My Family and Other Animals
Why doctors are just glorified veterinarians
Posted Oct 09, 2010
Science has a nasty habit of deflating the human ego. Once upon a time, the earth was the centre of the universe and human beings were the centerpiece and purpose of creation, the central focus of the creator of the universe. Then science came along and, before we knew what had hit us, we were demoted to inconsequential specks of dust scrambling around blindly on a pale blue dot orbiting an average star in an inconceivably large universe. Some say that size doesn't matter, but we all know that really it does. Never again would we see ourselves in the same light.
I suppose we're all accustomed by now to the idea that all human beings are related to one another. I look more like my brother than I look like my cousin because I'm more closely related to my brother, and that's exactly the same reason that I look more like my cousin than a random stranger. The species doesn't divide into two groups: relatives and non-relatives. We're all relatives - you, me, Einstein, Buddha, Hitler - it's just that some of us are more distantly related than others. (Try not to think about this next time you're with your spouse, partner, or lover. You're blood relatives!)
All this is true of other animals as well. So, just as we look more like our cousins than our neighbors, we look more like our neighbors than chimpanzees, but it's the same kind of difference in both cases - a difference in relatedness. If you could trace your family tree back to your 250,000th great grandparent, you would come to the most recent common ancestor of all human beings and the chimps and the bonobos. If you went back further, you would eventually come to the most recent common ancestor of yourself and your pet cat or dog, or the bird in the tree outside, or the spider in the shower. All these animals are your long-lost distant cousins. A visit to the zoo is a family reunion.
But Darwin's theory does more than simply stress our kinship with the animals. It challenges the very idea that the inhabitants of this planet can be meaningfully divided into humans and animals in the first place. We now know that we all came about through the same process, and our common origin suggests that we will have more in common with other animals than we previously imagined. We are one animal species among countless millions. Certainly, the human-animal distinction is still workable; after all, we rarely make errors in assigning entities to one category or the other. But after Darwin, the distinction suddenly seems arbitrary - as arbitrary as the equally workable distinction between, say, turtles and non-turtles. Post-Darwin, it is more natural to think of humans as a subset of the category animal. The idea that humans are not animals makes precisely as much sense as the idea that the earth is not a planet, or the sun not a star. We can say these things if we want to. However, if we wish to frame an objective view of the universe (i.e., a view that would be equally valid from the perspective of any species on any planet), we must view the sun as a star, the earth as a planet... and humans as animals.
This suggestion is no doubt far less shocking to modern ears than it was in Darwin's day. Nonetheless, it is not clear that most people have fully taken on board its implications. If they had, then perhaps academic disciplines such as sociology and anthropology would be viewed as specialist branches of zoology; medical doctors would be viewed as a subtype of veterinarians (one that specializes in tending to the health needs of just one species); human rights would be viewed as a subset of animal rights; and the socialization of children would be viewed as one example of the training or domestication of animals (making parents and teachers a subtype of animal trainers). These examples aren't particularly serious. They do make a serious point, though, which is that, at least to some extent, we still view ourselves as set apart from the rest of the animal kingdom. For this reason, we may have a moral blind spot when it comes to our ‘fellow brethren' (as Darwin once described nonhuman animals).
Another reason people may have been resistant to the idea that humans are animals is that it raises a disturbing possibility: If other animals are no more than complex organic machines, as Descartes and others suggested, then perhaps so too are we. Although a lot of people today are quite at ease with the idea that we are animals, in Darwin's day, it was profoundly unwelcome news. And the fact of the matter is that, for many people, it still is.
Now for some good news: In my next blog posting, I will reveal... the meaning of life!