Why We Tweet
Ever wonder what birds are saying? Mostly it’s just, “I’m over here!” and “I’m over here!”
A few years ago, I was sitting in a dentist’s waiting room and couldn’t help overhearing the two receptionists as they chatted while doing their work. One was filing in an alcove, the other answering phones and checking in patients at the desk. Through it all, they kept up a desultory stream of conversation about… nothing at all.
Some years before, I’d read about how zebra finches talk all the time and mostly seem to be saying “I’m over here.” More recently, I’d been living with roosters, who — contrary to popular belief — crow not just at sunrise but all day long. The red jungle fowl who are the wild relatives of modern chickens evolved in the jungles of South Asia. The constant crowing of the roosters allows these social animals to keep track of one another despite the dense foliage. Similarly, Bobwhite quail routinely signal their position to anybody who might care by means of the familiar two-note whistle from which their popular name derives.
Sitting in the dentist’s office that day, I realized that those receptionists were doing the same. Neither appeared particularly interested in the content of their vacuous conversation. They were just… keeping in touch. Periodically, one or another of their family members would call to check in.
We evolved in the trees too, developing language only long after we came out of the jungle and into the grasslands. Our desire to know each other’s location is very deep and pre-dates complex, information-rich speech.
And so it seems to me that recent critiques of the emptiness of Twitter feeds may be misplaced. Maybe all of our twittering, texting, and (yes) blogging are just modern means of satisfying our deep need to know where our people are. Maybe Twitter “tweets” are vacuous because all we really need to say to do that is, “I’m over here!”
