. . . his hunched shoulders and the concavity of his belly which had become his adopted posture, the attempt to minimize or apologize for the height that lofted him so much above his fellows . . . he was crouching more than usual in Neveau’s presence trying to signal Neveau that their heights should be reversed.
-Hugh Atkinson, The Most Savage Animal
In the Prince William Sound area of coastal Alaska, in early winter, the cool air from the mountain snow rolls down the fjords to meet the warm seawater, casting eerie wisps of fog in among the black conifers. The misty rain is incessant, and combines with the gray clouds to produce a ghostly world without color. But if you’re willing to climb through the deep moss of the rain forest on up through the tangle of devil’s club and alder and leave the lap of the surf well below, there is a sight well worth the effort. Here in the small snow-blown meadows scattered between the steep rim rocks and sweeping cirque bowls is the land of the white mountain goat, which is not really a goat but a furry white relative of the European chamois.
Early winter is a time of both drama and trauma for the male mountain goats; it is the time of the rut. Mountain goats are promiscuous, and the copulatory rights go to the dominant males. Usually, dominance is decided by a stereotyped display, but when neither gives ground, the nine-inch stiletto horns are brought into action. There are few ruts that pass in any area without some blood-letting, and sometimes even death. This prospect gives the threat display a seriousness not found in some other species, where the most at stake is a battered brow and relegation to subordinate status. One can sense a terror and urgency in the display even at binocular distance.
A billy approaches another, who is with a small nanny band. The two meet and stand head to head. Their heads are lowered, but the backs are thrown high. Every hair along the shoulder crest is held erect as the two stand together like massive blocks of white quartz. Time seems suspended. Then they walk around each other as if around the rim of a prescribed circle. Intimidated by the apparent massive size of his opponent, the challenger steps aside, and jumps back as the incumbent lowers his head in a horn thrust position. The challenger moves away from the small herd and begins to nibble at the sparse vegetation protruding through the snow. One realizes that an important social issue has just been settled - this time, at little immediate expense to either party.
Although the particulars of this display vary considerably among animals, there is somewhat the same kind of information exchange running through many different groups. The goats were displaying their respective size. An even better clue to the opponent's stature, if one doesn’t have the time to assess each area and contour at leisure, is a quick glance at his height.
The high crest of hair running along the mountain goat's back dramatizes his display of height. Crests along the neck, shoulder, or sacral curve are common among mammals. Sometimes they are limp and can be raised in threat, (for instance, in dogs), but in other groups, such as the mountain goat, they are always partially erected.
Our most familiar experiences with crests or hackles are with dogs and cats. Watch your dog as he begins to bark at a passerby. Even in the short-haired breeds, the hair along the ridge of the back becomes erect. (Rhodesian ridgebacks are a breed in which it is permanently erected.) Coyotes and wolves have a special colored tuft on their shoulder crest that is erected in the threat display. A house cat fluffed-up, hissing, and advancing sideways toward another cat erects the hair along the top more than in any other area.
Height displays centering on the back and especially on the shoulder crests have not only resulted in specialized hair patches, but in more meaty structures as well. Social anatomy is not always just skin deep; sometimes it is bone deep, figuring into the sculpturing of an animal’s framework. The bison, for example, has a shoulder hump built up on bony supports. The humps of the old world camels and zebu cattle (sometimes called Brahmas in North America) have a fleshy hump without bony support. More often than not, these specialized height-display structures are contrastingly colored.
We think of body shape as being purely related to how the animal interacts with its physical environment (swims, runs, slides through holes, etc.), but there also seems to be a social component. Species with a broadside display have become flattened on that plane. Pan-fish are almost a study in two dimensions, while the warthog has a frontal, face-on display and accordingly has a very broad, flaring face.
The social organs for the display of height are intimately associated with the particular pose that is used. In many species (such as foxes, seals, and many antelope) the head high display is performed with the muzzle stretched upwards. Several kinds of markings dramatize and accent this gesture. One is the white throat patch so common in head-high displayers. As the head is lifted, the white underside of the chin is exposed, further adding to the signal that a height display is being performed and is to be heeded. Crests on the head are common among birds and also among primates. Apes stand on two legs, further dramatizing their height. Gorillas even have a large crest of hair on their crowns which is erected in threat.
We are no exception to the trend in these other species: we also have varied organs associated with our height displays, just as deer have throat patches and dogs have hackles. Height displays are important in our behavior; they permeate our daily lives, our cultural values, our vocabulary of hierarchy, our clothes, our dates or marriage partners, and our body itself.
Being physically above another person gives one an almost inherent social advantage. A judge’s platform, an emperor’s chair, a minister’s podium, or a teacher’s lectern are frequently constructed so that the person has his head above the audience, as much to increase his authority as his visibility.
There seems to be a basic biological component to our reactions of physical position. Hazlett, observing contests between hermit crabs, found that the crab elevated slightly above another had a significant probability of becoming the dominant. The South American vicuna (a gangly camel) has a habit of standing on a tall tussock to gain height when it displays a head-high threat. The vicuna’s fights are attempts to lower the opponent’s head by neck-wrestling. In much the same way, human fights are often rituals of lowering the opponent's body by throwing him from his feet or pinning his shoulder to the ground.
In his book, The Silent Language, Hall made the point that we come to accept our sub-group gestures to be so normal that we often offend people of other subgroups inadvertently by using the same gestures of communication to them, for whom our meanings are entirely different. This same principle applies on a larger scale to communication between our species and others. To many mammal groups that use a height display, an upright, two-legged posture is a signal of threat; but of course, this is the usual mode of human locomotion. So when we approach members of these species, we are not consciously transmitting a threatening signal, but it is interpreted as such.
Heini Hediger found that a human can be much less offensive to kangaroos by walking in a bowed position. Since his observation, zookeepers the world over have had an easier time in the kangaroo pens. Another ethologist, Eibl Eibesfeldt, has remarked that sea lions can be intimidated "by virtue of human's superior height." A vertical head high posture is also an important first part of the threat display of most bear species. I have two shy female arctic wolves. They are much bolder when I am sitting, and quite wary when I’m standing. My small son, is a delight to them, they show no trace of caution with him.
Fewer physical aspects play so important a part in our social lives as height. When a boy five feet two inches tall asks a girl of five-eleven for a date, he puts her in a bind. On one hand she recognizes the status nature of height and is uncomfortable with the physical arrangement of taking the role of the dominant; yet she also recognizes rationally that individual worth is poorly correlated with height. Her more immediate feelings are repulsion and guilt. In a highly mixed society, like that in the Western world, where superficial status signals play a major role, a very short man and an exceptionally tall woman are in an awkward social position even if not together. You can see our values about height in statements like, "She was tall, almost six feet, but her grace and smile had a softening effect" (Paul Gallico, The Poseidon Adventure).
But it isn’t only the unusually short or tall who feel the impact of the status value of height; it is all of us. We talk about rising to meet the challenge, not taking it lying down, her highness, one-upmanship, condescending, looking up to someone, being above that kind of behavior, walking tall, feeling low, upstanding, giving a boost to the ego, the social ladder, the lower classes, haughty, hauteur, stuck-up, high society, lording it over someone, head of the class, bringing up the rear, being on the bottom - even the terms stature and status themselves relate to height.
The inherent connection between height and status in our lives can be found deep in the pattern of human development. First, we live pretty much on a common substrate with the rest of our species. This we share with most of the apes, but not many monkeys. Arboreal, or tree dwelling, monkeys have a poorly developed height form of threat display because the presence of another above him has no necessary relevance to his absolute status. In addition to all the "folks" being on the ground - a common baseline for judging height - there is secondly an important relationship between status and age. In a group where knowledge, experience, and strength are part of the social hierarchy, status cannot but be related to age. Just ask any 10-year-old child.
The correlation between age and status is especially apparent in animals like ourselves where there is a long period of development before reproductive maturity. The better part of one’s first two decades consists of looking directly at peers, down at subordinates (underclassmen), and up at those who are dominant. So we arrive at our adult height thoroughly conditioned into regarding height as a direct clue to status. And in varying degrees we react accordingly to everyone we meet and they to us. In essence, a short man is treated more like a juvenile than a taller one is, all else being equal. Since being treated like a juvenile denies him his just status, he is likely to make a compensation.
The stereotypes of the tall, dumb hick and the short, cocky tough are exaggerations of what is basically a real phenomenon. In order to be successful if one is deficient in a threat-display component, one has to compensate by exaggerating other aspects. In the case of the short man, he often becomes hyper-aggressive - by creating or conveying an image of high sexual accomplishment, driving himself to excellence in a status profession, or being a fast talker.
Such behavioral compensation, by one who is socially handicapped in obtaining status, is in my opinion a much more useful principle in understanding behavioral irregularities than, for example, an "Oedipus complex." It is a familiar feature of the nouveau riche - the drive behind Robert Ruark’s hero in Poor No More. It is an almost universal character of women competing in what is traditionally a man’s profession. Indeed, professional women with high aspirations in a field where a strong masculine bias exists often exhibit in remarkable detail almost a "small man" syndrome.
But this principle of status compensation has its opposite counterpart. Tall men, with their decided status edge, are almost apologetic about it.
Henry did not realize how big he was until he stood up; he was six feet three or so, and he stooped and looked a little ashamed of his height, like so many overgrown men.
- Herman Wouk; Winds of War
Generally if someone has a position of high stature in one area, the pressures for status are likely to be less in others. As an example, there seems to be little competition among academic types over what sort of automobile one drives; whereas among assembly-line workers, where professional excellence is difficult to distinguish or isn’t revered, a new, powerful car carries more status values.
Height also plays a role in our carriage. When we are feeling confident and dominant we walk straight and erect; when feeling dejected and "low" we slump and slouch. Like most species which use height in threat display, we use some form of decreased height as a gesture or symbol of appeasement. In a ritual way, we bow, curtsy, kneel and prostrate ourselves before dominants. We lower our height customarily by removing headgear (or saluting, a ritualized reach for the cap brim) in front of superiors or in front of those whom we do not wish to offend (women, elders, etc.). Coming "hat in hand" is a symbol of appeasement.
The use of height for purposes of status has other repercussions throughout our behavior. It affects our gait and the corresponding social values we apply to gaits. In a marching column of men, the taller are placed in the front and seem to be mechanical toys - the torso relatively rigid and the head on a constant plane. But as one nears the end of the column where the shorter men are, one notices an undulating vertical movement of the rows and a pronounced pelvic waddle. In order to keep in step, the shorter ones must stride farther relative to their size and rotate their upper torsos more. The effect produced is a vertical bobbing of heads land an agitated bearing in the last rank. These same differences in gait are noticeable when several people are walking down the street at a leisurely pace, even though there is no necessity to keep in step. However, a small person usually combines a long stride with a faster step to keep up with his taller associates. Carriage and gaits have become secondary social signals.
In finishing and modeling schools, young girls learn to modify their gait and posture by carrying books on their heads. The desired movements are fairly short to medium steps, little agitation of the torso, and a movement of the head in a horizontal plane. Deviations from this cause the book to jiggle off. These movements are essentially the natural movements of a taller person. Dwarfs are often used in comedy parts because their disproportionately short legs exaggerate the hip swing movements of a shorter person. It is relevant to the height issue to observe that the pity we feel for dwarfs has little to do directly with their growth pathology, but for their social disadvantage.
One would not at first guess that the social uses of height have affected the evolution of our brow gesture. Most monkeys have a "high brow" threat, as they look "goggle eyed" directly at their opponents. Men and the apes, on the other hand, have a "low brow" scowl.
Apes who live on the ground, in contrast to arboreal monkeys, have evolved important displays because of their radically differing heights due to their upright posture. Over the long period of juvenile development, a young ape or boy looks up to adults, that is, raises this eyes and brow, and he is looked down upon with lowered eyes and brow. Brows up is an admission of smaller size - younger age - the juvenile or subordinate signals. Brows down symbolically relegates the associate to a subordinate or younger class (looking down on someone).
The hairy eyebrow is a social organ that accentuates these signals. There are several telling pieces of evidence pointing to its function as a communications ornament. The eyebrow undergoes a marked change during puberty. Small children have poorly developed brow hair, and what little of it there is usually a fine light velum. If it serves some physical function, as physical anthropologists have suggested (like keeping the rain out of the eyes), one would expect the need to be as great among the young as among adults.
There are also prominent sexual differences in brow hair. Males usually have longer or thicker brow hair. Though there is some overlap between the sexes, females rarely develop the coarse, heavy "John L. Lewis" type of eyebrows.
The hairy brow patch seems to function as a contrast line, giving the signal of brow position greater clarity and emphasis. Though this is undoubtedly the main social function of brow hair, it doesn't account completely for age and sexual variations.
Disproportionate brow hair development among older males seems to provide a false contour to the underlying bony brow. This brow ridge was an important sexually distinctive character of our early ancestors. It seems to have a role in the threat display, among primates, of permanently accentuating the lowered brow. As we shall see, it also has a role in obscuring optical signals. Even to us, the exaggerated, protruding bony brows of an old male gorilla connote awesome intimidation. Hence fiction writers portray it as a dangerous beast, even though it is a rather shy vegetarian. The thick row of hair across the brow ridge in older human males gives the underlying structure a more permanently lowered appearance.
Unlike the bony brow ridge of our ancestors, which was a rather "fixed" social organ (like permanently erected hackles), the false brow of eyebrow hair provides much the same signal, yet it is mobile enough to run through a broad range of social signals. Unlike the beard, which only contributes to dominance, the human hairy brow can communicate the extremes of intense aggression or of fear, and, when combined with other facial movements, many other emotions.
The popular habit of modifying the eyebrows cosmetically adds some insight into their function and evolution. Eyebrows are important organs of beauty, as the inscription from the Egyptian Book of the Dead proclaims: "Thine eyebrows are twin goddesses who sit enthroned in peace." Cosmeticians pluck the low-brow and paint on a higher arch of the high brow to give a fixed air of attentiveness and receptivity. In a sense, this creates a stimulus of mild subordination. In much the same way that they carefully pluck any chin or moustache hairs to reduce the signal of aggression (masculinity), women cosmetically thin their brows, giving them a more juvenile appearance.
Women also remove the hair directly above the bridge of the nose (the area physical anthropologists refer to as the glabella), because any indication that the brow ridge runs continuously across the face smacks of extreme masculinity and caveman coarseness. The separation of bony brow ridge or hairy brow into two disconnected arcades is a character of juveniles, females, and fine-featured males.
The chin, though basically a weapon display, also seems to be affected by a kind of height. Kids see mainly the lower half of adults’ heads and adults see the top part of juveniles’ heads, especially during a confrontation. Lifting the head to protrude the jaw toward peers gives kids and adults alike the same picture they received from taller folks when they were young. This eyes-down, raised-face gesture has become the cartoonists’ standard of aloofness; snooty, nose-in-the-air, stuck up.
Erectile shoulder hackles are one of the main mammalian modes of increasing height and enlarging outline. Chimps and dogs both erect them in threat - especially in the form of threat referred to as defensive threat, (attempting to ward off an attacker). We don’t use this gesture anymore, but have a remnant of its ancient wiring, which still persists. Eibl-Eibesfeldt has referred to it as a "shoulder shudder." It is a contraction of the skin muscles in the back along the middle of the shoulder blades toward the crest of the spine. This vestigial hackle display is triggered when we hear an eerie sound, learn of an especially repugnant incident, barely miss an accident.
Colloquially, it is a "shiver up and down the spine." In its milder form, a wave of hair erection creeps along the fuzz up the spine, for that "creepy sensation."
Height displays permeate many of the subtle gestures we make toward one another. Kummer observed that among baboons who are embracing each other, it is not always the larger animal who lets its chin rest on the nape of the other, but the one of higher rank. The one of lower rank plays the role of a young animal and rests its head on the chest of its companion. Similarly, if a human couple are walking arm-in-arm or holding hands, it is the man's which is uppermost. In animal copulation, it is the male’s prerogative to mount on top.
Height definitely influences clothing styles particularly hair and head dressing. The history, of the hat is intertwined with increasing apparent height and stature. As in putting on a pair of high-heeled cowboy boots, many feel an ego lift in donning a high hat. Turbans, bearskin hats, crown-plumes and others all add status by adding height. The modern officer's cap reminds one of false-front building with its forward-sweeping crest as an artificial extension of the forehead.
High society events are often marked in Western culture by women's styles which accentuate height: hair piled high on the head, high-heeled shoes. When a woman relaxes from the status struggle, her action may be symbolized by "letting her hair down." Curly or kinky hair in some human subgroups gives loft to the hair, increasing apparent head size and body height, as does the hair-whorl of other subgroups in a somewhat different way.
If most of our humanness is connected to the evolution of our two-legged or upright stance, then one can make a good case-for height displays being a critical element in the evolution of many uniquely human features. Our invasion of the predatory niche depended upon the use of hand weapons - a weak "carnivore" using wit and rocks to kill, instead of tooth and muscle. As many authors have recently stressed, being a primate predator provided the necessary combination for becoming the thinking primate.
As in animals that use a broadside display, the frontal display of bipeds shows off the whole body mass. Attention is pulled to the belly or chest rather than the side. It is more than accidental that one of the trends among bipeds is belly-to-back flattening.
The success of a two-legged animal that uses its arms in combat is roughly correlated with the mass of the upper torso, shoulders, and arms, all else being equal. It is not surprising, then, that this area would be used in threat. Flattening of the chest increases the apparent if not the real body mass.
Kangaroos, a non-primate group of bipeds, have also undergone some chest flattening. The males fight mainly with their forelegs. They flex their chest and arm muscles as part of their threat, just as we do, further increasing the apparent massiveness of the chest and shoulders. The gorilla has a relatively flat chest that shows off his torso, and he slaps it for both visual and sound display (similar in principle to a sneer being accompanied by a growl). The inhalation of air to expand the chest is a dominant part of the human expression of either pride or offense (two occasions when we use our threat display).
As the forelimbs became more important in aggression, the two-legged stance was struck not only in fighting but also to present a more formidable appearance in height and breadth as part of a threat. The contemporary "knuckle walking" primates also resort to the bipedal stance in displaying threat. Thus, the breakthrough that was produced by freeing the forelimbs may have occurred hand-in-hand with the evolution of our threat display pattern. Much of our humanness stems, in part, from our particular mode of aggression.
In Konrad Lorenz's discussion of the human communal defense reaction (one's response when the Alma Mater is played, or when the flag passes by), he observes that a shiver runs down the back, and, as more exact observation shows, along the outside of. both arms. The arms are raised from the sides and rotated inwardly so that the elbows stick out . . . the head is proudly raised and the chin, stuck out." The shiver, of course, is the "goose pimples" from the vestigial response of hair erection. In the chimpanzee and gorilla this intimidation posture is still important as a threat signal.
The chimpanzee has well-developed hair on the outer surface of the arms, and it is erected during the threat display. Gorillas have the best developed shoulder and lower arm manes of the apes. The mountain gorilla, in particular, has spectacular hair development of the lower arm; the hair flows out sideways at right angles from the body axis and is brought into full display in chest slapping.
It is probable that arm hair once played a more important role in our own threat display than it does now, This is also true of hair on the chest. Chest, arm and leg hair seem to function in a similar manner to chin whiskers, in increasing the apparent size of the organ on which they grow and in drawing the opponent's attention to that area of the body. Gorillas, and some men, have shoulder hair crests on the back and shoulders, rather like biological epaulets. As in most other display organs, strong sexual and age differences in hair emphasize the opponent's degree of social dominance.
It is difficult to overemphasize size and height as factors in the evolution of our social organs. It has also been vital in governing our impressions of others and, of course, in determining our own self-confidence. And we can now begin to see how hair is related to our values of size and height. Little wonder hair is an emotionally loaded subject at any age.