Does Your Butt Speak?
Perhaps, as humans, we might someday evolve to communicate through our buttocks. Think about it — what if farts, in their distinct sounds and scents, are not mere biological expulsions but rather the embryonic stages of a long-forgotten or yet-to-be-discovered form of communication? What if the intricacies of these sounds and smells — currently dismissed as crude — are the earliest murmurs of a language waiting to be fully realized?
Evolution, after all, has always been a response to necessity. Perhaps this transformation would only occur when we are thrust into a context that demands it — like interplanetary migration. Mars, or some other celestial home, might hold conditions that amplify the latent potential of this “secondary voice.” On a new planet, where survival would require innovative adaptations, perhaps the limits of oral communication would push us toward unlocking this untapped reservoir of expression.
Let us entertain the thought further. Farts, as they exist now, already carry individuality. Their sounds are distinct, their odors unmistakably personal. What if, with time and necessity, these traits become more refined, eventually evolving into a complex system of vocalizations? Beyond sound, perhaps the chemical compounds in these emissions could act as carriers of meaning, much like pheromones in the animal kingdom. It is possible that this would lead to a world where a subtle change in scent conveys urgency, affection, or even wisdom. This would also mean a sharp increase in our ability to perceive smell and the rapid attribution of each scent to its source, allowing for precise and immediate communication.
This evolution could also bring a new role for our gut, often referred to as our “second brain.” This organ, housing millions of neurons and playing a central role in our emotional and physiological well-being, could take on an even greater responsibility: speech. If the gut were to become the brain controlling this alternate form of communication, it would mean we could speak from two distinct sources of consciousness. Our primary brain, the seat of reason and logic, would guide traditional speech, while the second brain, intuitive and primal, would govern this new, unfiltered voice, capable of expressing raw, unmediated truths.
The implications would be profound. With two expressive means of communication, we would no longer be confined to a single narrative. We might even find that our “gut speech” reveals what our mouths cannot — or dare not — say. The interplay between these two systems could bring about a new level of honesty, as the second brain bypasses the calculated filters of the first.
Of course, this duality might also create tension. What happens when the words from our mouths contradict the expressions from our guts? Would society develop ways to prioritize or decode these competing streams of communication? Could entire conflicts arise from misunderstandings between the two?
Perhaps, perhaps not.
And yet, there is something undeniably sardonic about this possibility. To become beings with two independent voices, two expressive centers of thought, would mark an evolution not just of biology but of consciousness itself. It would blur the boundaries between what is considered base and what is seen as profound, forcing us to rethink the limitations we have placed on ourselves as humans.
It might even challenge the very notion of identity. If the gut gains the ability to express itself, would it, in time, develop its own personality? Would we, as individuals, come to think of ourselves not as singular beings, but as dual entities — a harmony (or discord) of two distinct selves? Would society grant leniency in cases where the butt speaks through farts and the mouth says otherwise? What happens when an argument ensues between the two while the body remains a passive observer, static and helpless?
What force would control both sides in such an altercation? Perhaps, in some dystopian twist, the punishment for a crime might involve triggering an individual into an endless argument between their mouth and their gut. Left to bicker indefinitely, they might find no means to end the altercation, serving as both punishment and (humorous) spectacle.
Perhaps this, then, is the future that awaits us — and perhaps it is the very reason why we have yet to achieve interplanetary migration. In imagining this admittedly weird future, we confront an almost absurd reality: what we dismiss today as a mere biological function could one day shape the course of human evolution. Perhaps, just perhaps, the echoes of this possibility reside within us already, waiting for the right moment to emerge, to express, to evolve.
So don’t be shocked one day, while in your glorious state of giving back to Mother Earth — sitting on your haunches and perhaps reflecting on the most random of events — that you hear your fart whisper to you. It’s entirely possible that the next phase of human evolution may have just begun with you!
