In the 1970s a former Soviet naval officer named Igor Charkovsky popularised a concept which came to be known as dolphin-assisted birth. Likely inspired by New Age theories, he urged expectant mothers to dip in the ice-cold water of the Black Sea, commune with dolphins, and give birth underwater. In the \u201cvery near future,\u201d he claimed, \u201ca newborn child would be able to live in the ocean with a pod of dolphins and feed on dolphin milk\u201d.<\/p>\n
The oddest thing about Charkovsky was not so much his theory, but its remarkable resilience within both Soviet and western culture, as Justin Gregg sets out in his illuminating and\u00a0lively new book. Gregg\u2019s work is both a\u00a0dissection and an ode to the irresistible allure of anthropomorphism, our\u00a0tendency to apply human characteristics to non-humans, whether animals, objects, AI, or God. An expert on animal cognition who also teaches improv, Gregg deftly guides us through our alternately charming, destructive and wrong-headed fantasies about everything from marine mammals to our iPhones.<\/p>\n
A guiding spirit of this book is 17th-century philosopher Francis Bacon: \u201cHuman understanding,\u201d he wrote, \u201cis like a false mirror which receives light irregularly, then distorts and discolours the nature of things by mingling its own nature with it.\u201d And how distorted and discoloured is this mirror, less faithful reflection of a dolphin, dog or computer, than a warped looking-glass at a carnival.<\/p>\n
Anthropomorphism has long been a\u00a0dirty word amongst those who study animal behaviour, but Gregg sees it as a positive force<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Gregg introduces us to dog owners who insert \u201cneuticles\u201d, prosthetic testicular implants, into their neutered pet to relieve them of the shame of castration. This is a purely Freudian drama; the UK\u2019s Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons\u2019 line is that silicone implants offer no benefit to a\u00a0dog whatsoever. I scoffed at these passages, until Gregg moved on to our assumptions about cats, where I have more skin in the game. So enmeshed is\u00a0my own cat within my family\u2019s psychodrama that Gregg\u2019s gentle questioning of the realities of feline cognition left me unmoored. We are all, one way or another, clinging to the anthropomorphism game, imagining our pets\u2019 inner thoughts, naming our cars, gendering God; if Charkovsky was deranged, it was only a question of\u00a0degree.<\/p>\n
Anthropomorphism has long been a\u00a0dirty word among those who study animal behaviour, but Gregg sees it as a positive force if used reflectively. The\u00a0late primatologist Jane Goodall, for instance, urged its judicious use. \u201cJust because you feel that an animal has a humanlike characteristic you cannot assume that is the case,\u201d she argued. \u201cIntuition alone is not enough \u2013 but it\u00a0is a wonderful basis for further questioning, testing, and ultimately proving yourself right or wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n
Some of Gregg\u2019s case studies point in the other direction, showing how our projections cause catastrophe. In\u00a01977, Nippon Animation released Rascal Racoon, an anime TV series that depicted a young boy\u2019s idealised relationship with a raccoon in the American midwest. The series prompted the Japanese to import thousands of raccoons as pets, not knowing that adults can bite and, when\u00a0bored, will easily tear up a small flat. Nearly 50 years on, there are few raccoon pets left, but many living in the countryside, feasting freely on native species like salamanders and crayfish.<\/p>\n
I valued this book most when it touched on Gregg\u2019s area of expertise, non-human cognition. His stories repeatedly surprised and enlightened me, overturning my assumptions about other species, particularly reptiles. He cites research into crocodilians which demonstrates their capacity for play and social relationships; through subtle shifts in perspective and focus one could reimagine these staple villains of wildlife documentaries as playful, albeit from the safety of dry land.<\/p>\n
When in doubt as to whether a\u00a0non-human animal possesses consciousness, Gregg urges a kind of\u00a0Pascalian logic: better to assume a\u00a0spider can feel suffering rather than\u00a0deny it and risk harm. He draws a\u00a0firm firm line between animals and the large language models that power tools like\u00a0ChatGPT \u2013 the latter cannot\u00a0be said to\u00a0possess anything resembling\u00a0consciousness, which is\u00a0biologically\u00a0rooted. (Given this position, I might gently question his repeated use of \u201chard wired\u201d in relation to the human brain; as Siri Hustvedt has noted, such metaphors do not help us understand how our minds are different from machines.)<\/p>\n
It\u2019s a strange irony that, as we discover more about the workings of other minds, our tendency to cast our dreams on to them does not diminish. For Gregg, anthropomorphism is a\u00a0function of separation (it makes little\u00a0sense, he argues, to invoke anthropomorphism in relation to some\u00a0indigenous cultures where wild animals and humans are regarded as being of the same blood). If separation can be measured by the diminishment of wild species, or the hours we spend online and alone, then truly ours is the age of anthropomorphism. Charkovsky has not yet had his day in the sun.<\/p>\n