New waves, Ancient Shores

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There are still a handful of people alive today who predate the airplane and radio. Many more were around to see the first television broadcasts and flights into space; almost everyone reading this magazine was born before the mobile phone and the Internet. The changes that have occurred in a single human lifetime take the breath away.

It is tempting to view that headlong progress as integral to the human condition, but it was not always so. For the most part, cultural development has moved more slowly than glaciers, imperceptible to those who participated in it. As the historical philosopher Ronald Wright observed, for 99.5% of mankind's existence "the human world that individuals entered at birth was the same as the one they left at death." Nothing ever changed, for generation upon generation.

The archaeological record suggests that a particular style of stone tool might have been used for a hundred thousand years without revision or modification during the first two million years of our history. For Westerners who see their technology and gadgets superseded on what can feel like a weekly basis, it is hard to believe we belong to the same species as people who did not know the wheel.

In the remote islands of the South Pacific, however, there remain tribes that are the last links to that changeless way of life, some making contact with the outside world for the first time last century; and there are many for whom the traditions of their ancestors are vibrantly alive. Yet in the cultural tug-of-war, the pull of modernity is powerful and relentless, and though some dig in their heels, the ties to tradition are beginning to fray.

Sadly, it is not hard to predict the outcome. The tendency to homogeneity is as irresistible as gravity. We see it in the world's languages: from a rough total of 6,000 spoken today, linguists fear half will disappear within the next generation; 90% will be gone by the end of this century. And with each tongue that is silenced, every dance that is forgotten, every song and headdress design that slips from tribal memory, we sense that part of humanity's common heritage is lost.

But we should beware of the patronizing notion of the Noble Savage. Many abandon the old ways through choice, while others are eager to exploit them for their commercial and tourism potential; some distort custom and tradition to their own advantage, political or pecuniary. It is not for the outsider to pick over these ancient cultures and decide what should be preserved, but for as long as they survive they are tiny windows, slowly closing, on how we all once lived.