Dolphins
I've been thinking about dolphins again, and consequently about the status of non-human animals in relation to ourselves generally (and related issues). I recently commented on Mark Rowlands' blog post "Why I am not a Humanist, Part 1", and I sort of sidetracked things there by bringing up dolphins -- although I think I had due cause for doing so.
Mark's bottom line was that the idea that "humans are the most important thing there is -- at least in the known universe ... makes humanism far too much like a religion" for his liking. One response, by Bernie R., was that Mark's "implied belief that humans are not the most important things there are in the known universe is far too much like religion for my liking ... Do you not realise what you have got? Look around the known universe, and see what you would swap for being a human. There's nothing, is there?"
To this, I could not but respond as follows:
I don't consider it at all odd to say that I could swap being a human for, say, being a dolphin; especially if I could be assured (in advance) that there would be no humans in my world; or at least no fishermen (or is it fisherpersons?).
(Oh, and there would have to be plenty of fish and other dolphins too.)
Of course, I have no way of knowing what it's like to be a dolphin (although see In Defense of Dolphins by Thomas White for some illumination in this regard). But in whatever way it makes sense to even ask the question what in the known universe I would swap for being a human, I think it makes sense to reply, "A dolphin!"
In other words, I think it makes at least some sense.
In my case, at least, it seems I don't have to look very far, after all.
Bernie replied, in turn, that she ought to have anticipated such a response, and she asserted that the reason she was interested in this issue at all was that she hears people saying "how awful humans are, how awful our existence is, how we would be better off as animals and so on." (My first thought here, of course, was, "Aren't we animals?" But I held my tongue.) Bernie finished up by informing me that "I think it shows you really don't understand what you've got. What a pity." After subsequently apologizing for sounding "so harsh" (no offence taken, Bernie, don't worry!!), she added:
I do think it's lovely to imagine being like a dolphin, but you would be giving up so much if dolphin life is like I think it is. Constant swimming, emotions and urges and mechanisms to express them at a grunty/squeaky level, but very little imagination. I think you underestimate the size of the gap between us and them.
At this point, I expressed my concern that we were -- or at least I was -- virtually hijacking Mark's blog.
Still, I added that
First, I hope I haven't misrepresented myself. I certainly didn't mean to suggest that humans are awful, that our existence is awful, or that we would be better off as animals. Aside from the obvious fact that many humans can be awful creatures, I think humans are quite wonderful -- both in general and in the cases of specific individuals. I fear we have much progress to make, and I'd really like to see us make it; but still, we are wonderful. I certainly hope I appreciate what I -- and we -- have got (and I think I do).
Second (and I hope this doesn't conflict with my first point; I don't think it does), if dolphin life is supposed to be inferior to ours in virtue of its merely involving "Constant swimming, emotions and urges and mechanisms to express them at a grunty/squeaky level, but very little imagination", then I wonder if you have not overestimated the gap between us and them: if we omit "swimming" and insert something more appropriate to our means of locomotion, I think we have a fair description of much of what passes for human life.
Third, I actually happen to think that there is a big gap between us and the dolphins, though they are -- even on our scales of measuring such things -- close to being our peers in intelligence. But I don't think intelligence is a property that manifests itself in the same way no matter what the species or environment. In other words, I wonder if there might be as much to be gained as lost by our *swapping* being a human for a dolphin. I think dolphins, since they are my example, represent a quite alien intelligence, with alien values, and so forth. I think they live incredibly complex and highly fulfilling lives. I wonder how much of value they would have to give up in *swapping* being a dolphin for a human?
Bernie subsequently replied that "Dolphins are not 'close to being our peers' in intelligence", and added that
Language-assisted thinking puts us in a different league to dolphins. It allows us to understand and use time and space and energy and matter in infinite ways that transcend anything any other animal could do. We can change the world, for ourselves and all the other creatures, we can insulate ourselves from natural forces, we are conquering disease, soon we may create life. ... Some wild dolphins have learned to protect their noses with sponges they pick up off the seabed, and that is about the limit of their natural creative ingenuity, their ability to assess a situation and change it purposefully.
She ended by assuring me that compared to a dolphin, I was "like a god".
In my final response, I wondered whether language is really as important to intelligence as we philosophers tend to think it is:
If intelligence is about the brain's ability to process information in ways that solve problems, thereby enhancing the survival of individual members of a species as well as the species itself. Then dolphins may be more intelligent than us.
At this point, I quoted from Thomas White's (quite wonderful) book on dolphins (p. 154):
Dolphins have not produced what humans have. But their intelligence appears to have let them discover how to live within the limits of their environment and how to deal with each other. The way dolphins live maximizes the odds that not only the individual dolphins but entire species will have long and successful lives in the water. Since the same cannot yet be said of humans, asking which species is "more intelligent" may not be such a silly question after all.
I ended by paraphrasing some of White's conclusions. According to him, dolphins use their impressive cognitive and affective abilities to deal with problems, they have highly organized societies, acoustic and non-acoustic ways of communicating with one another, and devote most of their time to developing and maintaining strong relationships with one another. Indeed, given the centrality of emotion in their lives, it seems likely that they regularly process more emotional information than we humans do. Moreover, I noted that on comparative measures of EQ (encephalization quotient, which correlates with the degree of behavioural complexity and cognitive capacity of a species' brain), humans come in at 7.0 and dolphins come in at 4.95, with our closest related primate lagging somewhat behind at 2.3. Thus, I pointed out that what I had meant to say by maintaining that Dolphins are "close to being our peers in intelligence" was that dolphins are our closest peers in the known universe in intelligence (and not really that far from us, all things considered); and that's before we factor in how different "intelligence" may actually be across species.
In sum, I noted that I have complex abilities that a dolphin doesn't; but equally vice versa (and for a dramatic instance of the latter, see the video clip at the end of this post).
For anyone who hasn't read White's book, I strongly recommend doing so. White makes an extremely strong case for our considering dolphins to be persons, and utilizes the suggestive idea that dolphin intelligence is alien intelligence (an idea he borrows from Diana Reiss). In particular, this device makes it possible for White to avoid the obvious temptation to anthropomorphize dolphins. By examining dolphins' evolutionary adaptations to living in the water, the structure of their brain -- especially in relation to ours, noting both important similarities and differences -- White concludes that
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The dolphin brain is the second most complicated and powerful brain on the planet (to our own).
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The dolphin has a "paralimbic" lobe which the human brain lacks; this may result in more integrated information processing, allowing more limbic or emotional information to be processed by the dolphin brain than by the human brain.
- While the human brain emphasizes detail, the dolphin's may emphasize speed.
- The dolphin brain may compensate with its size for what it lacks structurally; White notes that the dolphin brain has been evolving for 15 million years, and hence has had "more opportunity to develop the nuances of its potential than the human brain has."
White also shows that Dolphins are capable of advanced cognitive tasks, including self-recognition, language comprehension, and social behaviour. His conclusion is that dolphin and human brains have managed to get to roughly (in the larger scheme of things) the same order of cognitive capacity, but via very different evolutionary routes. This, he takes it, reinforces the idea that dolphins are a sort of "alien" intelligence for us.
He also argues dolphins are not only able to recognize themselves in mirror tests, and so forth, but are also able to understand pointing behaviour; hence, he concludes (you'll have to read the original for details) that dolphins understand the intention behind pointing, and so are able to recognize the existence of other minds. The upshot is that dolphins are
- aware of themselves and others
- experience at least basic emotions
- engage in a degree of abstract, conceptual thought, and
- choose their actions
Dolphins are cognitively flexible, self-motivated to learn, able to problem-solve, and can understand language.
In this last regard, White's conclusion is that Dolphins can understand and work with the basic elements of an artificial language, including:
- a wide vocabulary, which includes symbols to represent actions, objects, and the presence and absence of objects
- a vocabulary which incorporates the concept of generalization
- grammatical rules and categories by means of which to assemble symbols into meaningful sentences
- complex sentences including modifiers and both direct and indirect objects
- questions and commands
Because dolphins have no language of their own, White notes that their so successfully learning and using our specially constructed "dolphin languages" has an important implication: dolphins are able to highly successfully operate in a completely foreign cognitive environment. In order to illustrate what it would be mean for us to operate in a similarly foreign cognitive environment, White presents us with the following analogy (p. 111):
[I]magine that you're an explorer looking for a lost civilization. You come upon a huge door at the base of a mountain. Behind you is a swift, white-water stream. What you haven't realized is that the stream is actually an artifact -- made by the civilization for which you're searching. And the instructions for opening the door are contained in the recurring patterns and shapes that the water takes as it flows past you. The eddies, swirls and splashes are actually symbols that appear in the shape and order that they do because of the unique design of the stream. You must learn to break the code contained in the motion of the water if you're going to open the door. However, in order to do so, you must think very differently about what you're seeing when you look at the stream. You must demonstrate enormous cognitive flexibility.
There is much of great wonder and importance in White's book, and I really think that everyone should read it. (It's available here.) However, one aspect of dolphin life and behaviour upon which White only briefly touches is their exquisite playfulness and creativity; for a striking example of such behaviour -- and of what I dearly want to call "dolphin art" -- I offer this (switch on the sound!):
Bernie R (not verified) on June 05th 2008
Hello Oisin,
I'm glad you had the idea of moving the discussion here.
I'd like to be a bit more clear about what we are each saying, and why.
I began by questioning Mark's implication that humans are not the most important thing in the known universe. In part 2 of his piece he explores what it could mean to be "important", and he suggests it might involve being "better". But, he says, a wolf is better at running, and I, Mark, am better at logic, and in general the wolf is better at being a wolf, and Mark is better at being a human. You seem to be saying the same about dolphins, they have abilities too, who is to say whose abilities are better?
I am saying firstly that if those are to be the criteria for importance, then humans are
more important. In order to run better than a wolf, you get on a motorbike. Being a wolf involves killing abilities, but we killed all the wolves in my country centuries ago. We replaced wolves with better wolves (from our point of view) by using them to breed dogs. Our dogs and our motorbikes function as extensions of our own beings, and so do the sort of extended conceptualisations that enable us to breed new animals and make machines to do anything animals can do.
If we wanted to make air vortex rings like those in your captivating dolphin video, we could do it, probably in a couple of days if we really needed to. We can blow smoke rings and put our finger through them already.
The dolphins swim round all day every day, ducking their heads and breathing though their air hole. If they do that in a certain way, a vortex forms. When they mess around with the vortex, it behaves in certain (captivating) ways, and they learn to do that and use it to occupy themselves in that tank. But it's something that just happens, literally right in front of their noses.
They can't extend themselves, and this is another aspect of the crucial difference between us, what makes us more "important" than them (although I certainly wouldn't have chosen that word).
You frankly acknowledge that you "dearly want" to call the dolphin rings art, but if you're going to be serious and fair you have to acknowledge openly that they are not art. They are not art, because art has an extended meaning.
That could be used to exemplify the gap between humans and all the other animals.
Of course they do have intelligence, I've never denied that, but they don't have the type of intelligence we have, which is transcendent, which allows us to get outside of ourselves and our situation, in the way I have been calling "extension".
So, I think you have no reason to be baffled at me, because I accept animals have intelligence, but I am still baffled at you, and even more so now you say you think dolphins have moral responsibilities.
oisin on June 07th 2008
Hi Bernie,
Yes, I thought it would be more appropriate to move any further discussion over here. I also think it's worth trying to be a bit more clear about what each of us is saying. But I do have a concern that we may end up going around in circles. It may simply be that I have one intuition, while you have another. Sometimes it's possible to sort such situations out with a bit of clear argument, but sometimes not. Sometimes people just ground out in very different ways of viewing things, with no clear way to decide between them. This happens all the time in the free will debate, for instance, between compatibilists and incompatibilists.
I also have a concern that our discussion involves a host of "big-ticket items" -- relating, for example, to value, the nature of intelligence, etc. I doubt that a wide-ranging discussion on a blog is likely to resolve all the disputes there may be between us on all these matters. But it's probably worth saying a little more about some of them.
I agree with some of the comments on Mark's blog; I don't see any necessary connection between humanism and the idea that humans are either (a) the only important thing or (b) the most important thing in the known universe. I think Mark could have made his point about there being no objective standard of usefulness we can appeal to in order to decide between what is "better" for a wolf or a human without mentioning humanism. I think there is a tendency in humanism to be anthropocentric, but I thought the commenters were correct in pointing out that the specific claims (a) and (b) above didn't follow from Marks' definitions.
You write:
I think we have deeply different ways of approaching things.
First, I happen to think that wolves are incredibly beautiful creatures, and I have been fortunate enough to see a few of them myself deep in the wilds of Canada (They have not, thankfully, been killed off here! There are a great many wolves still roaming the wilderness here.) So wolves have at least aesthetic value, for me and for others. Part of their aesthetic value, for me as for many others, is that they are wild creatures and not living in captivity, for example in a zoo. Indeed, seeing large predators such as wolves or big cats in a zoo is deeply depressing (I think). I also think there are good arguments that establish wolves' extrinsic value to environments. The reintroduction of wolves (from Canada) to Yellowstone Park in the U.S. had far-reaching and unforeseen effects on that ecosystem, most of which have been positive. Of course, there are other criteria which establish value for wolves independently of their value to us, such as the utilitarian criterion of sentience: wolves are creatures with interests of their own, and are able to suffer.
Second, you write "In order to run better than a wolf you get on a motorbike". This is silly. So allow me to be (somewhat) silly in response. I happen to ride a motorbike myself, and I've also spent a good deal of time deep in the wilderness in Canada, where wolves live. You cannot compete with a wolf in chasing down prey by riding a motorbike. For a start, there are no roads, and the terrain is entirely unsuitable even for a dirt bike. Anyone who is serious about accessing the deep wilderness in Canada does so on horseback, or by float-plane. Even a helicopter is not ideal since it needs level open spaces to land. In the case of both horses and machines, you need fuel. Any prey you capture will not suffice for fuel, since horses are vegetarian (and for obvious reasons in the case of machines). A wolf can run in mixed terrain for long periods of time, going into fuel "deficit", and its prey constitutes its fuel. In any case, you wouldn't want to be trying to chase down your dinner on a horse (as nimble as they can be!). And neither a plane nor a helicopter is ideal as a method of hunting. By all means, you can do it. And of course we have the sheer power to just blanket bomb the entire forest and pick up whatever meat is left over. There is, after all, no question -- I assume -- about our sheer ability and power to kill; I'm bound to grant you that we're marvelously better at it than are wolves. In any case, your point about "outrunning" a wolf is valid only if you pit a human on a motorbike against a wolf in a drag race over level ground. (In a less silly vein, I grant, as I have indicated above, that we can overwhelm, overpower, and even "outrun" wolves by sheer ingenuity and our machinery if it really comes down to it. But wolves are wonderfully adapted to their environment in ways in which we are arguably not.)
As regards dolphin art: yes, you are right; I am, of course, not quite prepared to equate the dolphins' antics in the video with human art (although I doubt that much of the latter would mean anything at all to any creature other than a human). However, there is a curiosity here: many of the artists I know -- whether jazz musicians, painters, actors, etc. -- are not ever overly concerned (or even at all concerned) with "extended meaning", as you put it. Philosophers of art often point to such an idea as being important, but I must admit that I have yet to find an artist of almost any stripe who is primarily interested in the philosophy of art, or in "extended meaning", and so forth. Mostly, they are not even remotely interested in such things. They like making things. And often they predominantly like having fun. Time and again I see that one of the main motivators for the actual creativity involved in producing art is that the artists like having fun. And this, of course, is precisely what the dolphins are doing with their bubbles. That was my point.
As regards intelligence, I'd like to write a separate post on this topic. But a few words here: First, I don't think intelligence is the correct criterion according to which we should judge what is and isn't valuable (or at least morally valuable). For one thing, it would deny value to the following types of humans: infants, the senile, the mentally retarded. Also, it's entirely arbitrary. But aside from these issues, I'm interested in what we mean by "intelligence" in the first place. I know that some recent theories of intelligence allow for multiple different kinds of intelligence, even among humans. I think this is right. Howard Gardner, for instance, allows for at least eight types of intelligence: logical, linguistic, spatial, musical, kinesthetic, naturalist, intrapersonal and interpersonal. This is surely the right direction in which to go with regard to the issue of intelligence. Most of our tests for intelligence only measure the logical and linguistic sorts. For obvious reasons, then, philosophers tend to prioritize these sorts. However, I have known very *intelligent* philosophers, mathematicians, physicists, linguists, and so on, who have been miserably stupid in other areas, for example, both intra- and interpersonally. I've also known people who had high spatial and kinesthetic intelligence -- who are, for example, exceptionally good at field games such as soccer. They always *know* where to be, and they *read* the flow of the game, and so on. Many sports commentators refer to such athletes as "intelligent", and I think they are correct (though the athletes involved may perform poorly on standard IQ tests, for example). For myself, I was never very good at field games, even though I used to be quite athletic; I became aware early on that I was in some sense *stupid* at them. I never *knew* where to be, and could seldom *read* the flow of the game. The ball would be passed to where I was supposed to be, and I wouldn't be there. Likewise, a philosophy student (for example!) working at a skilled manual labouring job for the summer -- say, as a carpenter's helper -- may correctly be thought to be hopelessly *stupid* by carpenters when it comes to the practical intelligence required by that job. Indeed, I've often heard tradespeople bemoan the *stupidity* of their otherwise (at least supposedly) bright temporary employees. A carpenter will laugh and shake his or her head, wondering at the sheer *stupidity* of such supposedly *intelligent* people.
If there are really such different kinds of intelligence within the category "human", then I should think it hardly surprising that there are, or at least may be, different sorts of intelligence across species. Indeed, I would think it entirely plausible that there are radically different sorts of intelligence across even the species of which we are aware -- for instance, in dolphins. Incidentally, I think it is one of the virtues of White's using the EQ (encephalization quotient) measurement in attempting to give a comparative analysis of human and dolphin intelligence. EQ, according to White, is based on the relation of body weight to brain weight. We subtract the part of the brain needed to run the body, and what is left connotes more or less pure cognitive ability. EQ therefore presumably correlates with the capacity for cognitive and behavioural complexity in a species, and so it is convenient for making comparisons across species. And dolphins aren't far behind us in EQ.
Anyhow, you have already granted that you accept that non-human animals are intelligent. But you write: "I am still baffled at you, and even more so now you say you think dolphins have moral responsibilities."
But I did not claim this. I think dolphins are due moral consideration, in virtue of their being sentient creatures with highly developed self-interests, and so on. Depending on how we cash out what a "person" is, they may even be persons. However, in order for them to be morally responsible, they would either need to have certain abilities which they don't have, or they would need to have more of these abilities than they do have. A classic example would be the ability to be generally responsive to reasons (John Martin Fischer's criterion), or the ability to use practical reason.
Of course -- and here I admit to holding a view (which I defend adamantly) which not many others share -- I think that there are ways in which many of us think that we are morally responsible which no creature or being actually is morally responsible (dolphins and humans alike). So I would contend both that (a) humans and dolphins are more alike than we normally concede in terms of their being (not) morally responsible in this -- important -- respect; and (b) dolphins may be more responsive to reasons and have a higher capacity for using practical reason than we think.
However, I admit that I'm entering contentious territory here, especially with (b); so the burden of proof is on me to prove my case.
But I think that there is some support to be had. If you haven't read White's book in its entirety, I would certainly recommend that you do so. I don't have the space or time here to reproduce the many anecdotes and studies he cites, but many of them strongly support the notions that dolphins are able to represent the causal structure of their environment so as to be able to actually solve puzzles in complex situations, that they are able to operate in foreign cognitive environments, that they can solve problems by thinking in innovative ways, and that they display cognitive flexibility in problem solving; moreover, they have been known -- it would seem -- to actively seek human assistance in problem solving in the wild. They also understand and use artificial languages in novel ways.
In sum, dolphins display a surprising ability to reason their way to solutions, whether by reflecting on the contents of their consciousness, handling abstract notions in order to grasp the causal structure of their environment, or understanding a given problem well enough to be able to create original behaviours and strategies as a solution. I would be reluctant to attribute moral responsibility to dolphins quite yet, but I think the evidence White lays out is intriguing and certainly gives us pause.
For me, it provides an opportunity for what I have always valued most about philosophy, which is to reevaluate my assumptions.
Bernie R (not verified) on June 12th 2008
Hi Oisin,
It doesn't matter how much admiration of the beauty of wolves, dolphins etc you bring to bear, you are no nearer to bridging the gap between us and the other animals.
You're not doing either side justice. You're not being fair to the animals when you judge their value in terms of their utility to you, in a way they can't reciprocate. A hungry wolf can't decide not to eat you because it admires your beauty. You're not being fair to humans when you fail to acknowledge the nature and extent of the distinction between us and animals.
Our capacities are of a different order to theirs. Our decisions about how to treat them have to be taken in the knowledge that they can't make such decisions about how to treat us. It doesn't help animals or people to blur the distinction between us, it doesn't help a dolphin to call it a "person". It can't play the role of a person, we can't interact with it as we could with a person. Ascribing value to the animals on the basis of qualities they don't possess is storing up trouble for them. Denying (uniquely) human capacities like self-determination will lead to problems for both humans and animals.
The original question was about whether humans are the most important thing in the known world. We haven't said much about what "most important" means, but we humans are the only ones deciding what will happen, life or death and everything in between, to ourselves and to the others. The animals can't decide to do things like that, and we can. We find ourselves in a position where we are responsible for animals, and not vice versa. That sounds very like "most important" to me.
oisin on June 12th 2008
I guess I just think that non-human animals are more than we acknowledge, while we human animals are less than we tend to think -- I do think that we are a bit too self-important sometimes.
Or, in other words, non-human animals are more like us than we had previously thought, while human animals are less unlike non-human animals than we had thought.
Our (relatively) unique abilities may make us more powerful than non-human animals. But where is the connection between power and importance? More or less in line with the point Mark Rowlands was making, it seems to me that power, if that's the criterion we're focusing on, is just as arbitrary as any other criterion we might choose. Even allowing for the sort of difference between us and non-human animals that I'm willing to grant (i.e., a gap, but hardly an unbridgeable one), I just fail to see why those abilities we have that non-human animals lack, or which we have to a greater degree (if we do), make us more important. Why? How?
Maybe we're just the most self-important (i.e., conceited) thing in the universe after all. ;)
Bernie R (not verified) on June 13th 2008
You reveal what you believe is "important" when you say you think that non-human animals are "more" than we acknowledge. There's an implicit value scale there.
You then place us at the top of the value scale by equating "more" with "more like us".
Your own implicit value system is therefore based on the assumption that human abilities make us more important, or just "more".
Despite your protestations, you know perfectly well what the connection is between power and importance, they are almost synonymous in everyday use.
I continue to detect a quasi-religious flavour to your thinking. The elevation of the animals in their innocence, St Dolphin and St Wolf, man's essential sinfulness, impending doom. Notions like this are taught as "environmentalism" in schools, and environmentalism is taking on several of the former roles of religion.
When you say the gap between ourselves and the other animals is bridgeable, have you really thought how it could be bridged? If we left dolphins undisturbed, they could just go on indefinitely as they are. Or we could train them, but then we would just be using dolphins as machines, as extensions of ourselves, and they wouldn't be able to do the same to us, we would have moved the gap without bridging it.
I can't believe you are thinking about somehow giving dolphins the sort of intelligence we have, or them getting it independently, as realistic suggestions.
An alternative is that you really don't know what you have got, what human intelligence is and how it sets us apart. There's no such thing as "relatively unique", our abilities simply are unique in the known world. The animals always think and do the same things, and we can think of anything we like and do it, within the natural boundaries. Just think in detail about what you are doing now, connecting with my mind over thousands of miles using symbols, concepts and intricately patterned flows of energy, think about all the materials used, the engineering, all of that has come new out of human minds in the last few years.
oisin on June 13th 2008
Regarding your first point, you may have a point. Perhaps I "misspoke" (in that current buzzword). Or perhaps I should simply modify my claim to something more like the following: humans may be the most important thing in the known universe, but not by that much, or by as much as you think. I don't know. I'll have to think about it. Perhaps I should stick with something like Mark's incommensurability, rather than the implicit value scale you have apparently identified my using. I think my inclination is to say that I misspoke, or expressed myself poorly, and opt for some sort of incommensurability, but that isn't a worked out position. I certainly don't think I think we are more valuable than many other non-human animals.
To your second point: Power and importance are not (at all!) synonymous; I don't even think that they are synonymous in everyday usage (for all that would necessarily show!). I'm taking "importance" -- fairly uncontroversially, I would think -- to mean "valuable", perhaps even "morally valuable". I don't think that leaves us with a synonymity of "power" and "importance".
To your third point: To be honest, I continue to be surprised by your suggestions that I'm somehow "quasi-religious". What "credentials", exactly, do I have to show in order to disprove my (supposed) quasi-religiosity? Is there some card that "card-carrying" atheists carry which I should possess (to show on demand)? If so, then perhaps I should apply for one (I've no doubt I qualify). Ironically, it feels as though I'm being subjected to, well, an inquisition of sorts. ("Put him on the rack, and we'll expunge those [non-existent!] last strains of residual religiousness!") All of which is absurd. I'm the least religious person I know (which is saying something, I assure you).
I also think that "St. Dolphin" and "St. Wolf" are a little unfair; for another thing, I think it may leave you open to being charged with elevating human animals to "St. Human"; after all, if I'm (putatively) doing the one, then I can't really see how you're not doing the other.
And, as I suspected some time ago, our conversation is now bottoming out in radically different intuitions.
My whole point was that this isn't (or shouldn't be) necessary. They don't need what we have in order to be important -- even just as important as us.
You say that I really don't know what I've got(!).
I think I do know what I've got. If anything, I think you may be mistaken about what you (think) you have.
I can't help wondering whether you've spent that much (or any) time around non-human animals. I have. I've often noted that when I encounter views such as those you have expressed, the person expressing them hasn't spent much (if any) time around non-human animals at all. I think such people have a "merely theoretical" view, in some sense, of what non-human animals really are, and of their capabilities. Quite apart from the discussion we've had, I think this is an interesting observation. There is a way of valuing non-human animals -- i.e., of judging them to be important -- that can, it would seem, only occur in someone who has actually spent substantial amounts of time dealing with them, as I have. Nobody knows (in an important sense) what Mexico, say, is really like until they have visited it -- and the longer they spend there the better, in this regard. Likewise, no one really knows (in an important sense) what animals really are, until they have, say, worked with them. (This is probably something like a necessary condition, though clearly insufficient; one also needs to be at least somewhat reflective, have a suitable disposition, etc.)
There is a wonderful essay by Barbara Smuts, a professor of psychology and anthropology at the University of Michigan, in J.M Coetzee's book The Lives of Animals. In that essay, Smuts relates the story of her work with baboons and gorillas, and also the story of the relationship between herself and her dog, Safi. As Smuts writes, "Even the most avid pet-lovers generally operate within a narrow set of assumptions about what their animals are capable of, and what sort of relationship it is possible to have with them." Smuts admits that this was true of her, too, until her relationship with Safi. Smuts didn't "train" Safi, whom she rescued from a non-human animal shelter. Rather, she developed a relationship with the dog which, by Smuts' own account, amounted to "friendship". She regards Safi as a "person", and gives her "considerable autonomy", such that she "freely chooses aspects of how she will relate to me... As a result, she does things for me that I could never have imagined and certainly could never have 'trained' her to do." Smuts doesn't claim that every dog is likely to turn out this way; indeed, she thinks Safi "exceptional". However,
I think this is extremely wise advice.
Are you sure you know what you've got? Are you sure you know what they (i.e., non-human animals) have got?
Are you sure you know what you're missing, if you've never worked your way into the "lives of animals"?
Bernie R (not verified) on June 13th 2008
You question whether humans have what I think humans have, capacities that set us unbridgeably apart and make us in most aspects superior to the other animals. By coming here and asking this question you are demonstrating that you have such capacities yourself.
I'd like you to suggest some capacities that you think I think I have that you don't think I have.
I'm fascinated by the lives of animals, I don't know what reason I have given you to think otherwise. I have thought a lot about what it is like for different animals around me and elsewhere, in particular what kinds of thoughts they might have, and what the limits of those thoughts might be, and why. I think I am reasonably good, but not outstandingly good, at predicting and controlling animal behaviour.
I can direct my cat's movements by whistling.
You found what Barbara Smuts said was wise, I found it creepy and misguided.
Who is she to decide when the best is being brought out of an animal? What is her criterion for "the best"? It's being like a human, a person! She implicitly has a value system in which humans are most valuable. Of course she does, because a. she is a human and b. humans actually just are most valuable, because of our capacities, our achievements, our potential. See above.
Her dog is part animal, partly an extension of a human, it is a genetically modified wolf, bred by means of selection for traits we find useful or emotionally appealing. The dog has been bred to be friendly and to form a relationship which a human will find rewarding.
What would it mean to bring "the best" out of a wolf? Would it be best if the wolf killed and ate Barbara Smuts? If you think animals are as important as humans, why not?
oisin on June 16th 2008
First, dolphins can "see" one another's (or our) internal organs by means of echolocation, for example. I can't. (Yes, we have x-rays, etc., but it would be curmudgeonly to argue that this is the same thing -- such devices aren't "plugged into" our experiential awareness, they don't give us "qualia".) Yes, I can discuss things with you on the internet. A dolphin can't. But even if the gap were unbridgeable, as you say, it cuts both ways. I just can't see why we're more important. That's all. I really can't.
Second, what I meant to say was not that there are capacities you think you have that you don't have. I meant that, by thinking that you are (or I am, or anyone is) somehow more important than a dolphin, you thereby think that you are (or I am, or anyone is) more important than, in fact, you are (or I am, or anyone is). Humans are important. So are dolphins. Humans may (though not necessarily) be more important to other humans. Dolphins have interests, and so may value other dolphins (or goodness knows what else) over us.
Third, I'm glad you think so much about animals. I don't think there's anything particularly exceptional about manipulating animals (including human animals).
Fourth, I found Smuts' comments wise. Perhaps they are misguided in some way. I don't know. You think they're "creepy". I definitely don't. I think it's weird for anyone to find them creepy. You obviously don't.
Fifth, I don't think Smuts' criterion for "best" is "being like a human". Just as there are things which are conducive to human flourishing, I think that there are things which are conducive to other animals' flourishing. I don't think (a) that one has to have an implicit value system that automatically values humans more than anything else, just because one is a human -- e.g., I don't; or (b) that humans are somehow obliged to have a value system that values humans more than anything else because, as you say, "humans actually just are most valuable"; I think I've made this clear, just as you've made your own position clear.
Sixth, I don't think of animals as "extensions" of human beings, any more than I think of other human beings as extensions of human beings, i.e., any more than I think of a shop assistant, for example, as an extension of me just because s/he gets something off the shelf when I ask her/him.
Seventh, yes, it could conceivably be the "best" for the wolf to eat Smuts, or me, or you. (However, wolves in North America are not, to my knowledge, ever known to have killed and eaten any human being; perhaps there have been rare cases about which I've not heard; in any case, it's beside the point.) I have no problem whatsoever with it's being conceivably the "best" for a wolf to eat me. I'm surprised if you thought otherwise.
We clearly disagree. That may be about all that there is to say at this point.
See also here.
Bernie R (not verified) on July 09th 2008
Hello again Oisin,
You wrote:
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"First, dolphins can "see" one another's (or our) internal organs by means of echolocation, for example. I can't. (Yes, we have x-rays, etc., but it would be curmudgeonly to argue that this is the same thing -- such devices aren't "plugged into" our experiential awareness, they don't give us "qualia".)"
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Dolphins can't "see" our internal organs. They can identify differences in density in items hidden from view below a surface, they use this ability to find fish under the sand for example. They could presumably identify different densities in different areas of our bodies, but they could not pick out any feature as an "organ", they do not have the required conceptual abilities.
You however can "see" and also see our internal organs, or theirs. There is nothing "curmudgeonly" in pointing out that we have made devices to allow us to "see" inside our own bodies! It's an excellent example of what we are and what we do that makes us superior to the other animals.
We do get visual qualia from X-rays, and you can also "see" another person's heart by putting your ear to their chest or feeling their wrist. That is as much (or as little) a visual experience as the dolphin has with echolocation. But you can do so much more. You know that it is a heart doing that, you know something about how it functions, you probably know some methods for restarting someone's heart if it stopped. Between us we know a fantastic amount about the heart and the other organs, we are on the verge of making practical artificial hearts, livers, kidneys, eyes. I've seen X-rays of my body, and seen how they were used in carrying out successful medical treatment.
This pattern would be repeated in every field of activity. Whatever animal ability you identify, we are able to replicate it if we wish and then go on to do an infinite number of other things at levels of complexity unreachably beyond any other mind.
It would be curmudgeonly to claim not to be able to see the ample justification for regarding humans as superior to or "more important than" other animals.