Humans are the complaining animal. Why?
All creatures refuse, avoid, express distress. Dog-pal Henry has been known to sniff at his kibble, the ingrate. But no other creature whines, implying or asserting they deserve better.
Complaints are not an enhancement, like bright plumage or a pretty song, evolution has devised to make us more attractive. I’ve never heard any suitor sigh, “She complains so beautifully!” Insistent dissatisfaction is hideous per se, souring the atmosphere like farts. More contagious than chicken pox, grievances swiftly multiply till everybody’s caterwauling.
Caterwauling reminds me how many synonyms for complaining we’ve contrived: grumble, gripe, groan, carp, squawk, bellyache, grouse, kvetch, fuss, and that’s just in English. Try connecting these verbs to any other creature. The mosquito squawked? Now you mention it, do cats caterwaul?
Language helps explain this human deformation. Language, our species’ signal invention, differentiates. Any word conjures countless others it isn’t: red isn’t blue, yellow, green, is isn’t was, wise isn’t stupid. Differentiation implies alternative possibilities, which may be preferable. The contrast between the actual and the possible may provoke regret, which finds its voice in complaining. That half full glass is half empty, dammit, etc.
It is much easier to see what we haven’t than what we have. Our lives would be so much better if – fill in the blank. Appreciation, acceptance, gratitude are achievements, which take time. Any child wholly satisfied with their circumstances would strike us as weird, worrisome. Dissatisfaction is the essence of childhood.
I was a mighty complainer growing up. I pretended not to be, of course – real men didn’t cry – but about the superior scale, scope, talent, and opportunities of my contemporaries I was fit to be tied. Why wasn’t I bigger, smarter, hairier, sexier, etc.? Like a little Charles Atlas, dissed on the beach, I’d avenge my injured pride! It is no accident that so many bullies are small in stature (the so-called “Napoleon complex”).
With luck, we outgrow our grievances. Observation is our anodyne. Religions help reconcile us to our lot. No one, we may notice, deserves more or less – the notion is absurd. We are all dust-specks in the eye of time. All glory is gimcrack, however agreeable. Can mud-in-waiting boast? As Shakespeare put it (who put everything better, damn him),
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedImperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay,Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
Maturity trains itself not to complain. What we possess is an abundance, what we don’t is an infinitude, so shut your trap! Alas, many of my countrymen fail to recognize the obvious. They carry on about all they lack, poor them. They permit grievance to become their occupation, polluting the atmosphere for all, stirring discontent. We elected one such our supreme leader. I hear he wants to change our national slogan from “E pluribus unum,” which sounds communist, to “In pout we trust.”
It took me most of my life to be glad where I was. I have no complaints. I regret much, my paucity of time especially, but even that bestows a benefit. Would the sun be glorious if it never set?
Complaints make adults ugly: so why don’t we forswear or at least stifle them? Would we flaunt a wart on our nose?
Humans long to resemble each other. If all my neighbors sport a wart, I want one too. Mooing with the herd, few think for themselves. If whining’s what’s doing, let me whine with the best of them.
As pondering gives one more to ponder, so complaints breed complaints. Our nation has complained itself into a fearsome funk. Please register my complaint.