17/12/2025
For starters, he has little patience for the standard (and impoverished, if you ask him) assumptions about feelings, such as the idea that they come in six basic universal flavors—happiness, sadness, fear, anger, surprise, and disgust. In the 1960s and ’70s, the psychologist Paul Ekman identified these six emotions, which he thought were hardwired into every human. This perception is still fairly embedded in our culture. Just consider the success of Pixar’s Inside Out, Boddice suggests, which anthropomorphized some of these distinct sentiments as cartoon characters (anger, for example, is squat and red, and has a head that ignites like a furnace) pulling levers behind a console inside our minds. Much of the social-skills curricula for elementary-school children are built around the same idea: choose from a list of prepackaged emoji ranging from smiley to frowny. There is nothing unusual about a desire to distill and name emotions in this way. For one thing, it might be the source of empathy. Having a shared “happy” that refers to what you are feeling and what I am feeling seems essential to relationships, and probably also to building any kind of human society.
But as a historian trying to comprehend feelings, Boddice can’t stand those cute Inside Out characters. Because not only do we imagine other people to have the exact same set of emotions that we have, but we project this thought backwards through time. Love for us can’t be that different from what it meant to Heloise and Abelard writing letters to each other in the 12th century. The laborers who hauled stones to build the pyramids in Giza felt anger that is our anger. We perform this projection on any number of human experiences: losing a child, falling ill, being bored at work. We assume that emotions in the past are accessible because we assume that at their core, people in the past were just like us, with slight tweaks for their choice of hats and standards of personal hygiene.
Boddice starts with the opposite premise, that we are not the same—that the experience of being human in another era, with all of its component feelings and perceptions, even including something as elemental as pain, is so foreign to us as to live inside a kind of sealed vault. “There is nothing about my humanness that affords me insight into humanity,” Boddice has said. Rather than being a constant—extending across space and time—human nature for Boddice is a variable and unstable category, one with infinite possible shades.
The historians who want to know how our ancestors experienced love, anger, fear, and sorrow