I WAS AT the water park out in Christ Church years ago. We sat down to listen to the tour guide talk about the fish in a very big saltwater tank. All kinds of fish were in this tank. From predatory sharks to fish that would be shark food in the wild.
In that tank was a species of fish, the name of which I forget. This species of fish would swim in a well organised formation when freely roaming the ocean. It was normally a schooling fish. In the wild it had an order and a culture and each of those fish would have been part of a group that worked together for the mutual benefit of all. While in captivity in that tank in Christ Church, each fish swam all about the place like Poonka donkey. In that saltwater tank in Christ Church it was every fish for himself.
It reminded me of human beings. Mankind figured out very early, that if he moved in groups, each individual was less likely to be eaten by a sabre-toothed tiger. Not only were we safer from predatory animals when in organised groups, we also made better predators. Humans who hunted in groups had longer lives and fuller bellies. Long before the first schools were opened, humans were moving around in schools, like fish.
In the tank called modern society, this aspect of human nature breaks down a little. Schooling is less necessary, at least, for survival. Nowadays we can easily eat and avoid being eaten without being a part of a roving troop or a fortified camp. Until the Zombie apocalypse comes, we will probably be able to get away with modern isolation and individualism.
Nowadays we mostly school for psychological comfort and for fun. We don’t go to Kadooment or church to hunt or to feed (unless you call looking for scantily clad women “hunting”, or praying to receive blessings “looking for food”). We go to feel good and exercise an old part of our nature. Fellowship activities like these take advantage of our urge to school; to gather in groups. But because of the security and abundance of modern western society, increasingly we are swimming in our own little bubbles.
The tour guide explained that once you took this type of fish out of its natural habitat and in to the man-made environment of a fish tank, the nature of the species would break down. They had no good reason to school. They were surrounded by tamed pool sharks. They were no natural predators to guard against.
A few times a day the caretakers would pelt free food into the tanks, so schooling was unnecessary, even for feeding. In the institutionalised environment of the water park, every fish was an island, free to swim in whatever haphazard pattern he chose. The more society moves forward, human beings become freer to march to the beat of their own drum.
This is as long as that drum fits the shape of the tank. The water-park fish can swim however they like, but they can never swim any further than the walls of the tank permit. We trade the space to roam cautiously in the wild, for carefree confinement.
There is a critical difference between human beings and the water-park fish. There is no class or race among the water-park fish. No big fish nor small fish. No economic disparity nor societal bias. The fish in the tank swim their own way and that is the end of it. No fish fights for a bigger volume of water to swim in than the other. They might be skirmishes at feeding time but every fish gets a fish’s share.
In the human tank, some fish realise that if they form small schools they can dominate the majority of other fish who swim it alone or in disorganised groups. They organise to control larger and larger areas of the tank and push the other fish into tighter and tighter corners. The other fish are oblivious. In their tight corners they feel free. They are not being hunted, food is still floating around the tank and they can swim about without having to follow any other fish’s path. They do not realise that as the space they occupy becomes more and more restricted and tight, the more they are forced to swim in formation just to avoid collisions. They are schooling again but this time in an unsustainable space.
Human schools have names like families, clans, tribes, nations, races, religious organisations, political parties, gangs etc. When you mention the word gang all kinds of negative associations arise. But forming a gang is the most basic human strategy for survival, older than making tools. From the smallest family to the largest nation is a kind of gang. The strongest gangs eat the most food, control the most land, and usually have the least stress.
As things get tighter and more miserable, clashes and collisions are inevitable. Individuals start to turn on each other in a struggle for a spot of space and air. Once again you find yourself as prey. Once again schooling to hunt and to stay safe becomes a sound strategy.
Adrian Green is a creative communications specialist.
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