Consider the Termite

On Winston Churchill's recent visit to Manhattan he made a foray into politico-entomology. Said he: "Our Communist friends should study . . . the life and the soul of the white ant. That will show them not only a great deal about their past but will give them a fair indication of their future."

Apparently Churchill meant to hold up termites (white ants) as horrible examples of socialism. A termite colony has an amazing unity, which science has not explained. Individually, its members are weak and stupid. Collectively the colony is strong, and in a sense intelligent.

The consensus of entomologists is that termite queens are egg-laying machines (as many as 4,000 eggs a day). In some species, the queens' abdomens grow gigantic, like fat, helpless grubs nearly four inches long. Around the queen, worker courtiers gather, stroking her tight-stretched body wall, feeding her helpless mouth, carrying off her eggs. The king's only duty is keeping his consort fecundated.

Quest for Food. The colony builds long tunnels to sources of food. If a tunnel is broken, an order of unknown origin brings workers with repair materials. In dry districts the colony sinks deep wells to maintain the humidity it requires. Many termites' intestines swarm with microscopic organisms which help them digest the wood which is their standard food. Without these symbiotic helpers, these termites die.

Some termite species cultivate fungi, feeding their young upon them. If enemies attack the colony, soldier termites rush to repel them. In relation to the colony, individual termites are utterly selfless. They never loaf, never sleep. They are ceaselessly busy in community service. Except for the king & queen, they never fall in love. There is no individualism in a termite colony.

Most termites are fanatically secretive, demanding absolute darkness. With passionate insistence, the colony avoids contact with the outside world, even with other termites. Around its boundaries are frontier guards, specialized soldiers with enormous jaws, or with syringe-like heads which squirt out corrosive liquids. So attached are termites to secrecy that a structure invaded by them seldom collapses of its own weight. They are careful to leave enough wood to support it, lest its crash expose them.

In their pitch-black, hidden tunnels, termites have survived from extreme antiquity. But they have paid a price. None of the colony's members--the blind, scurrying workers, the distorted soldiers, the priapic king and swollen queen--are more than dull automata, the helpless slaves of a strong, though invisible and despotic state.

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