Animal Emotions

Animal love: Hot-blooded elephants, guppy love, and love dogs

Marc Bekoff — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 20:43:53 +0000

Recently I wrote about grief in animals showing that many animals anguish over their losses and that we're not the only animals who bereave, display deep sadness, or who engage in rituals after losing close friends or loved ones. Now let's consider love, a troubling and mysterious emotion. People don't hesitate to say they love another human or nonhuman animal and then harm them. I'm glad they don't love me.

Animals feel a wide range of emotions, including each of Charles Darwin's six universal emotions: anger, happiness, sadness, disgust, fear, and surprise. It's important to remember that there differences among species in how they express their emotions (as well as perhaps in what they feel), and that there are also differences among individuals of the same species. Not all dogs or chimpanzees experience and express joy, grief, or jealousy in the same way. Research has shown that, as with humans, each individual has his or her own "personality." Animals can be bold, shy, playful, aggressive, sociable, curious, emotionally stable, or agreeable; they can be extroverted, introverted, dominant, or submissive. Individual and species differences make the study of animal emotions more difficult and challenging, but they also more exciting. As the saying goes, it takes all kinds of people to make the world go 'round, and the same is true about the different "personalities" within the social world of animals.

It's sometimes easier to see and understand emotions in animals than in humans because animals don't filter their emotions. What they feel is clearly written on their faces, publicized by tails, ears, and odors, and displayed by their actions. Animal emotions are raw and out there for all to sense — to see, hear, smell, and feel. Anyone can tell. For some, like the people who deliver packages to my home, it's a necessity.

Humans have struggled to understand and define love since the dawn of consciousness, so what possible hope is there that we can understand and define love in animals? And yet, though we don't truly understand love, we do not deny its existence, nor do we deny its power. We experience or witness love everyday, in a hundred different forms; indeed, grief is but the price of love. Since animals grieve, surely they must feel love too.

Love is perhaps the most complex of all emotions, given its bewildering variety of forms and shadings. On this landscape, where science and poetry meet, we find love that is romantic, parental, filial, and erotic, and we see love express itself as friendship, loyalty, affection, tenderness, devotion, commitment, and compassion.

If I were to chance a definition, one that we could use to examine animal behavior in search of love, I'd say that love means preferring the close company of another individual, seeking them out, and if necessary protecting and caring for them. It means forming and maintaining strong and close reciprocal social bonds and communicating your feelings with your loved ones. Not exactly poetry, but it's a start.

There's considerable evidence that many animals are capable of feelings that run the gamut of the varieties of love, and the latest science argues for the existence of love in many different species. The brain machinery of love — the microanatomy and neurochemistry that allow us to feel love — is similar or identical to that of numerous other animals. Once again, science is catching up with what our intuitions already tell us, and in the following sections, we will look at love that is romantic (that involves selecting and keeping a mate), maternal (that involves parent-child bonding), and filial (that involves love between siblings or friends).

Helen Fisher, author of Why We Love, put forth what she calls a "immodest proposal" concerning the evolution of love: "All these data lead me to believe that animals big and little are biologically driven to prefer, pursue, and possess specific mating partners; there is chemistry to animal attraction. And this chemistry must be the precursor to human love."

The most devoted mates are not necessarily our closest kin, the great apes, or other mammals. More than 90 percent of bird species are monogamous, and many mate for life. Fewer mammals are monogamous, and the nonhuman primates appear comparatively callous when it comes to commitment. Chimpanzee males, for example, don't spend much time courting, mating, or remaining with a female whose young they've fathered. When males aren't needed to provide protection or food for their mates or their offspring, they frequently try to mate with as many females as possible. Does that sound like any human males you know?

Animals communicate in a wide variety of ways including scent. Scientists may not be very adept at using their nose, but not so other animals. Scent can be a very powerful communicator, as is made clear in the following vivid description of a male elephant experiencing what is called "musth":

He is a hot-blooded, 30-year-old male in peak physical condition. He has mucus oozing from his cheeks and green urine streaming down his legs. His penis has a green sheen to it and he gives off a smell that can be picked up half a mile away. He wafts his ears back and forth and makes a low rumble. He looks confident: after all, many females find him irresistible. Sounds familiar? Hopefully not. He is a male elephant in musth — something like a state of rut. Sexually mature bull elephants go through musth for a one to two-month period every year. They don't exactly hide it, excreting a cocktail of chemicals from a bulbous gland on their cheeks that can swell to the size of a basketball, passing more than 300 litres of urine a day (equivalent to 24 buckets), and — not surprisingly — smelling like a herd of goats. What's more, during this dramatic advertisement of his sexuality the male appears to undergo something of a personality change; indeed, the word musth is derived from a Persian word meaning drunk. They become very aggressive and obsessed with sex, probably as a result of their high testosterone levels, which can increase by up to 60 times.

A male elephant in musth isn't an animal with whom you'd want to cross paths. What's interesting here is not only are there rapid and obvious personality changes during musth, but also that a male in musth can communicate his intentions clearly and openly to females in whom he's interested and to other males. "Musth is the elephant version of expensive aftershave and a flash car. It is thought to inform males and females alike of an elephant's age, status and reproductive health, and also increases a male's chances of reproductive success."l

The chemical that does it all is called frontalin, which is secreted by sweat glands in the elephant's cheeks and also shows up in their breath and urine. A male proclaims his intentions and prowess, females assess his reproductive fitness, and other males judge how strong he is before picking a fight. The precision of this signaling seems to be unique among mammals, but it's likely that non-mammals also use odors to show their intentions.

There's also compelling evidence that fish also make choices about mating. They're not automatons. University of Louisville biologist Lee Dugatkin has identified what he calls "guppy love." Dugatkin discovered that males change their behavior and become bolder in response to a predator when there is a female around, because females find bold males more attractive. Even among fish, it seems like males will risk it all for love.

In some instances animals are seen acting with incredible devotion and care even though there's no biological advantage to be had. Several years ago, a story appeared about two Jack Russell terriers who were found, filthy and terrified, cowering on the main street of a small town. The dogs were friends, not mates. One was bleeding from both eyes; the other was standing guard, barking and snapping at anyone who approached. They were taken to a veterinarian, who determined that the one terrier had been stabbed: both eyes had to be removed and the lids sewn up. Two days after the operation, Ben, as he had been named, was reunited with Bill in the local animal shelter. From that moment on, Bill acted as Ben's guide dog; with Ben holding onto the scruff of his neck, Bill walked him around the yard until he knew the lay of the land. After a TV crew captured this amazing performance, the two dogs found a marvelous home with an elderly couple who had an old female Jack Russell. With Bill's nudges and tugs, Ben quickly learned to negotiate the little house and garden. They sleep curled up together and behave "rather like a married couple."

Incredibly, this is not the only story of a sighted animal helping a blind animal: consider the tale of Annie, a blind mule, and her constant companion and guide Charlie, a steer. Both are permanent residents of Colorado's Black Forest Animal Sanctuary (BFAS), a nonprofit rescue organization. Annie was nursing a broken shoulder and bound for the slaughterhouse when BFAS volunteers bought her in. She lived at the ranch for over a year before she met Charlie. Initially, Charlie and Annie were kept in separate pastures, but during one cold spell all the livestock was herded into a single pen for warmth. Charlie hit it off with Annie. He started nuzzling up to her and playing with her. Today, the two are inseparable. Annie used to have a hard time finding the water tank, but Charlie unfailingly leads her to it. She follows him around the pasture, avoiding bumping into the fence, and as with Bill and Ben, they sleep cuddled up together.

There are numerous stories of animals of different species who form close social bonds that resemble what we call love. A one-year old hippopotamus, named Owen by his caretakers, formed a close bond with a century-old male tortoise named Mzee (Swahili for old man) after floods in Kenya (due to a tsunami in 2004) left Owen dehydrated and alone. Owen was found by wildlife rangers near the Indian Ocean and brought to a wildlife sanctuary in Mombassa. Owen now sleeps and eats with his tortoise friend, and the two have remained inseparable, close buddies.

As we all know, dogs are "human's best friend." Their devotion to humans is undeniable. They can also be best friends to one another. I'd like to end this section on love by sharing the story of two beautiful malamutes, Tika, and her longtime mate, Kobuk, who had raised eight litters of puppies together and now were enjoying their retirement years in the home of my friend Anne, who shared their story with me. Kobuk was charming, energetic, and always demanded attention. He'd always let you know when he wanted his belly rubbed or his ears scratched. He also was quite vocal and howled his way into everyone's heart. Tika, Kobuk's mate, was quieter and pretty low-key. If anyone tried to rub Tika's ears or belly, Kobuk shoved his way in. Tika knew not to eat her food unless it was far away from Kobuk. If Tika happened to get in Kobuk's way when he headed to the door, she usually got knocked over as he charged past her.

Then one day a small lump appeared on Tika's leg. It was diagnosed as a malignant tumor. Overnight Kobuk's behavior changed. He became subdued and wouldn't leave Tika's side. Then, Tika had to have her leg amputated and had trouble getting around. Kobuk, clearly worried about her, stopped shoving her aside and stopped minding if she was allowed to get on the bed without him.

About two weeks after Tika's surgery, Kobuk woke Anne in the middle of the night the way he did when he really needed to go outside. Tika was in another room, and Kobuk ran over to her. Anne got Tika up and took both dogs outside, but the dogs just lay down on the grass. Tika was whining softly, and Anne saw that Tika's belly was huge and swollen. Anne realized that Tika was going into shock, so she rushed her to the emergency animal clinic in Boulder. The veterinarian operated on her and was able to save her life.

If Kobuk hadn't fetched Anne, Tika almost certainly would have died. Tika recovered, and as her health grew after the amputation and operation, Kobuk became the bossy dog he'd always been, even as Tika walked around on three legs. But Anne had witnessed their true relationship. Kobuk and Tika, a true old married couple, would always be there for each other, even if their personalities would never change. They were love dogs doing for each other what needed to be done.

We all have great stories of love and devotion in a wide variety of animals. We would be wise to follow our animal friends' example of commitment, devotion, and love. We shouldn't be so self-centered and arrogant to think we're the only species in which love has evolved, is openly expressed, vigorously sought, and sorely needed. (Many other examples of love can be found in The Smile of a Dolphin in which my colleagues share their own stories of animal love and other emotions based on years of research on a wide variety of species, The Emotional Lives of Animals (that contains these and other stories), The Animal Manifesto, and Pleasurable Kingdom.

Grief in animals: It's arrogant to think we're the only animals who mourn

Marc Bekoff — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 21:42:52 +0000

There is no doubt that many animals experience rich and deep emotions. It's not a matter of if emotions have evolved in animals but why they have evolved as they have. We must never forget that our emotions are the gifts of our ancestors, our animal kin. We have feelings and so do other animals.

Among the different emotions that animals display clearly and unambiguously is grief. Many animals display profound grief at the loss or absence of a close friend or loved one. Nobel laureate ethologist Konrad Lorenz writes: "A greylag goose that has lost its partner shows all the symptoms that [developmental psychologist] John Bowlby has described in young human children in his famous book Infant Grief . . . the eyes sink deep into their sockets, and the individual has an overall drooping experience, literally letting the head hang . . ." Sea lion mothers, watching their babies being eaten by killer whales, wail pitifully, anguishing their loss. Dolphins have been seen struggling to save a dead infant and mourn afterward. Stories about grief stricken companion animals abound; see also).

Wild animals also grieve. Among the best examples are grieving rituals of elephants in the wild observed by such renowned researchers as Iain Douglas-Hamilton, Cynthia Moss and Joyce Poole. Captive elephants also grieve; see also. To quote Joyce Poole: "As I watched Tonie´s vigil over her dead newborn, I got my first very strong feeling that elephants grieve. I will never forget the expression on her face, her eyes, her mouth, the way she carried her ears, her head, and her body. Every part of her spelled grief". Young elephants who saw their mothers being killed often wake up screaming.

Cynthia Moss describes the actions of the members of an elephant family above after a group member had been shot: "Teresia and Trista became frantic and knelt down and tried to lift her up. They worked their tusks under her back and under her head. At one point they succeeded in lifting her into a sitting position but her body flopped back down. Her family tried everything to rouse her, kicking and tusking her, and Tullulah even went off and collected a trunkful of grass and tried to stuff it in her mouth."

Iain Douglas-Hamilton and his colleagues have shown that elephants extend this compassion to nonrelatives, to those who aren't genetically related, and at least one anecdote shows them extending it to humans. A news report told of an elephant in northern Kenya that trampled a human mother and her child and then stopped to bury them before disappearing in the bush. Elephants don't show concern just for their own kin, or their own kind, but rather elephants show a general concern for the plight of others.

Nonhuman primates also grieve the loss of others. Gana, a captive gorilla, clearly grieved the loss of her infant and the image of her carrying her dead baby was shown around the world. Jane Goodall observed Flint, a young chimpanzee, withdraw from his group, stop eating, and die of a broken heart after the death of his mother, Flo. Here is Goodall's description from her book Through a Window:

"Never shall I forget watching as, three days after Flo's death, Flint climbed slowly into a tall tree near the stream. He walked along one of the branches, then stopped and stood motionless, staring down at an empty nest. After about two minutes he turned away and, with the movements of an old man, climbed down, walked a few steps, then lay, wide eyes staring ahead. The nest was one which he and Flo had shared a short while before Flo died. . . . in the presence of his big brother [Figan], [Flint] had seemed to shake off a little of his depression. But then he suddenly left the group and raced back to the place where Flo had died and there sank into ever deeper depression. . . . Flint became increasingly lethargic, refused food and, with his immune system thus weakened, fell sick. The last time I saw him alive, he was hollow-eyed, gaunt and utterly depressed, huddled in the vegetation close to where Flo had died. . . . the last short journey he made, pausing to rest every few feet, was to the very place where Flo's body had lain. There he stayed for several hours, sometimes staring and staring into the water. He struggled on a little further, then curled up— and never moved again."

Another story of grieving chimpanzees recently was reported in the Daily Mail.

Gorillas are known to hold wakes for dead friends, something that some zoos have formalized in a ceremony when one of their gorillas passes away. Donna Fernandes, now president of the Buffalo Zoo, tells the story of being at Boston's Franklin Park Zoo ten years ago during the wake for a female gorilla, Babs, who had died of cancer. She describes seeing the gorilla's longtime mate say good-bye: "He was howling and banging his chest,... and he picked up a piece of her favorite food — celery — and put it in her hand and tried to get her to wake up. I was weeping, it was so emotional." Later, the scene at Babs's December funeral was similarly moving. As reported by local news, gorilla family members "one by one ... filed into" the room where "Babs's body lay," approaching their "beloved leader" and "gently sniffing the body."

When Sylvia, a baboon, lost Sierra, her closest grooming partner and daughter to a lion, she responded in a way that would be considered very human-like: she looked to friends for support. Said Anne Engh, a researcher in he University of Pennsylvania's Department of Biology. "With Sierra gone, Sylvia experienced what could only really be described as depression, corresponding with an increase in her glucocorticoid levels."

Jim and Jamie Dutcher describe the grief and mourning in a wolf pack after the loss of the low-ranking omega female wolf, Motaki, to a mountain lion. The pack lost their spirit and their playfulness. They no longer howled as a group, but rather they "sang alone in a slow mournful cry." They were depressed — tails and heads held low and walking softly and slowly — when they came upon the place where Motaki was killed. They inspected the area and pinned their ears back and dropped their tails, a gesture that usually means submission. It took about six weeks for the pack to return to normal. The Dutchers also tell of a wolf pack in Canada in which one pack member died and the others wandered about in a figure eight as if searching for her. They also howled long and mournfully. Foxes also have been observed performing funeral rituals.

My friend Betsy Webb who lives in Homer, Alaska, told me a moving story about grief in llamas. She wrote:

"Llamas are gregarious by nature, extremely perceptive, and forge deep bonds with one another. In the pasture, our llamas often feed in the same area, sleep next to each other, and stay close together when they face off an unfamiliar animal or predator. On the trail, they become extremely agitated if they lose sight of each other when one stops to rest and falls behind. They vocalize quite a bit. My favorite is their delicate greeting call, which sounds like a miniature bagpipe exhaling. When my family moved from Colorado to Alaska, we brought our two Colorado llamas with us. As fate would have it, we inherited two Alaska llamas with our new house and grounds. Each twosome had spent their lives together. At first, the twosomes were a bit standoffish, but in time, they became fast friends and a foursome. Several years later, the oldest llama, Boone, died quite suddenly at twenty-seven years old. One day, he laid down on his side, too weak to get up. The next day, his life partner, Bridger, died in the same fashion, next to him. It was early spring and the ground was still frozen, so we hired a friend with a backhoe to prepare their grave just across the fence. We carefully hoisted Boone and Bridger over the fence and into the ground, then covered them. The other pair, Taffy and Pumpernickel, stood by and watched the entire process quietly. For the next two days, stoic Taffy stood across the fence from the grave and stared at the hole in the ground. She barely moved from the spot. Excitable Pumpernickel stayed in his little barn and wailed for two days. On the third day, they emerged from their grieving and resumed their normal activities. Did Bridger surrender himself to death following the loss of his lifelong buddy Boone? And Taffy and Pumpernickel, both very distinct personalities, grieved in their own personal ways. For me, the most moving memory of losing two llamas so close together was experiencing the caring and harmonious llama death and grieving process."

Magpies also grieve the loss of other magpies; see also. I recently received this story via email in response to the essays about my observations of magpie grief. "I have a farm in Bolton, UK and we were overrun with Magpies. The reaction from the magpies [to the corpse of another magpie] in the vicinity was akin to a scene from the film 'The Birds', as they surrounded the lifeless bird and tried to reawaken it with their beaks. When they reached the conclusion that it was indeed dead, there was an outpouring of loud cackling noises which reached quite a crescendo (there were around 20 of them); this was echoed by a similar sympathetic chorus from a nearby wood and within a minute, from all surrounding areas giving the impression that hundreds of magpies were being told of the death and simultaneously expressing their grief. It was quite unnerving and I remained within the safe confines of a barn until all was over."

Why do animals grieve and why do we see grief in different species of animals? It's been suggested that grief reactions may allow for the reshuffling of status relationships or the filling the reproductive vacancy left by the deceased, or for fostering continuity of the group. Some theorize that perhaps mourning strengthens social bonds among the survivors who band together to pay their last respects. This may enhance group cohesion at a time when it's likely to be weakened.

Grief itself is something of a mystery, for there doesn't seem to be any obvious adaptive value to it in an evolutionary sense. It does not appear to increase an individual's reproductive success. Whatever its value is, grief is the price of commitment, that wellspring of both happiness and sorrow.

Morality in Tooth and Claw

Marc Bekoff — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 20:50:42 +0000

This essay originally appeared in The Chronicle of Higher education (by Jessica Pierce and Marc Bekoff; reprinted with permission)

Animals are "in." This might well be called the decade of the animal. Research on animal behavior has never been more vibrant and more revealing of the amazing cognitive, emotional, and moral capacities of a broad range of animals. That is particularly true of research into social behavior—how groups of animals form, how and why individuals live harmoniously together, and the underlying emotional bases for social living. It's becoming clear that animals have both emotional and moral intelligences.

Philosophical and scientific convention, of course, has pulled toward a more conservative account of morality: Morality is a capacity unique to human beings. But the more we study the behavior of animals, the more we find that different groups of animals have their own moral codes. That raises both scientific and philosophic questions.

Researchers like Frans de Waal (The Age of Empathy: Nature's Lessons for a Kinder Society), Elliott Sober, David Sloan Wilson (Unto Others: The Evolution and Psychology of Unselfish Behavior), and Kenneth M. Weiss and Anne V. Buchanan (The Mermaid's Tale: Four Billion Years of Cooperation in the Making of Living Things) have demonstrated that animals have social lives rich beyond our imagining, and that cooperation and caring have shaped the course of evolution every bit as much as competition and ruthlessness have. Individuals form intricate networks and have a large repertoire of behavior patterns that help them get along with one another and maintain close and generally peaceful relationships. Indeed, Robert W. Sussman, an anthropologist at Washington University in St. Louis, and his colleagues Paul A. Garber and Jim Cheverud reported in 2005 in The American Journal of Physical Anthropology that for many nonhuman primates, more than 90 percent of their social interactions are affiliative rather than competitive or divisive. Moreover, social animals live in groups structured by rules of engagement—there are "right" and "wrong" ways of behaving, depending on the situation.

While we all recognize rules of right and wrong behavior in our own human societies, we are not accustomed to looking for them among animals. But they're there, as are the "good" prosocial behaviors and emotions that underlie and help maintain those rules. Such behaviors include fairness, empathy, forgiveness, trust, altruism, social tolerance, integrity, and reciprocity—and they are not merely byproducts of conflict but rather extremely important in their own right.

If we associate such behaviors with morality in human beings, why not in animals? Morality, as we define it in our recent book Wild Justice: The Moral Lives of Animals, is a suite of interrelated, other-regarding behaviors that cultivate and regulate social interactions. Those patterns have evolved in many animals, perhaps even in birds.

One of the clearest places to see how specific social rules apply is in animal play. Play has been extensively studied in social canids (members of the dog family) like wolves, coyotes, and domestic dogs, so it is a good example to use to examine the mechanisms of fair play.

Although play is fun, it's also serious business. When animals play, they are constantly working to understand and follow the rules and to communicate their intentions to play fairly. They fine-tune their behavior on the run, carefully monitoring the behavior of their play partners and paying close attention to infractions of the agreed-upon rules. Four basic aspects of fair play in animals are: Ask first, be honest, follow the rules, and admit you're wrong. When the rules of play are violated, and when fairness breaks down, so does play.

Detailed research on social play in infant domestic dogs and their wild relatives, coyotes and gray wolves, shows how just how important the rules are. Pains taking analyses of videos of individuals at play by one of us, Marc, and his students reveal that these youngsters carefully negotiate social play and use specific signals and rules so that play doesn't escalate into fighting.

When dogs—and other animals—play, they use actions like biting, mounting, and body-slamming one another, which are also used in other contexts, like fighting or mating. Because those actions can be easily misinterpreted, it's important for animals to clearly state what they want and what they expect.

In canids an action called a "bow" is used to ask others to play. When performing a bow, an animal crouches on his or her forelimbs. He or she will sometimes bark, wag the tail wildly, and have an eager look. So that the invitation to play isn't confusing, bows are highly stereotyped and show little variation. Marc and his students' detailed study of the form and duration of hundreds of bows showed surprisingly little variability in form (how much an animal crouched scaled to body size) and almost no difference between bows used at the beginning of sequences and during bouts of play. Bows are also swift, lasting only about 0.3 seconds. Over all, a threatening action—bared teeth and growls—preceded by a bow resulted in submission or avoidance by another animal only 17 percent of the time. Young coyotes are more aggressive than young dogs or wolves, and they try even harder to keep play fair. Their bows are more stereotyped than those of their relatives.

Play bows are honest signals, a sign of trust. Research shows that animals who violate that trust are often ostracized, suggesting that violation of the rules of play is maladaptive and can disrupt the efficient functioning of the group. For example, among dogs, coyotes, and wolves, individuals who don't play fairly find that their invitations to play are ignored or that they're simply avoided by other group members. Marc's long-term field research on coyotes living in the Grand Teton National Park, near Jackson, Wyo., shows that coyotes who don't play fairly often leave their pack because they don't form strong social bonds. Such loners suffer higher mortality than those who remain with others.

Animals engage in two activities that help create an equal and fair playing field: self-handicapping and role-reversing. Self-handicapping (or "play inhibition") occurs when individuals perform behavior patterns that might compromise them outside of play. For example, coyotes will inhibit the intensity of their bites, thus abiding by the rules and helping to maintain the play mood. The fur of young coyotes is very thin, and intense bites are painful and cause high-pitched squeals. In adult wolves, a bite can generate as much as 1,500 pounds of pressure per square inch, so there's a good reason to inhibit its force. Role-reversing happens when a dominant animal performs an action during play that wouldn't normally occur during real aggression. For example, a dominant wolf wouldn't roll over on his back during fighting, making himself more vulnerable to attack, but would do so while playing.

Play can sometimes get out of hand for animals, just as it does for human beings. When play gets too rough, canids keep things under control by using bows to apologize. For example, a bow might communicate something like, "Sorry I bit you so hard—I didn't mean it, so let's continue playing." For play to continue, it's important for individuals to forgive the animal who violated the rules. Once again there are species differences among young canids. Highly aggressive young coyotes bow significantly more frequently than dogs or wolves before and after delivering bites that could be misinterpreted.

The social dynamics of play require that players agree to play and not to eat one another or fight or try to mate. When there's a violation of those expectations, others react to the lack of fairness. For example, young coyotes and wolves react negatively to unfair play by ending the encounter or avoiding those who ask them to play and then don't follow the rules. Cheaters have a harder time finding play partners.

It's just a step from play to morality. Researchers who study child's play, like Ernst Fehr, of the University of Zurich, and Anthony D. Pellegrini, of the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities, have discovered that basic rules of fairness guide play, and that egalitarian instincts emerge very early in childhood. Indeed, while playing, children learn, as do other young animals, that there are right and wrong ways to play, and that transgressions of fairness have social consequences, like being ostracized. The lessons children learn—particularly about fairness—are also the foundation of fairness among adults.

When children agree, often after considerable negotiation, on the rules of a game, they implicitly consent not to arbitrarily change the rules during the heat of the game. During play, children learn the give and take of successful reciprocal exchanges (you go first this time; I get to go first next time), the importance of verbal contracts (no one can cross the white line), and the social consequences of failing to play by the rules (you're a cheater). As adults we are also constantly negotiating with others about matters of give and take, we rely daily on verbal contracts with others, and most of us, most of the time, follow myriad socially constructed rules of fairness during our daily lives.

The parallels between human and animal play, and the shared capacity to understand and behave according to rules of right and wrong conduct, are striking. They lead us to believe that animals are morally intelligent. Morality has evolved in many species, and unique features of human morality, like the use of language to articulate and enforce social norms, are simply modifications of broadly evolved behavioral patterns specific to our species.

Philosophical and scientific tradition, however, holds that although prosocial behaviors in animals may reveal the evolutionary roots of human morality, animals themselves do not and cannot have morality, because they lack the capacities that are essential constituents of moral behavior—especially the capacity for critical self-reflection upon values. Human morality is distinguished from animal "morality" by the greater generality of human moral norms, and by the greater rational self-awareness and choice that it requires. Indeed, the human prefrontal cortex, the area of the brain responsible for judgment and rational thought, is larger and more highly developed in human beings than in other animals.

That traditional view of morality is beginning to show signs of wear and tear. The fact that human morality is different from animal morality—and perhaps more highly developed in some respects—simply does not support the broader claim that animals lack morality; it merely supports the rather banal claim that human beings are different from other animals. Even if there are bona fide differences between morality in human beings and morality in other animals, there are also significant areas of overlap. Unique human adaptations might be understood as the outer skins of an onion; the inner layers represent a much broader, deeper, and evolutionarily more ancient set of moral capacities shared by many social mammals, and perhaps by other animals and birds as well.

Furthermore, recent research in cognitive neuroscience and moral psychology suggests that human morality may be much more "animalistic" than Western philosophy has generally assumed. The work of Antonio R. Damasio (Descartes' Error: Emotion, Reason, and the Human Brain), Michael S. Gazzaniga (The Ethical Brain), and Daniel M. Wegner (The Illusion of Conscious Will), among others, suggests that the vast majority of human moral behavior takes place "below the radar" of consciousness, and that rational judgment and self-reflection actually play very small roles in social interactions.

The study of animal play thus offers an invitation to move beyond philosophical and scientific dogma and to take seriously the possibility that morality exists in many animal societies. A broad and expanding study of animal morality will allow us to learn more about the social behaviors that make animal societies so successful and so fascinating, and it will also encourage us to re-examine assumptions about human moral behavior. That study is in its infancy, but we hope to see ethologists, neuroscientists, biologists, philosophers, and theologians work together to explore the implications of this new science. Already, research on animal morality is blossoming, and if we can break free of theoretical prejudice, we may come to better understand ourselves and the other animals with whom we share this planet.

Jessica Pierce is a bioethicist and writer, and Marc Bekoff is a professor emeritus of ecology and evolutionary biology at the University of Colorado at Boulder. They are authors of Wild Justice: The Moral Lives of Animals (University of Chicago Press, 2009).

Just who do we think we are, and what do the animals think about us?

Marc Bekoff — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 22:02:13 +0000

In the past few weeks there's been some interesting news that says a lot about our relationship with other animals and I just want to share some of this with you to bring you up to date. Many of these issues are discussed more fully in my recent and forthcoming books, my Psychology Today blogs, and elsewhere (Walk with the animals and New Zealand Public Radio.

Some questions that have been presented in the popular media and also directed to me from my Psychology Today blogs and at various meetings, all of which are part of the real world scenario in which we all actively participate, include:

--How should we deal with the fact that we're "all over the place", "here, there, and everywhere" as the Beatles said - a big-brained and dangerous invasive species that can do whatever we want whenever and wherever we want to do it? And, because there are too many of us and we over-consume as if it's the thing to do, and because we do what we please, we do indeed ruin the lives of billions of animals a year?

--Should we try to save endangered species? Should we bite the bullet and let some species go, even what's called the charismatic megafauna.

--Should we trade off the life of an individual for good of their species? Should we be moving individuals animals from one place to another knowing that some might die but other members of their species may live (e.g. the reintroduction of wolves into Yellowstone National Park)?

--Should we grant protection to animals who we 'bring back' from near extinction or whose numbers were very low? A case at point concerns wolves who live in Yellowstone National Park are no longer be protected. What right do we have to being animals back and then allow them to be killed? Indeed, it's federal shooters who are mercilessly slaughtering the wolves left, right, and center. Some examples include 52 wolves killed in Idaho since the start of hunting season; 3 wolves killed in Idaho's southern mountains; for a gruesome review see).

--Should we allow, and even encourage, endangered (or other) species to practice their predatory skills on animals who are raised simply to become a meal so that individuals of these imperiled species might be released into the wild (where they'll have to get their own meals) where they will only have, at best, a modest chance of surviving? Is it ethically defensible to allow and encourage some animals to kill other animals "for the good of their species?"

--What role do conservation psychology and the exciting new field of conservation social work that's emerging at the University of Denver's Institute for Human-Animal Connection play in helping us to come to terms with who we are and how we should interact with other animals?

I put these questions out for you to ponder. Right-minded people will argue for different positions but it's essential that a sound argument be offered because whether we like it or not we do indeed control and take the lives of billions of other animals each and every year, and many of us think it's just fine to do whatever we want to them. We also value some animals more than others. Wolves decimated populations of coyotes in some areas of Yellowstone National Park and let's not forget the prey animals who are raised merely to be others' meals.

Let's also keep in mind that many of the animals we kill or allow to be killed are sentient beings who don't want to be treated in this way. Why this doesn't matter to many people - why we wantonly slaughter and silence sentience - needs to be brought to the table for open discussion. The good old days of massive and reprehensible slaughter by government officials and others must be stopped now. Divisions of Wildlife are Divisions of Wilddeath and we must call attention to the ways in which they express their "love" for wildlife. Remember, as the late Gretchen Wyler, Founder of the Ark Trust (now The Hollywood Office of the Humane Society of the United States) used to say: Cruelty can't stand the spotlight. And it can't.

Let's not bring animals back from near extinction and then allow them to be killed because we think there's enough of them or because they become "pests." Let's not raise animals merely to be food for others. Every indivdiual can make a positive difference in the lives of other animals so let's get out and do it now, not later when it might be more convenient. The animals are depending on our goodwill and indifference and inaction lead to continued suffering by billions of sentient (and other) individuals, much of which can be avoided. That's what the animals want.

Animal Emotions, Animal Sentience, Animal Welfare, and Animal Rights

Marc Bekoff — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 21:19:01 +0000

Many of my books and Psychology Today blogs have dealt with animal emotions and animal sentience. Now let's briefly consider the implications that follow from the conclusion that animals can indeed feel pain and experience deep emotions? If animals are able to suffer, then we must be careful not to cause them intentional and unnecessary pain and suffering, because it is morally wrong to do so. Of course, giving my dog Jethro a painful injection to cure his lung infection or to reduce the pain he occasionally felt from his badly arthritic leg would be permissible. The major point is that our starting must be that it is wrong to cause intentional and unnecessary pain unless there are compelling reasons to override this principle that are for the benefit for the individual animal.

Should humans keep other animals in cages, eradicate them for human development, or move them from one habitat where individuals are thriving to another where they may die (for the good of their species)? Human relationships with animals and nature raise numerous complex issues. Often people wonder why those who they perceive to be concerned with the psychological and physical health of animals can't agree on solutions to existing problems. They believe that advocates of animal welfare and animal rights, those people interested in animal protection, will favor the same solutions. Often this isn't so.

People who believe that it's permissible to cause animals pain, but not unnecessary pain, argue that if we consider the animals' welfare or well-being their quality of life that's all we need to do. These people are called "welfarists" and they practice "welfarism." Welfarists believe that while humans should not wantonly exploit animals, as long as we make animals' lives comfortable, physically and psychologically, we're respecting their welfare. If animals experience comfort and some of life's pleasures, appear happy, and are free from prolonged or intense pain, fear, hunger and other unpleasant states, they're doing fine. If individuals show normal growth and reproduction, and are free from disease, injury, malnutrition and other types of suffering, they're doing well and we're fulfilling our obligations to them.

This welfarist position also assumes that it is all right to use animals to meet human ends as long as certain safeguards are used. They believe that the use of animals in experiments and the slaughtering of animals as food for humans are all right as long as these activities are conducted in a humane way. They also believe keeping animals in zoos and aquariums where there are high death rates is permissible. Welfarists do not want animals to suffer from any unnecessary pain, but they sometimes disagree among themselves about what pain is "necessary" and what humane care really amounts to. But welfarists agree that the pain and death animals suffer is sometimes justified because of the benefits that humans derive. For them, the ends justify the means - the use of animals even if they suffer because the use is considered to be necessary for human benefits.

Basically, welfarists are utilitarians who believe that dogs, cats, prairie dogs, or any other animals can be exploited as long as the pain and suffering that the animals experience the costs of using the animals to the animals are less than the benefits to humans that are gained by using the animals. Animal pain and death animals are justified because of the benefits that humans derive. The ends (human benefits) justify the means (the use of animals) even if they suffer, because their use is considered to be necessary for human gains. Those who argue that moving animals around for human benefits and using dogs and other animals to teach medical students often employ the utilitarian argument, as do those who feel comfortable eating formerly "free-ranging chickens" but not chickens who've been brutally debeaked and imprisoned in inhumane battery cages.

Now what about those who advocate animal rights? Tom Regan, professor emeritus of philosophy at North Carolina State University, is often considered the originator of the modern animal rights movement. His book The Case for Animal Rights (1983) attracted much attention to this area. Advocates who believe that animals have rights stress that animals' lives are valuable in and of themselves, not valuable just because of what they can do for humans or because they look or behave like us. Animals are not property or "things," but rather living organisms, subjects of a life, who are worthy of our compassion, respect, friendship, and support. Rightists expand the borders of species to whom we grant certain rights. Thus, animals are not "lesser" or "less valuable" than humans. They are not property that may be abused or dominated at will. Any amount of animal pain and death is unnecessary and unacceptable.

Rightists also are concerned with animals' quality of life. However, they argue it's wrong to abuse or exploit animals, to cause animals any pain and suffering, and that animals shouldn't be eaten, held captive in zoos, or used in most (or any) educational or research settings. They believe animals have certain moral and legal rights including the right to life and the right not to be harmed. According to Gary Francione, a professor of law at Rutgers University, to say an animal has a "right" to have an interest protected means the animal is entitled to have that interest protected even if it would benefit us to do otherwise. Rightists believe humans have an obligation to honor that claim for animals just as they do for non-consenting humans who can't protect their own interests. So, if a dog has a right to be fed you have an obligation to make sure she's fed. If a dog has a right to be fed, you're obligated not to do anything to interfere with feeding her. Of course, you might prevent her from feeding on garbage or something that might harm her, but this isn't what I'm referring to.

Rightists also stress that animals' lives are inherently valuable; their lives aren't valuable because of their utility to humans. Animals aren't "less valuable" than humans. Also, animals are neither property nor "things," but rather living organisms, subjects of a dignified life, who are worthy of our support, friendship, compassion and respect. Any amount of pain and death is unnecessary and unacceptable.

Now, what about many conservation biologists and environmentalists? Typically, they're welfarists who are willing to trade-off individuals' lives for the perceived good of higher levels of organization such as ecosystems, populations or species. Witness the reintroduction of Canadian lynx into Colorado or wolves into Yellowstone National Park. Some conservationists and environmentalists, in contrast to rightists, argued that the death of some individuals (even the agonizingly painful starvation of lynx who were placed in a habitat where it was known that there wasn't enough food) was permissible for the perceived good of the species. Some even say that we should concentrate on the animals who are known to be alive, rather than the dead or the missing. People who claim it's all right to kill "pests" such as brown rats and other animals because there are numerous other members of their species are taking a utilitarian stance. People who allow captive predatory animals to kill and eat other animals (prey who can't get away) to train them so they can be released into the wild also are adopting the utilitarian position.

Labeling an individual a "welfarist" or "rightist" connotes important messages about their views on animal exploitation. One must be careful how these words are tossed around. Welfarists and rightists have radically different perceptions, perspectives and agendas, and solve problems differently. They preach very different codes of conduct. Welfarism and rights are extremely difficult to reconcile. Indeed, many experts think it's an impossible marriage. Nonetheless, it's essential to understand their different perspectives in our efforts to protect animals who can't speak for themselves and whose voices fall on deaf ears. Animals truly care if they're confronting a welfarist or a rightist for their very lives are in the hands of the people who can do anything they want to them.

Animals and Inmates: Science Behind Bars

Marc Bekoff — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 20:54:12 +0000

For ten years I've been teaching animal behavior and conservation biology at the Boulder (Colorado) County Jail as part of the Jane Goodall Institute's Roots & Shoots Program. The course is one of the most popular in the jail. Students have to earn the right to enroll and they work hard to get in it.

While there's student turnover, we're all pleasantly surprised at how science connects the inmates to various aspects of nature and that many find it easier to connect with animals than with people. Animals don't judge them and many of the inmates had lived with dogs, cats, and other companions who were their best friends. They trust and empathize with animals in ways they don't with humans.

Nonetheless, there remains a distorted view of how animals treat one another. At one of the first meetings someone was talking out of turn as I was setting up the curriculum. One of the guys yelled, "Hey, shut up, you're acting like an ass. This guy's here to help us." I responded, "You’ve just paid him a complement." I explained that animals could be kind and empathic. While there's competition and aggression there's also a lot of cooperation, empathy, and reciprocity. I explained that these behaviors are examples of "wild justice" and this idea made them rethink what it means to be an animal. They've had enough of nature red in tooth and claw and many lament, "Look where that 'I'm behaving like an animal' excuse got me."

Topics we actively discuss include general aspects of animal behavior, the evolution of social behavior, evolution and creationism, biology and religion, sustainability, extinction, animal protection and environmental ethics, eugenics, environmental enrichment, balance in nature, complex webs of nature, cultural views of animals, and who we are in the grand scheme of things -- anthropocentric influences on animals and the environment. Our exchanges rival those that I've had at university classes.

Many of the students see the class as building community with animals and with people. They yearn to build healthy relationships. I use examples of the social behavior of group-living animals such as wolves as a model for developing and maintaining long-term friendships among individuals who must work together not only for their own good but also for the good of the group.

From time to time I ask the inmates what they get of the class. Here are some responses:

--The course is healing.

--I've learned a lot about understanding and appreciating animals as individuals.

--The class balances scientific rigor with social consciousness.

--The class gives us a sense of connection to webs of life.

--What I do counts. I now have a vision for the future.

--The class models healthy prosocial ways of living and working in the world.

--The class makes me feel better about myself.

It's clear that science inspires the students and gives them hope. I've been told that because of the class some of their kids are more likely to go into science. I know some students have gone back to school while others have made contributions in time and money to conservation organizations. Some have gone to work for humane societies. One student went on to receive a master's degree in nature writing.

Science and humane education have helped the inmates connect with values that they otherwise wouldn't have done. Science opens the door to understanding, trust, cooperation, community, and hope. There's a large untapped population of individuals to whom science means a lot but they haven't had the exposure needed to further their education. By the way, I continue to get as much out of the class as the students and it's made me a better teacher on the outside.

Factory Farming Without Animal Suffering Isn't Okay

Marc Bekoff — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 21:31:20 +0000

This is an interesting set of interviews about the possibility of pain-free factory farming and what it might mean that will be of interest to many people (Show 67)

"This weeks programme is devoted to pain: the pain that factory farmed animals suffer to be exact. One philosopher wants to take away one component of that suffering has a controversial idea. I talk to him and then take comments from two senior academics – an ethicist and a animal ethologist." You can also read a synopsis of the arguments for and against pain-free factory farming from an essay in New Scientist.

While there are different sides to this issue feeling pain is only one aspect of factory farming. Even if pain-free animals could be bred who wouldn't suffer as they went through the grueling process of becoming a meal the fact that these animals have their own feelings and feelings for others and are alive, even if they do not feel physical pain, warrants against using them in ways that result in their death.The amount of cruelty that pervades slaughterhouses worldwide is incalculable, and it’s made worse because animals have awareness and feelings. Cows display strong emotions; they feel pain, fear, and anxiety, and studies have shown they worry about the future. They and other agricultural animals make and miss their friends. Veterinarian John Webster and his colleagues have shown how cows within a herd form smaller friendship groups of between two and four animals with whom they spend most of their time, often grooming and licking each other. They also dislike other cows and can bear grudges for months or years.

There's no doubt that cows and other farm animals are sentient beings who care very much about what happens to them. Even if animals don't feel pain that's no reason to keep them on factory farms or even to eat them.

Animals Feelings and Fur: Who (Not What) We Wear is An Ethical Choice

Marc Bekoff — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 21:34:44 +0000

If one doubts that animals have deep feelings consider what they endure as they become unnecessary clothing. It's easy to say that animals used for fur coats and fur trim (and leather) don't like how they're treated. As sentient mammals they have deep and enduring feelings just like our favorite companion animals, dogs and cats. And we would never subject our companions to the reprehensible treatment to which fur-farmed animals are subjected. But in some countries dogs and cats do wind up as clothing.

We don’t need to wear animals to be warm or to feel comfortable. Fur farms and the people who trap and use animals for clothing are purveyors of the most unspeakable horrors. In the process of becoming a coat the bones of a fox, chinchilla, or mink go snap, crackle, and pop as they are tortured unrelentingly and unnecessarily. The number of animal skins needed to make a 40-inch fur coat may surprise you — 60 mink, 50 muskrats, 42 red foxes, 40 raccoons, 20 badgers, 18 lynx, 16 coyotes, and 15 beavers. According to animal activist Camilla Fox (Founder of Project Coyote), globally, more than 50 million animals a year continue to be killed for their fur. Although the number of wild animals trapped in the United States has decreased from nearly 14 million in 1987 to fewer than 4 million in 2005, increasing overseas fur markets and the growing popularity of fur trim could reverse this trend. (It's interesting to note that many former fur trappers, unable to profit from their trade, have switched to “nuisance” or “damage control” trapping, a fast-growing, highly unregulated industry capitalizing on increased urban/suburban conflicts with wildlife and employing the same body-gripping traps used in fur trapping.)

Fox has also disclosed that there are extensive negative effects of trapping that significantly compromise the well-being and behavior of many different species who are used for fur. Clearly, ethical concerns abound. Many animals used for fur also suffer out of our view beneath the surface of lakes and rivers. Consider what Fox wrote in my Encyclopedia of Animal Behavior about trapping aquatic animals: “Leghold and submarine traps act by restraining the animals underwater until they drown. Most semi-aquatic animals, including mink, muskrat, and beaver, are adapted to diving by means of special oxygen conservation mechanisms."

The experience of drowning in a trap is extremely terrifying. Imagine what a dog or cat might feel. Biologists Frederick Gilbert and Norman Gofton discovered that animals display intense and violent struggling and were found to take up to four minutes for mink to die, nine minutes for muskrats to die, and ten to thirteen minutes for beavers to die. Mink have been shown to struggle frantically prior to loss of consciousness, an indication of extreme trauma. Most animals caught in aquatic traps struggle for more than three minutes before losing consciousness.

The suffering of these sentient beings goes unnoticed because the water in which they live shrouds it. What is simply unacceptable is that there isn’t any legislation that is concerned with this hidden problem. Because most animals trapped in aquatic sets struggle for more than three minutes before losing consciousness, wildlife biologists have argued that they did not meet basic trap standards and therefore can’t be considered humane. Fox concluded, “For an activity that affects millions of wild animals each year, it is astounding that so little is known about the full impact of trapping on individual animals, wildlife populations and ecosystem health.”

Some claim that fur is green. Fur surely isn’t green despite the claims of the Fur Council of Canada. They claim, “buying a fur coat is the ecologically correct thing to do because fox stoles and mink coats are natural, renewable and sustainable. By contrast, synthetic furs are no more than by-products of the petro-chemical industry. Making a single faux fur coat can chew up 19 litres of petroleum, a non-renewable resource, says the council. Ergo, buying a fur coat is good for the planet.” Of course they don’t consider the horrible lives of the animals they torture.

We can all make more compassionate choices - to expand our compassion footprint - in who we wear - not what we wear - for animals used for fur are sentient beings not unfeeling objects. Among the easiest things we can do is to stop buying clothing that is made from animals. Doing more for animals is actually pretty simple. For example, an eight year-old boy humbly reminded me that when we buy something we’re essentially saying “It’s okay for the store to carry it” and “It’s okay for the manufacturer to make whatever it is we buy.” Everything we purchase is a vote to make more of it. Let’s stop the use of animals for clothing but refusing to buy and to wear the skins of abused sentient beings. Thanks to the clothing manufacturers and stores who have stopped offering fur products. And I'm sure the animals who are saved from unnecessary suffering and death would thank us for making more compassionate and ethical choices if they could.

Going To The Dogs Is A Good Idea: It's Not A Dog Eat Dog World

Marc Bekoff — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 14:11:02 +0000

Animals are "in" these days and our companion dogs are among the most popular animal beings with whom many of us have close contact. In about 40% of households in the United States there's at least one of 75 million companion dogs (excluding those in shelters) and of the 88 million companion cats in the United States at least one is found in about 34% of households. Dogs are like family to most people and more than 75% of children in the United States live with companion animals and are more likely to grow up with a nonhuman companion than with both parents. American boys are more likely to care for their companion animals than for older relatives or younger siblings. In a recent Psychology Today blog Alexandra Horowitz, author of Inside of a Dog, explains why we treat dogs better then we treat their wild relatives, wolves, from whom they evolved.

Here I just want to alert readers to some current ideas about the use of dogs in cognitive research and some recent discoveries based on an essay titled "Going to the Dogs" by Virginia Morell in the prestigious professional journal Science (28 August 2009). Dogs have had a rocky reputation in research depending on the nature of the study. Over the years millions have been used and severely abused in a wide variety of invasive biomedical and psychological experiments but when it comes to behavioral research researchers have had varied opinions about whether or not dogs are good subjects. I was told years ago that studying social play behavior in dogs was a waste of time not only because we could never get a handle on what play is and why animals love to do it but also because play in dogs isn't like play in other animals because dogs aren't real animals. I decided these skeptics were totally wrong and after about 35 years of research I have clearly shown that this was a ridiculous worry (Animals at Play and Wiid Justice), as have many of my colleagues (The Genesis of Animal Play and The Playful Brain).

The tide is changing and most scientists see the value in studying our best friends with whom we've had a long association as we domesticated them to be who we want them to be. The summary from "Going to the Dogs" reads as follows:

"Dogs are fast becoming the it animal for evolutionary cognition research. Our canine pals, researchers say, are excellent subjects for studying the building blocks underlying mental abilities, particularly those involving social cognition. Their special relationship with humans is also seen as worthy of study in its own right; some researchers see Canis familiaris as a case of convergent evolution with humans because we share some similar behavioral traits. And because all dogs are descended from gray wolves (C. lupus), they can reveal how domestication has altered a species' mental processes, enabling the dog to survive in its new habitat, the human home. Some researchers even think that dogs may teach us more about the evolution of some aspects of our social mind than can our closest kin, the chimpanzee, because Fido is so adept at reading and responding to human communication cues. But not everyone agrees, arguing that the skills dogs share with humans are a matter of learning rather than evolutionary change."

The essay in Science also shows that there's a lot of interest in how the mind of the dog develops similarly to the mind of humans but I don't find the arguments as yet all that compelling. We should appreciate dogs for who they are whether or not they're like us

It's also really interesting that dogs do things that wolves can't, even wolves who are raised with humans. Research in Adam Miklósi’s laboratory in Budapest, Hungary has shown that 4-month-old puppies in a choice test always preferred a human companion to a dog, whereas young wolves showed no preference. Much of what is currently known about the cognitive abilities of dogs and wolves is reviewed in a recent article in the peer-reviewed online journal PloS ONE:

"In sum, in dogs the necessary social skills for utilizing human pointing signals or the preparedness for their rapid development have been selected for in the domestication process. For wolves, a compensating developmental route might enable the establishment of the behavioural basis of successful communication and cooperation with humans in some tasks. Wolves, however, react to a lesser degree to socialisation in contrast to dogs, which are able to display control of agonistic behaviours and inhibition of actions in a food related task early in development. The synergistic hypothesis suggests that the dog-wolf difference in the sensitivity for human gestural cues emerges both at the evolutionary and developmental level. Further studies are needed to investigate whether this can be interpreted in the phenotype as a developmental change in the timing (heterochrony) of some social skills in dogs."

As I've pointed out elsewhere, wolves are not domesticated animals, even those with whom we share our homes or can interact. They are socialized individuals but they have not undergone domestication. A domesticated wolf is a dog!

I talked about the Science essay and dogs in general with my colleague dog expert Mark Derr, author of two wonderful books on dogs (A Dog's History of America and Dog's Best Friend) and he agrees that we need to be careful about comparing dogs to young children because each occupies a different perceptual world from our own which is one reason they are so helpful to us.

Mark and I also question the conclusion of well-known dog researcher Michael Tomasello. Based on his reading of dog research that has been conducted in highly controlled situations in various laboratories, he claimed "Dogs are collaborating with us; they aren’t doing this with other dogs." I've seen dogs collaborate with others at dog parks and other locales where they can run free and collaboration and cooperation are the very reasons why dogs (and other animals) are able to play with one another. I'm sure many of you have also seen examples of collaboration and cooperation. While laboratory studies are very important in learning about dog cognition we also need to pay attention to what they do when dogs are free to run with their canine buddies and how they share information about what they know, want, and feel. Dogs are highly social so when people lament that "it's a dog eat dog world" this is totally misleading because dogs don't eat other dogs.

What's so exciting is that there is so much to learn about our companion dogs and it can be done in noninvasive experiments and also while they're having fun on the run with their friends. Research data and good anecdotes are all needed to increase our knowledge about what dogs and other animals are able to do and what they know and feel. We need to keep the door open on how smart and adaptable they are and also how domestication has played a role in defining who they are and who we are.

Individual Animals Count: Speciesism Doesn't Work

Marc Bekoff — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 00:52:22 +0000

Spare the chimps, boil the shrimps, shock the mice, kill the lice, eat the hogs, pith the frogs, blind the rabbits, what drives these habits?

One hundred and fifty years ago Charles Darwin published his classic book On the Origin of Species. This book is considered by many to be one of the most influential works ever published. There and elsewhere Darwin emphasized that differences among species are differences in degree rather than kind, and his ideas about evolutionary continuity revolutionized the ways in which we think about who "we" (humans) are and who "they" (other animals) are

Human animals use nonhuman animals (hereafter animals) in many ways - for food, research, education, entertainment, and testing cosmetics and other products. Animals are also routinely and wantonly killed because humans want to expand their horizons - building more shopping malls, parking lots, subdivisions or office buildings. Human benefits are said to outweigh the costs to the animals - their anxiety, pain, and death -- and human interests trump those of the animals.

People often use species membership to decide which animals can be used for various purposes. Using species membership for such decisions rather than an individual's unique characteristics is called "speciesism", a term coined by the psychologist Richard Ryder to indicate prejudice based on physical differences.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines speciesism as "discrimination against or exploitation of certain animal species by human beings, based on an assumption of mankind’s superiority." For example, all and only humans might constitute a protected group regardless of an individual's unique characteristics. When animals such as great apes are protected from invasive research this decision is speciesist because all great apes are protected regardless of an individual's unique characteristics. Speciesism results in animals being classified hierarchically as “lower” and “higher” with humans on the top rung of the ladder. This speciesist view ignores individual variations in behavior within and between species and hierarchical speciesism results in endless harm and is bad biology.

Speciesists often use taxonomic or behavioral (cognitive, emotional) closeness to humans, similar appearance, or the possession of various cognitive capacities displayed by normal adult humans to draw the line that separates humans from other animals. Cognitive abilities include the capacities for self-consciousness, to engage in purposive behavior, to communicate using a language, to make moral judgments, and to reason (rationality).

Using these criteria, many animals cannot qualify for protection. But there also are some humans (young infants and adults whose lives are compromised physically or psychologically) who cannot qualify either, and this can be a problem for speciesists who rely on species-typical cognitive or emotional capacities and ignore individual differences.

Because of individual differences within a species, this view from the top, a human-centered "them" versus "us" perspective, can be difficult to apply consistently. Speciesists also often use such words as "higher" and "lower" to refer to different groups of animals. But, such words fail to consider the lives and the worlds of the animals themselves. Value judgments also accompany words like "lower" and "higher" and can result in mistreating individuals who are thought to be lower - not as smart, emotional, good, or valuable - than others based on species membership.

While there are obvious species and individual differences in behavior, in and of themselves they mean little for arguments about animal protection. Many animals experience pain, anxiety, and suffering (physically and psychologically) when they are held in captivity or subjected to extreme starvation, social isolation, physical restraint, or presented with painful situations from which they cannot escape. And even if it's not the same sort of pain, anxiety, or suffering experienced by humans, or even other animals including members of the same species, their feelings count. "Anyone who says that life matters less to animals than it does to us has not held in his hands an animal fighting for its life. The whole of the being of the animal is thrown into that fight, without reserve." (Elizabeth Costello, in J. M. Coetzee's book The Lives of Animals)

It’s individuals who count when we consider how we treat other animals. Philosopher James Rachels’s important notion of moral individualism that he presented in his book Created from Animals: The Moral Implications of Darwinism is based on the following argument “If A is to be treated differently from B, the justification must be in terms of A’s individual characteristics and B’s individual characteristics. Treating them differently cannot be justified by pointing out that one or the other is a member of some preferred group, not even the ‘group’ of human beings.” According to this view, careful attention must be paid to individual variations in behavior within species. It is individuals who personally feel pain and suffer, not species.

Those people who choose use animals must show more sensitivity to the animals they use. Animals aren't mere resources or property. We must respect their dignity and their lives. It's a privilege to share their worlds.

Much animal use is driven by the similarities rather than the differences between humans and other animals. Philosopher Lynne Sharpe points out in her book Creatures Like Us that when we explore and ponder the similarities and differences among animals it all depends on how we define ourselves. She writes, “Those who define ‘us’ by our ability to introspect give a distorted view of what is important to and about human beings and ignore the fact that many creatures are like us in more significant ways in that we all share the vulnerability, the pains, the fears, and the joys that are the life of social animals."

If "them" who are used are so much like "us," much more work needs to be done to justify our choices of how to use animals for human ends. Speciesism fails to provide a strong defense.