Glossolalia, or simply ’speaking in tongues’ is a phenomenon interested me for some time now. It does, of course, refer to the phenomenon of supposedly speaking some unknown language, especially during religious worship. Explanations as to why people suddenly burst into glossolalia range from divine intervention (a popular one among Pentecostal Christians) to blunt mental illness.

Comparative studies seem to indicate that glossolalia somewhat resembles ordinary language, in so far as it demonstrates some degree of phonological structure, rhythm and accent, yet studies in neuroscience claim that it shows brain activity which differs from everyday speech when it is being uttered.

Finding a video which sufficiently demonstrated the tara ba rumeso kare mapoti shalafa ‘ sound but which doesn’t spill over into religious instruction proved difficult. This is the best I could come up with:

The ‘meaning’ of these utterances is an interesting topic in its own right. Glossolalists believe that ‘tongues’, or whatever you want to call it, actually constitutes a real language, one with its own lexicon and grammar. Yet if asked to repeat what they say or translate it into their native language, most are unable (or are unwilling) to do so. The ability to speak in tongues is, according to them, a divine gift from their deity.

The consensus from the viewpoint of linguistics seems to be that is that glossolalia does not constitute a truly meaningful language. Rather, the seemingly random speech sounds serve as a sort of tool to express deep belief in and attachment to a higher being. Nonetheless, speaking this pseudo-language is generally a deeply significant and emotional experience for the person involved.

Somewhere in the middle there are believers who do think that the descriptions of ‘tongues’ in the new testament (notably in Acts, apparently), refer to the God-given language which modern-day worshippers describe. They do not, however, believe that the utterances of modern-day worshippers, such as those in the following video, relate to this language, dismissing them on-the-spot and meaningless.

I definitely fall into the ‘pseudo-language’ category, but I find the whole thing fascinating nonetheless. I am still amazed at the effect religious belief has on people’s minds, and sit here wondering whether the glossolalists consciously make themselves behave this way, or whether it’s a sort of out-of-body experience.

In the spirit of objectivity, I follow on from yesterday’s Jesus Camp entry with a different but equally questionable children’s summer retreat: Camp Quest, which I found (as usual) on one of my many daily visits to BBC News. It is, according to the US equivalent’s website, supposed to

[…] provide children of freethinking parents a residential summer camp dedicated to improving the human condition through rational inquiry, critical and creative thinking, scientific method, self-respect, ethics, competency, democracy, free speech, and the separation of religion and government […].

The camp has naturally drawn controversy, instantly labelled an ‘Atheist Camp’ or a ‘Dawkins Camp’ (While I’m sure Richard Dawkins is pleased to see the camp setting up in the UK, he does not, in fact, have any personal involvement with it). In response to the media frenzy, the organizers offer this page of refutation.

While arguably less sinister than the Kids on Fire School of Ministry, is it any less fundamentalist?

For the longest time, the ubiquitous tube map resembled a road map. Everything was to geographical scale, and landmarks and street names were printed alongside station names:

This was fine in the early days, but as the network grew and became more and more complex, this style, as you can probably imagine, became quite confusing. It was this that sparked a revolutionary idea in the head of one Harry Beck, an electrical engineer working with the London Underground Signals Office. Well used to the schematic drawings of signal diagrams, he re-drew the map in his spare time in 1933, sacrificing geographical accuracy to create the simple, succinct layout with which we’re familiar today.

His design was met with skepticism, but the Tube’s publicity office relented and placated him with a small print run of pamphlets entitled ‘A New Design for an Old Map’:

To the surprise of his superiors, Beck’s map became a runaway success, and was imitated all over the world. Even though he left his job in 1940 to work with the London School of Printing and Graphical Arts, he continued to update the map until 1960, when he was suddenly let go by London Transport, his role filled by the publicity officer.

Beck continued to submit designs long afterwards, all of which were rejected without comment. He died in 1974, yet to this day his work inspires the Tube’s graphic designers:

This barely scratches the surface of this pop-culture gem’s fascinating history. A man named Clive Billson maintains this website where you can find out more about it.

A new site kicks off with an old video. In 1969, the Post Office Research Station published this 8-minute film, showcasing its bizarre, amusing, yet often surprisingly accurate predictions about what electronic communications would be like in the 1990s. Most troubling is the ultraviolet photocopying mechanism built into the telephone terminal…