When my father was a soldier in World War II, there was one stretch there when he didn't speak with my Mother for over two years, such was the state of global communications. But today, families call the cell phones of soldiers serving in Iraq all the time, and they're doing more than that: They're emailing and blogging and texting and sending photo's and video's and music and anything else you can think of. Even those who are not so digitally savvy are not left out: Volunteers raise money to donate calling cards to faceless, nameless soldiers they will never meet, knowing that voice contact alone provides so much at both ends of the conversation.

The truth is that instant communications are so good, it has to be managed. The military has installed "kill switches" on Internet servers, particularly when an outfit has suffered casualties. As was the practice in World War II, families are notified in person when a soldier is lost, and care must be taken to speak with these families before the news reaches them in any other way. Today, an email can travel round the world in a second and a half, yet the last mile of this horrible duty remains eerily the same.

Of course, the problem isn't just the technology. Military units and soldier's families are more than distinct sets of individuals, communicating one-on-one. They know and contact each other, as well. When communications are down, this sends out a message out all by itself, the quintessential example that lack of information is also information. "We can't get through" rampages through military families essentially instantaneously, raising anxieties - real and imagined.

And in the field, there can be information overload, as well. The much-delayed, hand-written and well-censored letter of yesteryear stands in direct contrast to asking Dad (who's in Iraq) to decide who should take the next turn on the computer, or inviting Mom (who's in Afghanistan) to watch the daily progress of a child she heart-wrenchingly left behind.

And then there's mass media. News networks air footage, meaningless to most viewers, but telling to those who recognize insignia, likely function and proximate location. The limits of being human are wearing: What did you think you just flash by on television? What was just said on the radio?

As always, technology is a two-edged sword.

On a social experiment level, this is an interesting one. Thousands of individuals were picked up and moved en masse to another physical location, away from their families. For most, it meant a step-up in personal technology - whether new or simply used in new and creative ways. This group is learning like no other before, just what - beyond words - we can communicate only when we are face to face.

Neuroscience tells us much about our limbic systems, rooted deeply in our brains. Nurtured in childhood, we are able to form loving relationships as adults; traumatized by war, accident or abuse, we can become isolated beings, sometimes incapable of even tolerating another's presence.

When these same soldiers come home again and settle back into their lives, how then will their use of technology change? Will the content of their messages dilute, or go on to retain some sort of encoded emotions? Words, tone of voice, silences, even the second, third, fourth re-playing of an email both evokes and flattens emotional responses beyond our logical selves.

With all our vast technology, yes - there is so much to be learned about the nature of being human. And we are just about to learn it.

I'm Moira Gunn. This is Five Minutes.

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