| Publisher | Free Press; 1ST edition (October 13, 1998) |
|---|---|
| Language | English |
| Hardcover | 256 pages |
| ISBN-10 | 0684837102 |
| ISBN-13 | 978-0684837109 |
| Item Weight | 0.035 ounces |
| Dimensions | 6.5 x 0.75 x 9.75 inches |
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If a Lion Could Talk: Animal Intelligence and the Evolution of Consciousness Hardcover – October 13, 1998
| Stephen Budiansky (Author) Find all the books, read about the author, and more. See search results for this author |
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- Print length256 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherFree Press
- Publication dateOctober 13, 1998
- Dimensions6.5 x 0.75 x 9.75 inches
- ISBN-100684837102
- ISBN-13978-0684837109
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The book shows how the most basic principle of evolution--that all living things are related--has been misconstrued by well-meaning scientists to imply that all animals possess intelligence that differs from ours only in quantity. This leads to comparisons of near-equivalence between such intuitively likely pairs as adult gorillas and human children, comparisons that Budiansky suggests are misleading and more descriptive of our own minds than those of our distant cousins. What evolution should be telling us, he says, is that each species is equally well suited to its niche and should be examined for what it is, not how similar or different it is from us. How is it that chimpanzees can perform such remarkable problem-solving without language?
If a Lion Could Talk will not make anyone lose interest in animal minds, for that is not its intention. If anything, it inspires a real sense of admiration for the billions of living things that make it through each day despite the seemingly terrible handicap of not being human. Budiansky tells us that if we want to learn about our planet-mates, we have a lot of unlearning to do. Luckily for us he is gracious enough to provide an introductory unlesson. --Rob Lightner
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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The question almost everyone asks when the matter of animal minds comes up is: How smart are they? It is a question that occupied early researchers, too, at the dawn of experimental comparative psychology a century ago. Because intelligence seemed to be a quantifiable, testable parameter, studying an animal's performance on problem-solving tasks seemed the most promising avenue to exploring their mental processes.
Ranking species according to their relative intelligence fit in well, too, with many popular -- though often terribly distorted -- conceptions about Darwin's theory that were current in the late nineteenth century, and which have not yet altogether vanished. One of the most enduring misperceptions about evolution is that life represents a sort of chain of progress from inferior to superior forms. A particularly muddled version of this embodies the additional notion that progress up the chain of evolutionary advancement corresponds to the steps that the most advanced forms of life (i.e., humans) follow in the course of development from infancy to adulthood. This theory that "ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny" has no credence whatsoever in modern biology. Yet it still pops up regularly, and certainly most people tend to think about evolution in these terms, as a stepladder along which species can be ranked as higher or lower.
George Romanes, the great nineteenth-century collector of animal anecdotes, constructed an elaborate chart of the relative rankings of animals' stages of "mental development" that is a paradigm of this sort of thinking. To make the picture of a stepladder of mental ranks even neater, he equated each step with a corresponding age of mental development in humans. Thus a portion of his ranking chart looked like this, with the rank number in the first column and the corresponding stage of human development in the last:
28. Indefinite morality. -- Anthropoid Apes and Dog. -- 15 months.
27. Use of tools. -- Monkeys, Cat, and Elephant. -- 12 months.
26. Understanding of mechanisms. -- Carnivores, Rodents, and Ruminants. -- 10 months.
25. Recognition of pictures, Understanding of words, Dreaming. -- Birds. -- 8 months.
24. Communication of ideas. -- Hymenoptera. [Bees, Ants] -- 5 months.
23. Recognition of persons. -- Reptiles and Cephalopods. -- 15 months.
22. Reason. -- Higher Crustaceans. -- 14 months.
21. Association by similarity. -- Fish. -- 14 weeks.
18. Primary instincts. -- Larvae of Insects. -- 3 weeks.
17. Memory. -- Echinodermata [Starfish, etc.] -- 1 weeks.
7. Non-nervous adjustments. -- Unicellular organisms. -- Embryo.
3. Protoplasmic movements. -- Protoplasmic organisms. -- Ovum and Spermatozoa.
ANIMAL IQ
There are two basic flaws with this approach. One is the fundamental notion that some species are more highly "evolved" than others. We might naturally think of monkeys occupying a position higher on the phylogenetic scale than cats, and cats higher than rats. Yet the fact is that primates, carnivores, and rodents all diverged from a common ancestor at the same time. They are all equally "evolved." The branching tree of evolution has not just one culmination, but millions of culminations -- represented in every living species on earth today. Each is a brilliant success at what it does. The idea that fish, now stuck at level 21, are trying with all their might to ascend to level 22 is, from an evolutionary point of view, nonsense. Fish are adapted by virtue of millions of years of evolution to their particular, special evolutionary niche. They have had just as long to evolve as we have. It is not as if they are mere instances of incomplete evolution, the culmination of which is man (or Nordic man, perhaps).
The other problem is the implicit assumption that intelligence is something that can be measured on a linear scale -- and a scale where humans equal 100. Of course, by explicitly defining his stages of mental evolution in the animal kingdom in terms of the stages of mental development in human infants, Romanes was bound to end up with a purely anthropocentric definition for his rankings of intelligence. The "Properties of Intellectual Development" he those to list (morality, use of tools, recognition of persons, etc.) all have a distinctly self-centered air about them. How would one fit the navigational abilities of pigeons or the web weaving of spiders or the nest building of bowerbirds or the food caching of nutcrackers into Romanes's scheme? One wouldn't.
Some modern attempts to define intelligence in universal terms do not fare much better. Most common definitions of intelligence emphasize flexibility, creativity, and recognition of underlying patterns and overarching concepts. Some researchers, such as Steven Pinker of M.I.T., define intelligence in a more restrictive way that would seem to rule animals out of the running altogether: Pinker says intelligence is an ability to figure out how things work in order to overcome obstacles.
But animals, which as we shall see do not show any notable ability to figure out how things truly work, nonetheless show great facility at accomplishing things by acting on information they receive from the environment. They make decisions that are flexible and often appropriate. Unconsciously operating algorithms in the animal mind (ours included) produce what we would not hesitate to call intelligence were we to see a robot do it. Coordinating the movement of four legs over uneven ground while avoiding obstacles is a sophisticated computational task. We do not normally think of such automatic tasks as part of "intelligence" but why not? From a purely computational viewpoint, the sort of unconscious thought that permits an animal to recognize a predator and take evasive action could certainly involve far more brain power than distinguishing a group of three items from a group of four items. Is the former just dumb reflex and only the latter intelligence?
Another huge problem in attempting an honest, "zero-based" assessment of animal intelligence is the bias and assumptions built into the many tests that have been devised to measure it. Intelligence tests for humans have long been criticized for being culturally biased. Many of the early IQ tests used in the United States in particular suffered from this fault; they claimed to measure "native intelligence," but included questions that really measured nothing so much as familiarity with the middle-class American culture of the middle-class American psychologists who devised the tests. For example, tests given to Army recruits in World War I featured such questions as, "Washington is to Adams as first is to..." Other questions required the examinees to draw in missing parts on a series of pictures -- a stamp on an addressed envelope, a net on a tennis court, a filament in an electric light bulb, a horn on a wind-up phonograph, a trigger on a pistol, strings on a violin. Not surprisingly, many recent immigrants to America did not score very highly on the exam and were rated as "morons" or "feebleminded." Probably not very many of them played tennis, either.
But differences between human cultures pale in comparison to differences between animal species. Animals differ in temperament, perceptual abilities, motivation, social behavior, all of which affect their performance on tests we might devise for them.
WHO'S SMARTER: THE SHEEPDOG OR THE SHEEP?
Sheep have a reputation for being dumb. Border collies have a reputation for being smart. But both of these impressions may say more about our underlying prejudice than their underlying intelligence.
Much of what impresses us about dogs, after all, is their obedience to us. To put it in a slightly cynical fashion, we say a dog or a horse is smart when it does what we want it to. But many disobedient
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Stephen Budiansky is a historian, biographer, and journalist, the author of 18 books exploring intellectual and creative lives, military and intelligence history, and science and the natural world. He is the former Washington Editor of the scientific journal Nature and a regular book reviewer for the Wall Street Journal. He lives on a small farm in northern Virginia.
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The title of the book comes from the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein: "If a lion could talk, we would not understand him." And Budiansky, in a careful survey of a wide range of research, shows how far we are from understanding the thinking of other animals--how anthropomorphic assumptions infect our testing of them in the lab, how human logic influences our observations of them in the field, how sentimental emotions govern our treatment of them in the home. Parsing out the differences, he advances the provocative hypothesis that all animals have basically the same intelligence working to satisfy their needs, only working through different anatomies and modalities, and so appearing unequal to us. The horse, the pigeon and the fish do equally well with what they've got---hoof, wing and fin; they eat, mate and get around with equal skill. We tend to rate their intelligence not by their performance in their own domain, but by how well they respond to us, or how human their actions appear. We set up IQ tests for them that favor human attributes: visual acuity, manual dexterity and problem solving with geometrical shapes. Or we teach them varieties of sign language, which feed back our own symbols to us and may mean nothing to them.
Ultimately, no matter how refined the experiment, it seems impossible to get beyond the wall separating animals and man, chiefly because they do not speak and every experiment devised by man inserts the human element. A sort of biological uncertainty principle emerges in which the experimenter foils the experiment. Budiansky is left imagining that we are most like other species when we are performing but not talking to ourselves, enjoying the zen-state so desperately sought by hyper-conscious man. Animals, he concludes, have their own ways, their own dignity and beauty. (I saw no bashing of animal rights claimed by other reviewers.) He moves perhaps into a realm of philosophy, leaving the reader bereft of easy assumptions. You will see the world of nature in a new way after reading this scintillating work.
Post scriptum. Although Budiansky does not explore the issue, his study has devastating implications for both scientists and Trekkies hoping to make contact with aliens. If ever we were to discover extraterrestrials, our approach to them inevitably would embody the same human preconceptions. Even if they were close to us anatomically, the prospect of finding common ground for communication is scant. The DNA of a chimpanzee differs from that of a man by only a couple of percentage points, yet the main thing we have been able to learn from our closest kin is that they want another banana.
The reason the subject is so slippery is that an adequate definition of both intelligence and consciousness is lacking. The reason the book is contentious naturally follows from this, but additionally Budiansky seems to have an agenda or, call it a thesis. He writes: "Consciousness is a wonderful gift and a wonderful curse that, all the evidence suggests, is not in the realm of the sentient experiences of other creatures." (p. 194)
How true or not his statement may be really depends on the definition of consciousness. Unfortunately Budiansky does not give one, and so all his conclusions about the differences in consciousness between humans and other creatures are murky at best. The closest he comes to a definition is on page 193 where he asserts that "...language is so intimately tied to consciousness that the two seem inseparable." Using this "definition" it is only a matter of demonstrating that animals do not have language in order to demonstrate that they don't have consciousness.
However even in this I don't think Budiansky is successful. Much of the book is given over to showing how so many experiments using chimps and monkeys, pigeons and dogs, etc., that seem to demonstrate that language use by animals is just signaling. This position is well known. The argument is that humans are the only animals with grammatical, syntactical and symbolic ability built into their brains. Other animals cannot construct sentences because they have no syntax. They have no "theory of mind" because they cannot think symbolically.
But this is not proven, as Budiansky acknowledges. What is obvious is that whatever language ability other animals have is rudimentary compared to that of humans. And almost everyone would agree that the consciousness demonstrated by animals varies considerably. By the way, here's a quick definition of consciousness: awareness, identify, and self-awareness. A lot of confusion results because when people talk about consciousness, one person may have in mind "awareness," while another may be talking about "self-awareness" only, or about "self-identity." Awareness includes past, present and future events, and places here and elsewhere. We are very good at all of this, whereas other creatures are apparently not so good at anything other than the here and now. Because of our extended awareness, people like Budiansky are persuaded that we are on a consciousness level above other animals that should be recognized as different in kind.
Notice, by the way, that the idea that consciousness depends on language is by this definition obviously false. Sentient beings can be aware of many things without using language. Also there are different kinds of languages. Budiansky is talking about the kind of language that linguists study, the kind of language that Norm Chomsky analyzed to come up with his discovery that syntax is innate. But mathematics is a language, and when mathematicians are thinking about equations, they are conscious to the same extent that I am when I am thinking about how to put an idea into a sentence. Ditto for chess players and musicians. The languages that humans use are of one kind. We do not yet understand the languages the whales and dolphins speak.
What I don't like about Budiansky's insistence on a difference in kind is that when you stop to think about it, such a difference would be surprising since all life forms on this planet as far as we know evolved from a single ancient ancestor--unless of course you believe in a divine and separate creation.
Some other points at issue:
Budiansky wants to debunk the idea that animals are "worthy of special consideration" because their "behavior resembles" that of humans (see, e.g., p. xiii). I agree. We should appreciate other living things for what they are and not for how much they resemble us.
Consider the example of a chimpanzee holding out her hand to another in an appeasement gesture only to attack the other when he got near. Budiansky writes that a "theory of mind" interpretation would be that the tricky female knew the male would be misled in approaching and took advantage. But the "behaviorist spoilsport" interpretation is that the female had done this in the past and it worked and so did it again without recourse to reading the other's mind. (p. 182) This example illustrates just how difficult it is to say what is going on in another's mind. Personally I think the notion of a "theory of mind" should stay in the philosophy department.
One of the things that Budiansky makes clear is why some animals cry out when a predator appears. (See Chapter 6, "Speak!") Such calls seem altruistic to the point of being impossible from an evolutionary perspective; however Budiansky shows that such cries actually help the crier because their pitch either fools the attacking hawk so that it looks in the wrong direction, or the calls bring out other victims who go running about, thereby confusing the attacker or giving the attacker targets other than the crier.
Another nice thing that Budiansky does is show in sharp detail that the language accomplishments of chimpanzees and gorillas in some famous studies reveal not so much a human-like ability, but demonstrate the great gulf that exists between our use of language and theirs, which is not the kind of truth some people want to read.
