“Essential reading to understand the
context of our present-day frantic lives,
and a guide toward the safety upon which
we all depend.”
-Gabor Maté, MD, CM,
author of The Myth of Normal

O U R
P O L Y VA G A L
W O R L D
HOW SAFETY AND TRAUMA CHANGE US
STEPHEN W. PORGES AND SETH PORGES

But for the vast majority of human history, our species existed
in a dangerous world that bore little resemblance to the one
we live in today. This was a world without supermarkets, air-
conditioning, or emergency services. This was a world of intense
competition and danger. Of scarce resources, and abundant
predators. To survive it, we needed to communicate, cooperate,
and collaborate.

These social behaviors became so important to our survival
that our bodies evolved a number of built-in mechanisms designed
to compel us to engage in them. The impetus for this is obvious:
Those who cooperated with others were more likely to survive than
those who lived and operated in isolation.

We often assume that “survival of the fittest” applies to a sense of
dominance and aggressiveness. But going back to the early 1960s,
Theodosius Dobzhansky, a prominent Ukrainian-American genet-
icist and evolutionary biologist, proposed a twist on this assump-
tion. As he put it: “The fittest may also be the gentlest, because
survival often requires mutual help and cooperation.”!

To this end, we evolved neurophysiological mechanisms for
downshifting away from states of aggression and defense, and into
ones of cooperation and sociability. This was a massive evolution-
ary shift that enabled us to feel safe around others. This adaptation
may be at the core of human society and even the human domes-
tication of other mammals such as cows, goats, dogs, and horses.
It is through this evolutionary imperative that humans evolved
into social creatures, with a built-in system of biological rewards
and punishments that, to this day, compel us to communicate and
socialize with other people.

Fulfill this ancient need for communication and cooperation,
and our bodies reward us with health and happiness by way of a
downshifted nervous system that allows us to grow and heal, as
well as a satisfying chemical cocktail.

Socializing is fun, parties are fun, and numerous studies have
shown that people with strong social-support networks and healthy
relationships tend to be happier, healthier, and longer-lived than
those without.

But ignore this ancient compulsion, and our bodies punish us with illness, depression, and feelings of loneliness. Long-term
social isolation is tantamount to torture. Just ask any prisoner who
has been sent into solitary confinement (see Chapter 10) — or recall
how all of us felt after spending weeks, months, or even years iso-
lated during the pandemic (see Chapter 7).

Think of it as our bodies having a carrot-and-stick approach to
encouraging us to work together and be social.

The carrot: Spend time safely around others, and you’ll feel
good and be healthier.

The stick: Stay isolated, and end up like a Sims character. Sad
and lonely and physically unwell.

But how do our bodies know that we are fulfilling our quota for
social interaction and cooperation- and thus are deserving of the
carrot? Basically, how does our body know that our Sims “Need”
bar for social interaction is being kept full?

Throughout the vast majority of human evolution, social inter-
action existed in one form and one form only. Before the existence
of the internet, before phones, and before even the written letter,
there was only one way for humans to communicate-and, by
extension, cooperate-with one another: face-to-face interaction.
And so it is through face-to-face interaction, and only face-to-
face interaction, that our bodies can determine whether or not we
have fulfilled this quota. When we speak to another person face-to-
face, our nervous systems engage an ancient, complex, and mostly
subconscious dance of co-regulation that ultimately results in a
rewarding rush of neurotransmitters and a feeling of satisfaction—
not to mention better physical and mental health.

The face and voice became the keys, and the triggers, for tell-
ing our bodies and the bodies of others that we have fulfilled our
phylogenetic contract to interact with one another in a social and
safe way.

Remember those 12 cranial nerves that sprout from our brain-
stem, providing direct links to key parts of our bodies? Lest any-
body doubt the importance of the face to the nervous system, it
should be noted that a large percentage of these crucial nerves (in
particular: the four that appear in the ventral vagal complex and
interact with the origin point of the ventral vagus) are directly responsible for regulating the muscles involved in facial expres-
sions, head gestures, and vocal intonations that are involved in
this process. In other words: A huge chunk of our nervous system is dedicated to the specific systems that allow us to be social with others in a face-to-face setting.

Now let’s fast-forward to the modern world.

Today, most of us have easy access to the resources that are
necessary for basic and superficial survival. Thanks to supermar-
kets and food-delivery services, it is possible-and indeed quite
easy—to procure a virtually unlimited supply of food without actu-
ally having to cooperate with anybody else. Instead of teaming up
to hunt, gather, or scavenge for food, a few taps of an app can result
in a nutrient-rich meal (perhaps too nutrient rich at times) deliv-
ered directly to our door.

Even for tasks that still require cooperation, modern modes
of communication make it easy for us to complete them without
ever seeing another person’s face. Thanks to the telephone and the
internet, it is now possible-and often easier-to communicate
with other people in such a way that their face is never seen. For
many people, everything needed to “earn a living,” so to speak, can
be done solitarily through a computer.

When it comes to merely surviving, face-to-face interaction can
now be considered optional for many of us. But declining this option
comes at a steep price. When we fail to trigger our bodies’ internal
face-detection mechanism through the act of co-regulation, our
nervous systems have no way of knowing that we have fulfilled our
ancient need for communication and cooperation, and thus deny
us the satisfaction and very real rush of happiness-inducing and
health-supporting chemicals that reward us for doing so.
And don’t miss the “co” in co-regulation. It can feel off-putting
when a friendly attempt to engage another person is not accepted.
As an academic who has spent his career walking the halls of
universities and professional conferences, I (Stephen) have fre-
quently witnessed or experienced this firsthand. I’ve seen many
a graduate student approach a distinguished senior faculty member with the intent to engage them in conversation-only to find
the entreaty met with a cold shoulder as the faculty member
walks by without acknowledgment. Such rejection might lead
the student to develop a self-critical narrative, perhaps focused
on their own perceived inadequacies or a belief that they are not
worthy of the professor’s interest or attention. Of course, the
truth might be a lot more innocent. The professor could have
been running late for an appointment, or perhaps didn’t hear the
hello in the first place. They may also simply be somebody with
a low facial affect, which the student could have interpreted as
being actively standoffish.

As humans, we evolved to anticipate reciprocal social interac-
tions from others. When our nervous system believes we are about
to be social, it prepares our body by downregulating our defenses
and activating the features of the Social Engagement System.
When the neural expectancy of friendly socialization is violated,
there might bé an immediate and massive shift in our nervous sys-
tem toward a state of defense, which is often accompanied by a
sense of emotional hurt.

I coined the term “biological rudeness” to explain our bodily
reaction when we anticipate a reciprocal social engagement that
does not occur. This response can be thought of as a cascade,
where a lack of perceived reciprocity to a spontaneous social
interaction triggers can abruptly shift an autonomic state toward
one of defense. This leads to an emotional response of being
offended, which may result in an aggressive reaction. We see this
when m i n o r – a n d perhaps unintentional-social slights spiral
into actual violence. The likelihood of such a negative response
is greatly increased with individuals who might be predisposed
to defensive states. This could be a natural predisposition, or the
result of living around violence or in a state of fear.

Humans need contact with other humans, just as we need food and
water. This need is an ancient one that is built into our bodies like a hole in a jigsaw puzzle. Just like a missing puzzle piece, this need
can be filled with subpar substitutions that bear a striking, super-
ficial resemblance to the real thing. And in a modern world over-
flowing with convenience and communication technology, there is
no shortage of substitutions.

As an example, video games (in particular, online multiplayer
games) do an incredible job of tapping into our basic need for
cooperation and human contact. These games typically require
players to team up to solve puzzles and complete missions-many
of which benefit from an enormous amount of planning and fore-
sight. The games also act as massive chat rooms: virtual forums
where pixelated avatars act as proxies for people, allowing them
to meet and greet one another, and develop friendships and some-
times even romantic relationships. In other words, these games are
almost tailor-made to fill our need for human contact.

But for all their whiz-bang graphics and programming, these
games are but crude simulations. Simulations that tease our ner-
vous systems and flirt with our need for human cooperation and
interaction. Through this, they do an incredible job of priming our
social nervous system into believing it is about to receive the needed
dose of human interaction and cooperation. Puzzles are being
solved cooperatively, words and emotions are being exchanged,
conversations are being had.

But there is no face-to-face interaction. And because there
is no face-to-face interaction, the body, does not register the
co-regulation, or provide the sense of ultimate satisfaction or
biochemical reward.*

This is perhaps why the internet and video games can be so
addictive: They superficially trigger the social nervous system,
without ever truly giving us the specific components of social inter-
action that our nervous systems are searching for.

• Video-conferencing apps such as Zoom are a whole other story, and may pro-vide something slightly closer to the real thing. But the unconscious dance of co-regulation involves much more than visually seeing a face, and these interactions are still nowhere near as satisfying for our nervous system as being face-to-face with a physical human.

This is also why people who are staring at screens tend to exhibit
what some people jokingly call “zombie face.” This is when—
despite appearing to have all of their attention focused on the
screen— somebody still displays a flat and unemotive face. They
may be communicating with another person, but the expressive
muscles and movements of the Social Engagement System that
come into play for face-to-face interaction are effectively shut off.
Without the subtle facial and vocal cues that enable the face
and voice keys, the nervous system is never able to give us suf-
ficient credit for the interaction. The quota is not met, and the
feeling of happiness and autonomic shift into Green that comes
from communicating and cooperating with another person is not
fully realized.

Before moving on, we want to quickly say that the authors of this
book like video games and have smartphones. This is not intended
to be some sort of antigaming or antitechnology screed. Games
can be a fun and immersive hobby and are a profoundly compel-
ling form of entertainment, storytelling, art, and learning. They
also offer portals to social interaction for people who might be
physically isolated, whether due to a disability or to simply being
locked in during a pandemic. They help some people relax and
regulate, and help others stay connected with friends.
But no form of digital technology is a true substitute for face-
to-face interaction. And as we look to a future full of video calls
and virtual reality and metaverses and other social simulacra, it’s
important to remember and cater to our ancient baked-in need
to be near one another, and to find ways to spend time with one
another in person.

Your nervous system—and health—will thank you.

(Contributed by John Atwater, H.W.)