Do Animals Think?
Do Animals Reckon? Books
Product Description
Does your dog know when you’ve had a terrible day? Can your cat tell that the coffee pot you left on might start a fire? May possibly a chimpanzee be trained to program your computer? In this provocative book, noted animal expert Clive Wynne debunks some commonly held notions about our furry friends. It may be romantic to ascribe human qualities to critters, he argues, but it’s not very realistic. Even as animals are by no means dumb, they don’t reckon the same way we do. Contrary to what many well loved television shows would have us judge, animals have neither the “theory-of-mind” capabilities that humans have (that is, they are not conscious of what others are thought) nor the capacity for higher-level reasoning. So, in Wynne’s view, when Fido greets your arrival by nudging your leg, he’s more apt to be asking for dinner than commiserating with your job stress.
That’s not to say that animals don’t possess remarkable abilities–and Do Animals Reckon? explores countless examples: there’s the honeybee, which not only remembers where it found food but communicates this in rank to its hivemates through an elaborate dance. And how about the sonar-guided bat, which locates flying insects in the dark of night and devours lunch on the wing?
Engagingly written, Do Animals Reckon? takes aim at the work of such celebrated animal rights advocates as Peter Singer and Jane Goodall for falsely humanizing animals. Far from impoverishing our view of the animal kingdom, but, it underscores how the world is richer for having such a diversity of minds–be they of the animal or human variety.
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This is an extremely well written book. Wynne has an exceptionally clear style and the book is full of wit and humour. At the same time, Wynne has a very excellent grasp of these complex issues. On the one hand, he clarifies quite perfectly which impressive perceptual and cognitive capabilities different animal species have. On the other hand, the author demonstrates very clearly that there really is a gap between humans and other animals, and that the latter simply do not possess language, self-consciousness or theory of mind. Most of the prevailing myths about animal cognition are dispelled in this book. That is what makes this such an vital volume, as most of the well loved books on the minds of animals seem to want to spread these myths. Rather than dishing out just so tales about the evolution of cognition, or appearance up with fashionable manifestos on the future of mankind, Wynne is sticking to the facts and provides a thorough analysis of extant data. This impressive book is a terribly needed breath of fresh air in a theme area that is dominated by woolly idealism. I urge it strongly.
Rating: 5 / 5
I looked forward to reading this book and was so disappointed with it. I found the author’s attitude to be quite narrowminded. I was particularly offended by his comments on whether animals feel pain or not, and his argument that for the greater excellent it was OK to continue with animal experimentation left me feeling nothing but distate for his thoughts.
Rating: 1 / 5
Do animals reckon? Well, surely some do, you may reckon. And an increasing
number of researchers across disciplines would agree with you: They are
trying to determine hownot whetheranimals consciously administer in rank
about their social and nonsocial environments.
What is going on in the minds of animals? Do they have desires and
beliefs? Zealots abound at both ends of a spectrum that ranges from those
who judge that animals are merely thoughtless robotic automatons to
those who argue that all are thought creatures with rich cognitive lives.
I presume that the truth lies somewhere in the middle: A number of animals
have the capacity for thought about certain situations and showing
bendable, bendable behavior, even as others may behave reflexively, with
small or no plotting at all.
Psychologist Clive D. L. Wynne takes a firm behaviorist stance on the
come forth in his new book, Do Animals Reckon? He argues that animals, even
those commonly believed to have active minds and a excellent deal of conscious
thoughtcompanion animals, dolphins and fantastic apesreally don’t reckon much
about anything. Here, and also in a brief communication and an essay
published in the March 11 and April 8 issues of Nature, Wynne says that we
should be very cautious about ascribing consciousness to animals and that
anthropomorphic explanations have no place in the study of animal
behavior.
I should confess aptly away that I’m a member of the opposing campa rich
cognitivist. Thus I was skeptical of Wynne’s position from the outset. But
I was also open to his arguments. And I did find some of the in rank
he presents about bees, bats and other animals to be both fascinating and
thoughtprovoking.
Unfortunately, Wynne’s adversarial tone and narrow choice of data made
this book a trying read for me. Throughout he takes potshots at
wellknown scientists, philosophers and advocates of animal protection:
Roger Fouts especially, and also the late Donald Griffin, Sue
SavageRumbaugh, Frans de Waal, Jane Goodall, Peter Singer, Steven Wise and
even Linda McCartney. Wynne criticizes them for using questionable
in rank about animal sentience to support the view that we should be
deeply concerned with animal wellbeing. The book opens with an account of
violence hostile to humans by a member of the Animal Liberation Front, and it
ends on a similar note, with Wynne criticizing animal protectionists for
flawed thought. He claims that he longs for the certainty of those who
attribute consciousness and the ability to experience pain to many
animals. But in fact, he advocates the opposite top of view with that
same level of certainty.
Although Wynne admits that we do not know very much about animal thought,
this does not stop him from arguing that his reductionist views are
right. He believes that the differences between animals and humans are
greater, and more significant, than the similarities. But are they? Does
Wynne include all animals or only some species in his arguments for mental
dissimilarity? He claims that
The psychological abilities that make human culture possibleenthusiasm to
imitate others, language, and the ability to place oneself imaginatively
into another’s perspective on eventsare nearly entirely gone in any
other species.
What does “nearly” mean? Nobody claims that other animals are like peas in a pod to
us, but arguments invoking evolutionary continuity place room for the
conclusion that the differences are, in fact, smalldifferences in degree
rather than differences in kind. Many observations show that members of
some species imitate other animals, empathize with them, are able to take
another’s perspective in certain situations (there is neurobiological
evidence to support the conclusion that some animals have a theory of
mind), and have culture and rather sophisticated patterns of
communication.
The behaviorist view is small concerned with evolution. It also fails to
recognize that the behavior of many animals is far too bendable and
situationspecific to be clarified in terms of simplified stimulusresponse
contingencies. Marked withinspecies variability is quite common, and this
adaptive variability often (although not everlastingly) lends itself readily to
“cognitive” explanations invoking consciousness, intentions and beliefs.
It remains to be shown how large the differences are between humans and
other animals. Although Wynne claims to recognize that not enough data are
available to make definitive statements, he offers them nonetheless,
arriving at some sweeping generalizations. He argues for the objective
study of behavior, butironicallymuch of his book serves to illustrate that
science isn’t valuefree and that every scientist has an agenda.
Scientists who are skeptical about research on animal thought typically
criticize it for being anecdotal and anthropomorphic. They claim that
anecdotes don’t provide sufficient data (a view with which I and other
rich cognitivists generally agree) and that anthropomorphic explanations
are extremely hazy. Wynne preferential treatment reductionistic stimulusresponse
explanations over ones that fascinate to such notions as consciousness,
intentions and beliefs. But, he doesn’t offer any scientific support
for his position. And in fact there is no empirical evidence that the
explanations he preferential treatment are better for understanding and predicting
behavior than those he eschews.
Many who, like Wynne, act of kindness mechanistic explanations have not spent much
time watching freeranging animals. Were they to do so, the complexity and
flexibility of animal behavior would force them to realize that no simple
explanatory scheme will be right all of the time. What is more, they
would appreciate better how much more there still is to learn about animal
behavior.
Nearly daily, surprising new findings crop up: New Caledonian crows are
better at making and using tools than many primates; fish show culture and
likely feel pain; a dog named Rico knows about 200 words and can figure
out, through exclusion learning, that an unfamiliar sound refers to an
unfamiliar toy. So it’s best to keep an open mind. The fact that an animal
doesn’t do something in one context doesn’t necessarily mean that it won’t
be able to do it in another.
Returning at the end of the book to the theme of his opening pages, Wynne
expresses heavy disbelief about whether animals feel pain and whether
that should influence how we handle them. On the one hand, he praises
philosopher Jeremy Bentham’s claim that the key question for determining
the moral and legal standing of animals is “Can they suffer?”not “Can they
reason?” or “Can they talk?” But on the other hand, Wynne notes that even
if we may possibly measure pain in animals, “it is still not clear that this
would tell us what to do and to whom.” Feeling pain is not, in his view,
the only criterion for deciding whether animals are worthy of our concern.
He says, revealingly, that animals “are valuable to us because of who we
are, not what they are.”
Unfortunately, a fantastic divide remains between opposing camps. The
polemical tone and lack of balance in the book make it trying for me to
urge it as a text for a course unless it’s read alongside a book that
presents a variety of views on animal thought. And inconsistencies in the
argumentation make it hard for me to urge it for a general audience.
I do reckon that the book will serve to stimulate discussion of such issues
as what it means to “know” something, how much in rank must be
available before we can draw reliable, sweeping conclusions, and how we
determine how certain we can be that those conclusions are right.
Studies of animal thought lend themselves nicely to that philosophical
exercise.
Rating: 1 / 5
First of all, this is not the author’s best book. His best book is a slim, concise textbook called Animal Cognition. I must admit the author is an brilliant novelist. His thoughts are clearly expressed without academic jargon. His textbook on animal intelligence is probably the most readable textbook on this theme on the market. But, his analysis is dreadful. For example, as regards the mark mirror recognition test on chimps, he argues that mirror recogntion does not indicate self-awareness, because one may possibly presume a robot being programed to identify itself in a mirror?? What a stupid remark! His critique of mirror recognition in dolphins is equally pathetic. He says nothing about positive consequences (disputed consequences, but) from research on birds, dogs and pigs. This scholar has been known to admit that he has a bias hostile to the whole notion of animal intelligence. In other words, he is a confessing speciesist. His interpretation of signs of self-awareness in other animals is that they have an “own-body concept.” I see this as a clear dodge, and in fact I see the whole book in this light. What you have here is a conservative apologetic for speciesism. You will notice how aggravated the author is at the concept of apes and humans being genetically near like peas in a pod. He really attempts to argue that this universally accepted conclusion is incorrect. In small, I find this scientist to be oddly cynical and narrow-minded. His work is hyper-critical and selective. He is basically avoiding the best research, and what he focuses on he focuses on with an eye towards shreding it to bits.
Chapter 9, the final chapter, may be the most disturbing part of the entire book. Here you see a scientist deliberating about whether animals experience pain, and you are left with the impression that he really does not reckon they do, or at least has his doubts. I want to provide you with some very unfortunate quotes as a way of illustrating the author’s attitude:
“Let me question again, How do we know animals feel pain? chorus resolution, the standard resolution, is because they act the way we do when we feel pain. Our dog Benji … walked into the side of a parked car once … Didn’t seem to bother him at all.” P.240
In other words an animal’s corporal reactions don’t necessarily represent the experience of the animal. Here is another excellent one on the same top:
“When organs are indifferent from the brain dead … doctors commonly give anesthetics. Why bother with anesthetics if there is no opportunity that the individual is conscious? Because without them the body reacts violently … So this adds a further complication to the calculus of pain that Singer wants us to engage in: outward signs may correlate small with inner agonies.” P.240
Please see my review of Dr. Wynne’s Animal Cognition.
I want to urge some better books (all very readable) on this theme:
Animal Learning & Cognition 3rd Ed by John Pearce
Animal Intelligence by Zhanna Reznikova
The Cognitive Animal (multiple authors)
The Smartest Animals On The Earth (written for non-science students) by Sally Boysen
Cognition, Evolution & Behavior by Sara Shettleworth
Also worth reading:
The Ethology of Domestic Animals 2nd Ed by P. Jensen
Rating: 1 / 5
I wrote the letter (below) in answer to Marc Bekoff’s American Scientist (AS) review of Clive Wynne’s very informative and well written book. Professor Bekoff was given an opportunity by the editors of AS to answer to my letter but he declined. Let me just add a few additional comments evoked by Bekoff’s comments on this site.
Bekoff writes that “Many observations show that members of some species imitate other animals, empathize with them, are able to take another’s perspective in certain situations (there is neurobiological evidence to support the conclusion that some animals have a theory of mind), and have culture and rather sophisticated patterns of communication.”
But by using words like “empathize,” and, I would argue, even “reckon,” Bekoff implies that when nonhumans do something that we describe as “empathizing” (or “thought”), it is the same as when we use the word to describe human behavior. But that is a mistake. Without operationally defining such words each time we use them, we run the risk of confusing behaviors that most likely have different functions, even if they appear to have similar forms. And nonhumans cannot have a “theory of mind” because all the evidence for theory of mind is linguistic.
Bekoff is also incorrect that, “The behaviorist view is small concerned with evolution. It also fails to recognize that the behavior of many animals is far too bendable and situationspecific to be clarified in terms of simplified stimulusresponse contingencies. Marked withinspecies variability is quite common, and this adaptive variability often (although not everlastingly) lends itself readily to “cognitive” explanations invoking consciousness, intentions and beliefs.”
All behaviorists that I know (and I know quite a few), including me, are all thoroughgoing Darwinians. We recognize the contribution of natural selction to the behavior of organisms, but, as Bekoff notes, we also recognize the flexibility or adaptiveness of behavior. Bekoff is right that such flexibility cannot be clarified by “simplified spur-response contingencies,” but who, since John Watson, has tried to do that? That doesn’t mean that the principles of operant learning (the science of adaptive behavior within the lifetime of an organism) aren’t sufficient to clarify the behavior. In fact, “explanations invoking consciousness, intentions and beliefs” are not only not sufficient, they are not parsimonious, invoking as they do unobservable, undefinable, and unmeasurable processes. Such concepts are simply not necessary to clarify the behavior of human beings much less other animals.
Bekoff critizes Wynn for not providing any scientific support for his reductionistic explanations, but the scientific support is in the nearly one hundred years of accumulated empirical research on animal (and human) learning. From there, any interpretation based on the principles derived from that research is more parsimonious that the made-up explanations involving cognitive structures and processes.
Bekoff implies that all one has to do is to watch free ranging animals to appreciate the flexibility and complexity of animal behavior and to realize that only cognitive exlanations will be enough to know such behavior. But cognitive explanations, born as thay are from age-ancient philosophical speculation about unseen and unseeable events, have never sufficed as scientific explanations and they never will.
Wynne is aptly on target when he claims, according to Bekoff, that “we should be very cautious about ascribing consciousness to animals and that anthropomorphic explanations have no place in the study of animal behavior.” To do so in no way diminishes the complexity of the behavior of any species. As another reviewer said, we don’t need to compare nonhumans (we’re animals too) to humans to appreciate or respect them.
Letter to the Bookshelf
Do Animals Reckon? by Clive D. L. Wynne
September 21, 2004
The question in the title of Clive D. L. Wynne’s book, Do Animals Reckon? is the incorrect question to question. In his review (September-October 2004), Mark Bekoff continues and expands this line of questioning by asking, do “animals consciously administer in rank about their social and nonsocial environments?” “What is going on in the minds of animals? Do they have desires and beliefs?”
These are not scientific, but rather philosophical, questions that have been debated without resolution for centuries. It is not a contest (between behaviorists and cognitivists or anyone else) that can be settled by appealing to any sort of data either. There is no experimentum crucis. Nevertheless, Bekoff doesn’t hesitate to throw his hat into the ring by concluding that the answers lie somewhere in the middle; between the “firm behaviorist stance,” presumably taken by Wynne, that “animals are merely thoughtless robotic automatons to those who argue that all are thought creatures with rich cognitive lives.” According to Bekoff (“a rich cognitivist”), “a number of animals have the capacity for thought about certain situations and showing bendable, bendable behavior, even as others may behave reflexively, with small or no plotting at all.”
The real scientific question about nonhumans, but, is not whether or what they reckon or whether they “consciously administer in rank,” but what they do in what contexts and what causes them to do it. These are the only questions that can be addressed by an objective science without resorting to irresolvable speculation about vague and muddy philosophical concepts.
Do many nonhumans show bendable, adaptive behavior? Certainly. Does that indicate consciousness (whatever that is)? Who knows? It depends on how one uses the term “consciousness.” Do we need to speculate about an animal’s consciousness or so-called cognitive processes to fully know its behavior? The resolution is an undeniable “no.”
If we behavioral scientists (evolutionary biologists, ethologists, behavior analysts, neuroscientists and even geneticists) can learn the corporal events that are responsible for behavior, then there is nothing left to clarify or about which to speculate.
Psychologists, ethologists, and neuroscientists are still intrigued by the lofty and ultimately unanswerable philosophical questions about mind and consciousness. Despite persistent optimism in some ranks, these questions will never be answered until the concepts are defined in objective, measurable terms involving the animal’s behavior and its corporal causes. Once that is done, the questions will become moot because we will have a complete understanding of nonhuman (and human) behavior.
Until then, the debate about human and nonhuman mind and consciousness will continue ad infinitum and ad nauseam.
Rating: 5 / 5