. Unweaving the Rainbow

1. Evasion of the Body Snatchers

2. Into the Hot Zone

3. Disgust’s Diversity

4. Maner Mayks Man

5. Moral Disgust

6. Disgust Matters

Epilogue. Disgust: The Unfinished Story

Acknowledgments

Appendix: The London Disgust Scale

Notes

Bibliography

Index

PREFACE

UNWEAVING THE RAINBOW

Feces, urine, toilets, sweat, menstrual blood, spilt blood, cut hair, impurities of childbirth, vomit, smell of urine, open wound, saliva, dirty feet, eating with dirty hands, food cooked while menstruating, bad breath, smelly person, yellow teeth, nose picking, dirty nails, clothes that have been worn, flies, maggots, lice, mice, mouse in a curry, rats, stray dog, meat, fish, pigs, fish smell, dog or cat saliva, flies on feces, liquid animal dung, soap that has been used in the latrine, dead rat, rotting flesh, parasitized meat, wet cloths, stickiness, decaying waste, garbage dump, sick person, hospital waiting rooms, beggars, touching someone of lower caste, crowded trains, alcohol, nudity, kissing in public, betrayal.

From fifty essays on disgust by teenage girls in Lucknow, India

Read this collection of the foul, the fetid, and the revolting carefully. Savor each word; imagine each object. How does this make you feel? The list comes from a set of essays on the subject of disgust, written for me by teenage girls in the city of Lucknow. I happened to be having breakfast while I was working on it. Partway through I had to put my spoon down; by the last essay my stomach was churning. Perhaps you feel the same sensations that I did: a curdling of the tongue, a clamminess of the hands, a slowing of the heartbeat? Maybe you also pulled down the sides of your mouth and wrinkled your nose in the classic facial expression of disgust. If you were dining while reading this list, as I was, you will probably also have set aside your plate.

Disgust’s Puzzle

Why should this simple collection of words on a page produce so visceral a reaction? What is there in this list of the odorous, the grubby, the leftover, the discarded, and the immoral that is so powerful it can leap from a page to contaminate a bowl of cereal? What links all of these disparate phenomena—from sweat, to lice, to sick people, to betrayal—apart from the fact that they disgust us? And what is the purpose of this unpleasant feeling—what good does it do us?

All humans, from India to Africa to the USA, feel disgust, and, with a few exceptions, all humans feel disgusted about more or less the same things. We are disgusted not just by particular nasty organic objects and substances, but also by hygienic lapses, and by indecency, wickedness, and hypocrisy. We also seem to suffer from what might be called a metaphysical disgust, an aversion to violations of the things that we hold sacred, our social rules, and our laws.

Disgust pushes us away; it is a voice in the head telling us to avoid the nasty, the stinky, the putrid, and the offensive. Yet at the same time it fascinates. Freak shows at fairs have always been a draw, as have been body parts in jars. The news industry thrives on our desire for gory and ghastly details, and bloodsucking vampires, slimy aliens, and deformed monsters fuel the horror fiction and film industries. Some contemporary artists like to add dung to their works, and the more disgusting the tasks that are given to celebrities in TV game shows, the higher the ratings climb. It seems that we like to take our emotions out for a spin; we can’t help taking a second look at something that makes us squirm.

Disgust has always been fascinating, but it has only recently become an object of serious study. There is now a miniboom in books, papers, and conferences on pollution and purity, disgust and dirt. Classicists, historians, humanities students, anthropologists, cultural and legal scholars, bioethicists, philosophers, marketers, and psychologists are all wrestling with this previously taboo topic. The total number of books on disgust has doubled since 2011, with four new volumes appearing with titles such as Yuck! and That’s Disgusting!¹ Even the New York Times noticed that disgust is a hot topic.²

From this burgeoning effort to peer into the nether regions of our lives, a new body of knowledge is beginning to emerge. We now know, for example, that disgust activates particular parts of our brains; that disgust informs our attitudes to others, particularly the sick and the different; that it affects our attitudes toward cloning and to GM foods, our judicial systems, our politics; and that it even affects our product-buying behavior. The previously outré topic of toilets is a new subject of academic study for archaeologists,³ and the problem of how to get sanitation to the 40 percent of people on the planet who still lack a latrine is, at last, getting serious attention from international development agencies such as the World Bank and UNICEF. Psychotherapists have learned that disgust can trump love; once disgust of the nasty habits of one’s partner takes over, a relationship is likely to be doomed.⁴ Social psychologists have reported the results of experiments that show disgust in operation when humans make moral choices. Disgust, it turns out, is a thread that is woven right through our individual and social lives; indeed, without this thread societies would fall apart.

Sorting Out the Disgust Story

However, while there is now a marvelous flowering of work on disgust, the topic does not yet have solid roots. Disgust studies grow in a motley compost of observation, out-of-date theory, and speculation. Some students think disgust emerges out of social norms and culture, others find magical thinking about contamination at its roots, others claim that it grows out of an innate distaste for bad food, and many subscribe to the view that it serves to defend our psyches—to keep us from too much awareness of the unpleasant facts of our animal nature and of our ultimate destiny, which is to become organic waste material ourselves.⁵ One of the most influential theories puts disgust of dirt at the heart of the way societies are ordered. The argument goes that if we did not reject and revile certain objects and actions, they would threaten the whole fabric of society.⁶ Some theorists have even thrown their hands up and suggested that the manifestations of disgust are so multiform and so various that they defy coherent explanation.⁷

Disgust certainly is puzzling; it is so powerful and sometimes so apparently irrational that it can seem magical. To find it playing so many roles in so many spheres of life seems to defeat scientific explanation. Yet science and the scientific approach can help us make sense of this messy and multifarious topic. We can systematically trace the ancient origins of disgust back to our earliest animal ancestors. We can hypothesize about disgust’s functions and its component mental structures and test these hypotheses in rigorous experiments. We can unpick the story of how and why disgust plays a role in our moral behavior. And we can use it to unweave the rainbow:⁸ to find the strands that can make sense of age-old questions such as how our ancient biological natures have influenced the content of our cultures, and how our cultures have, in turn, influenced our natures.

The story of disgust needs to be retold, this time from the start, and in the right order. Therefore this book starts with disgust’s ancient function as a system that bestows on animals the ability to avoid parasites—those ubiquitous body snatchers that hitch lifts and sneak free lunches from their hosts. As the story unfolds, we see how invertebrates, vertebrates, mammals, and primates evolved the behavioral capacities needed to deal with threats from parasites and pathogens.⁹ Parasite-avoidance behavior is everywhere in the evolutionary tree of life; humans are but one branch, with more in common with our animal cousins than we may like to think.

Humans, however, have also developed some special capacities that are beyond other animals. We are probably the only species that can track parasites by using our imaginations—by conjuring pictures of spreading waves of contagion in our minds. We are probably also the only species to be able to imagine ourselves being disgusted in the future. This has huge evolutionary benefits—we can stay home when there’s plague about to avoid encountering sick people. We can choose to put food in the refrigerator today because we can imagine a rotten mess tomorrow. Humans are also the only species with manners—sets of behavioral rules that protect one another, the absence of which occasions disgust and the punishment of the offender. Finally, humans have found a novel use for disgust: employing it to punish social parasites—shunning and excluding the thief, the abuser, and the cheat from society. Recent experiments suggest that disgust may have played a fundamental role in the evolution of morality. Moral disgust has a strong claim to be essential to the human ability to cooperate on a mass scale, which is the main reason that Homo sapiens is such an exceptional and successful kind of animal.

It is important that we better understand the biological roots of disgust, not just because disgust underpins morality and altruism, but also because it fuels some of the worst behavior in our societies. Disgust lurks on the dark side of human nature, rearing its ugly head in bullying; cruelty; class hatred; the exclusion of the sick, the aged, and the disabled; homophobia; racism; war; and genocide. Disgust can all too easily be turned on others and used as a weapon. Disgust teaches us wider lessons too; it tells us something about the nature of emotions—where they come from, what they are for, how they work, and how they shape our behavior as individuals and in groups. Disgust has an irresistible story to tell about what it means to be human.

Living with Disgust

I’ve been on the trail of disgust for many years. I itch when I think about my trip down the Cloaca Maxima—the hot, stinky, and extremely claustrophobic ancient sewer that carries Rome’s wastes into the river Tiber. Disgust has invaded every part of my life. Dinner-party conversation somehow inevitably turns to speculation about the revolting, usually as an accompaniment to dessert. This is Val, my brother says when introducing me, she’s big in poo. And in my turn, I have given friends, colleagues, and students plenty to laugh about with the plastic turd I carry around and the nasty stories I’ve collected.

Disgust is great fun, but it is also deadly serious. In Africa two-thirds of all deaths are due to infections. In the UK the infection death rate is only one in twenty. My experience of living a large part of my professional life in Africa taught me that this scandalous disparity can be resolved, and that investment in infection prevention is money well spent. Living in Africa also taught me that infections can be so common that the parasites that cause them must have exerted a strong selection pressure on brains and behavior. While carrying out studies of hygiene behavior in Bangladesh, Burkina Faso, China, India, Uganda, Vietnam, Indonesia, and Kyrgyzstan, I saw that different rules of behavior around cleaning and eating seemed to have a common thread—that of courtesy with bodily fluids, of not disgusting others, if at all possible. Far from being a superficial issue, I saw that manners are an important way for people to show that they are conforming to society’s rules and thus avoid social exclusion. As I followed the genocide in Rwanda, I saw the vocabulary of disgust exploited with hypocrisy by leaders who knew how to use it to bolster their own power.

In short, I realized that disgust has a powerful hold over us, dictating what we do, not just about microbes but also about manners and morality. So now, instead of turning away in revulsion, dear reader, I invite you to look, touch, and eat disgust (at least in imagination). You are invited on a journey of discovery, into the dark side of human nature.

CHAPTER ONE

EVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS

Pus, vomit, urination, menstruation, sexual fluids and so on—all substances and acts that, for some reason, many cultures tend to see as repellent and, despite their constant presence in human life, as abnormal.

A. K. Reinhart, Impurity/No Danger

Eureka moments are what every scientist lives for. I’d been mired in sheaves of data, mostly long transcripts of interviews with women in India, Africa, and Europe about their personal hygiene. I’d been asking them what they did, why they cleaned up after their kids, why they used soap and detergents, why they groomed themselves and tidied their houses, and why they washed their hands, or—more often—why they didn’t. The women found it surprisingly hard to explain their cleaning and preening behavior. Often as not, they said that they felt that they needed to remove things that were yuck—the smelly, the clammy, the ugly, or the nasty. But when I asked them to explain why, we got stuck. They are just yuck! they would say.

Here are some of the things that Dutch women found revolting: feces, cats, aphids in lettuce, hairs, dogs, pollution, vermin, dog hairs, drug users, vomit, dog saliva, drunkenness, dust, rotten waste, fat people, sweat, bad-smelling food, insulting, stickiness, food leftovers, politicians, offal, worms, dirty old men, fishmongers’ hands, flies.

And here is what women in Burkina Faso told me that they found disgusting: feces, dirty latrine, dirty food, unswept yard, diarrhea, impure substances associated with birth, flies on food, sores, rubbish in the yard, worms, sexual relations before a child is weaned, smelly drains, dirty clothes, rubbish heaps, sick people, pigs, vomit.

Closer to home, I asked a group of women in Cheshire, in the north of England, to write about disgust, and these are what they chose: feces, stained kitchen, dirty hotel, dog shit, flies, dirty cafeteria, cat shit, dead sparrow, dirty play area, dog diarrhea, rotten food, drunks, child shit on the sofa, moldy food, drunken louts, vomit, rank smell of old grease, rude people, wounds, dirty nails, foul language, maggots, eating with mouth open, man beating a woman, sweaty person, eating a burger that a stranger had bitten into, body parts in jars, cruelty to a horse, stained toilet, cleaning another’s false teeth, wounding of an old lady.

If you compare these Dutch, African, and English examples with the Indian list in the introduction, you’ll see that what, at first sight, looks like a ragbag of unrelated rejecta does, in fact, have themes. All of the lists include bodily wastes and body products. All include bad foods, contaminated objects, and immoral behavior. But, like the women who had