Ah, the summer of 2006. Although many of us spent hours either bringing sexy back or riding dirty, there was really only one song that proved both entertaining and educational. In her electronic club sensation, Cascada’s “Everytime We Touch” shed light on one of the defining characteristics of all mammal life— our insatiable need to touch and be touched.
First, let’s link to the video here, and have everyone realize that they definitely still know the words to this song. Let’s also quote the song’s chorus for future reference:
Cause everytime we touch, I get this feeling.
And everytime we kiss I swear I could fly.
Can't you feel my heart beat fast, I want this to last.
Need you by my side.
As Cascada recounts the power of her lover’s touch, we need only look to one psychologist, Harry Harlow, to comprehend why Cascada thrives on physical contact.
Before I get into the specifics of Harlow’s work, I want to discuss how it is a classic example of research that will never be replicated. Harlow’s work, done mostly in the 50s and 60s, was completed before the creation of institutional review boards, which currently impose strict ethical guidelines on all research. So, due to the appalling nature of Harlow’s studies, there is absolutely no way they would be approved today (two other examples of highly informative but ethically questionable work can be seen here and here).
Don’t get me wrong; I think ethics in research is a good idea and I would hope that we never attempt more work similar to Harlow’s. Nevertheless, Harlow’s immoral and inhumane research can teach us a great deal about who we are and what we need. Perhaps most importantly, I doubt anyone nowadays has the heart to conduct research like Harlow’s, because Harry Harlow did some really mean things to some really cute monkeys.
In his studies investigating the roots of social behavior, Harlow conducted research that might really make you squirm. For instance, using a device Harlow himself called “the rape rack,” he forced copulation between rhesus monkeys. In another experiment, he isolated infant monkeys for up to a full year (to predictably disastrous consequences).
Yet in his most famous study, and the one most applicable to “Everytime We Touch”, Harlow took infant rhesus monkeys from their mothers and placed them in a cage that had two “surrogate” mothers. One of these moms was made entirely of wire, the other made of soft terrycloth. For half of the monkeys, the terrycloth mom provided the lone source of food. For the other half, food came solely from the wire mother.
Harlow’s observations were as touching as they were conclusive. He quickly noticed that, regardless of which surrogate provided the food, rhesus monkeys indiscriminately preferred the terrycloth mother. As you can see from the now iconic image here, despite the fact that the wire mother provided food, the monkeys spent all of their time attached to the warm cloth of their new mom. Even when it was time to eat, many monkeys refused to leave the comforting touch of the terrycloth.
Furthermore, whenever a frightening stimulus was introduced into the room, the young monkeys would immediately cling to their cloth mother. If separated from both mothers for a few days, the first action of a rhesus monkey would undoubtedly be to return to the cloth surrogate. But it wasn’t simply that these monkeys preferred the cloth mother. Those fed from the cloth mother also proved to have a healthier physical development. Harlow speculated that not receiving food from the cloth mother was incredibly stressful to these newborn monkeys and was taking a toll on their health.
With these results in mind, it’s easy to see why Cascada gets such a rush when she is touched. All mammals, but perhaps human beings above all, seem to thrive on the consistent comfort of touch. More recent studies have shown that touch activates an area of our brain (the oribtofrontal cortex) usually associated with reward. Other research has shown that even a quick neck rub increases levels of the neurotransmitter serotonin (a similar effect occurs upon taking Prozac). People who are physically touched are even more likely to cooperate in the Prisoner’s Dilemma task. As psychologist Dacher Keltner puts it, “touch is the original contact high.”
Thanks to some morally dubious work, we now have a much richer understanding of the music of German electronica one hit wonders. While Cascada may only think that the touch from her romantic partner can give her such a great feeling, it may be the case that nearly all touch (aside from physical violence, of course) makes us feel like we can fly. It seems as if we get by with a little touch from our friends.
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