Phew, that was a long title. My fingers are tired from typing it all out. Are we smart enough to make concise titles? Often but not always! Snarking aside, Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are (affiliate link: Book Depository) is a wonderfully accessible overview of studies of animal cognition.
de Waal’s basic argument is that as humans get better at designing tests that take into account animal physiognomy, habits, and social structure, animals perform better on those tests. The most common limitation on tests of animal cognition is not animal, but human, intelligence. An example:
When octopuses were given a transparent jar that contained a live crawfish1, they failed to do anything. This greatly puzzled the scientists, because the delicacy was clearly visible and moving about. . . it turned out to be one of those human misjudgments. Despite having excellent eyes, octopuses rarely rely on vision to catch prey. . . . As soon as the jar was smeared on the outside with herring “slime,” making it taste like fish, the octopus swung into action and started manipulating it until the top came off.
In other news, octopuses can open jars. I hope that in the new world order our octopus overlords will remember that I ate no octopus in my life and left the dissecting of them to my lab partner.
If you’re interested at all in the way animals think, de Waal’s book is a thoughtful and accessible primer to zoopsychology. As well as featuring plenty of anecdotes that will make you go “holy shit why are animals so smart” — including this thing about chimpanzees assembling mini-tool kits to accomplish complex tasks — he continually reminds the reader of the limitations on what we’re able to know about animal brains.
Maybe my favorite thing about this book is de Waal’s indictment of the constantly shifting goalposts for what differentiates humans from the rest of the animal world. In de Waal’s mind, the answer to this question is not much, but many people are anxious to find something that sets us apart from the animals. The problem is that as soon as we locate a line of demarcation (tool use, cooperation, advance planning), we find that apes will cross it, given the right circumstances. And once we’ve found apes that cross the line, scientists of other animals — ones as simple as fishies! — will do more tests and discover examples of those animals that also cross the line. And then we are back at the beginning.
Personally, I find it rather peaceful not to be all that different from the rest of the animal kingdom. This way, when global warming wipes out the species and Earth has to start over from scratch, it won’t be so much of a tragedy: Just one animal species going extinct to make room for the next.
Thanks to Malcolm Avenue Review for the nudge to read this one!
Here’s my question: What do you think separates humans from the rest of the animal kingdom? If anything! Oh, and also, how do you feel about octopuses? Are you fine with invertebrates being as smart as freaky octopuses are? Do you have concerns about them ultimately taking over everything?
- Full disclosure, the book says “crayfish,” but I can’t with that nonsense. ↩