It was a scientific experiment about the power of touch, the hypothesis being that the physical act of touching—a light friendly touch on the arm or hand that had none of the elements of the invasive, sexual advance—produced a positive reaction and elicited helpful, co-operative behaviour. The experiment was conducted in a busy part of the town, in which two matched groups were instructed to act as ordinary shoppers seeking some information about the time from those coming out of a phone booth, the first group to accompany the request with a slight, friendly touch of the arm, and the second to just make the request with no accompanying action. The results of the experiment showed that a significantly larger number of people responded more readily and in a friendlier manner when they were touched.

The experiment probably did no more than confirm an observation that most of us have made. The act of touching implies friendliness and connotes warmth; it is almost like saying, ‘I like you; I am comfortable with you, I trust you.’ Indeed, the value of touch, as the psychologists tell us, goes much deeper, straight to the core of our emotional needs as human beings. The unhugged child grows up insecure; the man or woman who says casually that the spouse is ‘undemonstrative’ is probably suffering a serious affection deficit that will, at some stage, demand correction.

Many years ago, when I was a student, I used to accompany a friend to do charity work in an orphanage. It struck me that all the babies in the orphanage were sadly undersized. At that time, I thought it was the inferior food they were given. But I understood later that it was as much the lack of touch as the food; they were never carried up from their cots, dandled, bounced on the knee, hugged, kissed. I remember that on one visit I picked up a little girl who was three years old and looked barely two. I carried her in my arms and gently stroked her arms and face. She looked bewildered and started crying, probably because the unfamiliarity of the action frightened her.

The vital need for touch for an infant to develop at all is seen even in the case of premature babies kept alive in special incubators. The more they are stroked and caressed, the faster will be their development. When I see those programs of young couples preparing for parenthood, which always have a charming scene where the husband bends down to caress the wife’s growing belly, sometimes pressing his face against it and saying, ‘Hey, Baby, it’s Daddy! How are you?’, I think it’s just not some parental cuteness, but wise understanding of the power of touch, even at the foetal stage.

I wrote a story about a little boy whose divorced mother would sing him to sleep every night, weaving stories about his beloved teddy bear whom he called ‘Pooh Bear’, never leaving the room before giving him and his bear an enormous hug each. When she started dating, her stories and the hugs ended, and so did the boy’s relationship with his bear, for one evening he violently flung it out of the window and thereafter slept alone curled up tightly inside his blanket. If the story had not ended there, I probably would have written about an insecure young man who had trouble in his relationships with women.

I think I could write a story about a friend who told me that during the last difficult year before she and her husband separated, she had a special yearning, even as they were shouting at each other, telling me wistfully, ‘If only he would come up to me, and just touch me, just a small touch on the shoulder, since he couldn’t bear to look at my face.’

The need for touch is seen in the animal world too, showing it is the very essence of life itself. Chimps groom each other meticulously, lifting wads of fur to reach down to bare skin; one cannot but be impressed by the look of sheer contentment on the faces of both groomer and groomed as they engage in this exercise of trust, intimacy and bonding.

We once had a dog, a cocker spaniel named Scamp who was a favourite with my two young children. It showed many human emotions, one being annoyance at being left out of a family outing, and the need to take revenge for the neglect. When we returned home, we would find that it had deliberately left used tissue paper and other bits of garbage on each of our beds! Fortunately, Scamp compensated for this nasty tendency with a most endearing habit—it liked to touch and be touched, so that if you were sitting next to it and did nothing, it would nudge you impatiently with its paw as if to say, ‘Hey, I’m human too!’, stopping only if you put a reassuring arm around it.

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About Vignettes...

A continuing flow of little, readable pieces that will constitute what I feel is an important 'legacy of values' to leave behind. Read more about Vignettes...