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Nonhuman Animals and the Moral Sense
Shannon Ostermueller
Many philosophers argue that within the natural world, human beings are in a distinct
category unto themselves. Due to our mental faculties and moral capacities, we are pushed into an
entirely new category -- one in which our species has ultimate control and where the rest of the
world is used as a tool for the fulfillment of human desires. I find this position to be highly
problematic. While it is true that we differ from other animals in various and important aspects,
the gap between us is not nearly as wide as it is perceived to be. Homo sapiens are part
of an evolutionary continuum in which we have many relatives similar to us in fundamental ways.
The gap creates a false dualism -- that of human/animal -- that needs to be discarded. Humans are
animals, and while this might seem obvious, most people do not see themselves as
animals. But we are, and our actions reinforce this--and not in so much as they are "savage,"
either. For now, it needs to be noted that the species barrier, while not completely arbitrary, is
nonetheless an artificial divider among lifeforms and does not reflect absolute differences, but
instead groups these lifeforms according to arbitrary criteria. This paper will examine one aspect
of the common ground which is shared among human and nonhuman animals -- namely, that of
the moral sense.
Some of the qualities that we as human beings value most highly are not necessarily
limited to our species. Among these is the capacity for human beings to conduct themselves in
manners that correspond to any particular set of moral values. This characteristic is widely
considered to be a primary division between Homo sapiens and other species. I argue
that this claim is false; nonhuman animals possess a moral sense similar to that of human beings
and are not the amoral creatures they are so often perceived as being. They are thinking and
caring individuals who have the capacity to make choices and enforce moral values. They have a
degree of moral agency that is not to be neglected or ignored by our species. In fact, the moral
choices made by human beings reflect parallel choices made by nonhuman animals on a daily
basis.
It is commonly believed that nonhuman animals "do not know the difference between
'right' and 'wrong.'" Human beings are thought to be superior to other creatures because they
make choices based on particular values that their cultures hold dear. Nonhuman animals, on the
contrary, act only according to instinct, and their actions often contradict those we (humans)
would label "moral." Thus when a female mouse eats her young, she is thought to be acting only
upon instinct and to lack concern for her offspring.
The above conclusion is drawn after a comparison is made between the female mouse and
human mothers. Human mothers do not eat their babies; to do so would be considered highly
immoral. Mothers of our species care for their children, and have an interest in their well-being.
They want to see their offspring thrive from the start. Eating them would obviously thwart this
desire. These wishes of a human mother to see her children thrive and sheltered from harm are
components of what many cultures refer to as "motherly love." A human mother "loves" her
children; we know this because of the constant concern she exhibits for their well-being and the
pleasure she takes in providing it for them. The mouse in the above example does not appear to
conform to this standard. How can she desire to see her offspring thrive and succeed if she
simultaneously devours them?
The mouse that eats her young is doing what is necessary for her other offspring to
survive. There exists a limited amount of resources for the mice she gives birth to; in order for
any of them to survive, some must be eliminated. It does not follow from this act of infanticide
that the mother does not care for her children. In fact, the opposite is true of such situations; the
nonhuman mother is doing what is best for her offspring collectively, and, in so doing, being a
"good" mother.
This example illustrates a crucial point: though it might not always appear so on the
surface, nonhuman animals often behave in manners that are compatible with and similar to human
moral codes. As David DeGrazia notes in his book Taking Animals Seriously,
Many animals reveal dispositions to respond to natural goods and evils in socially useful ways;
they reveal what, in humans, are considered virtues. . . . Mothers care tenderly for their babies.
Orphans are adopted by other members of a group. Sometimes animals care for old or feeble
companions (even though the adaptive value of doing so is not obvious). (199)
These consistencies are due to the fact that what we term "morality" is actually a predisposition
found in many other creatures that tends, in the long run, to increase an individual's chance of
survival. The same actions that are praised for being "morally righteous" when performed by
human beings are termed "instinctual" when performed by any other animal. This line between
"morality" and "instinct" is not nearly as sharp as many philosophers today claim.
In order to clarify this claim, it would be helpful to turn to a concrete example. This
particular research is found in Frans de Waal's book, Good Natured. In one of his many
projects involving chimpanzees, de Waal found that after aggressive conflicts within a colony of
chimps, it is a common occurrence for the individuals involved in the conflict to be consoled by
other group members. Within colonies, chimpanzees often engage in aggressive activity. The
internal hierarchy of these groups is strictly enforced, and when one chimp pushes his or her
"superior" too far, fights often ensue. After such aggressive attacks, bystanders that were not
involved in the conflict console the participants, and, in particular, the victim of the attack. A
study conducted by de Waal and Aureli of over 1,300 such conflicts found that "Typically the
bystanders hug and touch them, pat them on the back, or groom them for a while. These contacts
are aimed at precisely those individuals expected to be most upset by the preceding event" (de
Waal 60-61, 228-229). The study revealed that within the first two minutes after an attack, the
victim received more than two and a half times the amount of grooming as the aggressor.
This behavior has a definite benefit to the group as a whole. By calming the individual
who received the brunt of the aggression, the other members ensure that the atmosphere will
return to normal and no further conflicts will arise. If the victim were to remain agitated, he or
she might attempt to retaliate against the aggressor, or the atmosphere of the colony would
remain tense and unpredictable -- and hence, uncomfortable -- for all members.
Clearly, calming the victim of the attack is beneficial to the victim him/herself, but since it
is also beneficial to the tranquility of the group as a whole, could such consolation really be
considered altruistic? Human beings that focus on the evolutionary explanations for nonhuman
animal actions might say that the act of consolation in such cases is self-serving: the chimps offer
their reassurance only because they wish to live in a peaceful environment with minimal stress.
What are we to make of their actions?
Before answering this question, I examine one other case of caretaking that is relevant to
the inquiry. The case took place at the Wisconsin Primate Center in a group of rhesus monkeys.
Within the group, a female was born with autosomal trisomy, a condition that parallels Down
syndrome in human beings. Her name was Azalea, and she developed at a considerably slower
rate than her peers: "Running, jumping, and climbing posed major challenges. . . . Her
coordination was imperfect, her reaction time slow" (de Waal 49). The infant was at a
considerable disadvantage among her peers, and she posed a burden to the group as a whole.
However, this did not stop her family from taking special care of her:
Azalea's elder juvenile sister . . . did pay extra attention, carrying her around well beyond the
normal age for such sisterly care and protecting her against other monkeys. If others acted
toward Azalea in a manner to which any normal rhesus infant would object, such as pulling out
one hair after another during grooming, her sister would interrupt the activity even though Azalea
herself uttered not the slightest protest. (49)
Azalea's sister realized that Azalea was a special case and took appropriate care of her.
One might argue that since Azalea was a close biological relative, her sister had an interest in her
survival so that her genes may be passed on. But the sister's care went far beyond simply ensuring
survival; she protected Azalea from her peers who often took advantage of her and "teased" her.
The image of the elder sibling coming to the rescue of a little brother or sister is one to which
humans can relate -- there is a type of responsibility for the older to look out for the younger.
Azalea's sister was acting in just this manner, being especially protective of Azalea in light of her
condition.
In both the case of chimpanzee consolation and the case of Azalea, one party is benefiting
from the attention of others. In the long run, however, these others are also benefited themselves.
Are they, then, simply acting out of "instinct," looking out for themselves? I do not believe this
explanation is sufficient. It involves a confusion of what de Waal refers to as ultimate and
proximate causes. He writes:
Proximate causes concern learning, experience, and the direct circumstances and
motivations underlying behavior. Ultimate causes promoted a behavior in the course of
evolution. . . . Since evolution takes place on a timescale that escapes perception, only
proximate causes exist in the minds of animals and most humans. (222)
The chimpanzees in this case are not necessarily thinking about the environment in which they
desire to live; while consoling a victim might be beneficial in the long-term for a group, the
individual chimps are not aware of this consequence. They are, on some level, thinking of the
benefit their actions will have upon the distressed individual. Likewise, Azalea's elder sister is not
worrying about her own genetic code being reproduced. She is simply being protective of a close
relative in need of her assistance.
The confusion of proximate and ultimate causes is a confusion of psychology with biology.
The two disciplines are inextricably linked, no doubt, but it is the proximate causes that are
referred to when moral judgments are on the line. These are also precisely the causes that are
believed to be lacking in nonhuman animals. The actions of all animals, humans included, have
some sort of ultimate cause behind them. The error lies in the belief that these ultimate causes are
the only causes of behavior in nonhuman animals, and this is precisely what I argue to be
false. Most individuals, human or otherwise, are not even aware of these underlying causes.
Species other than our own would have to be much more aware of the functions their actions
serve than we are concerning ours. I find this highly implausible. What is plausible is the notion
that nonhuman animals are at least as unaware of ultimate causes as human beings are, and that,
unless they are merely unthinking automata, their behavior can be attributed to more immediate
motivations.
What I argue is that at least some nonhuman animals are endowed with capacities that
resemble the moral sense of the human being. The ultimate causes that underlie much of the
social behavior of Homo sapiens and other species are compellingly similar. In the
process of evolution, our species, like all others, has developed specified responses to
circumstances which arise in the context of our particular environments. We find ourselves in
situations that require a slightly different set of moral responses from those required not only by
other species, but in other human cultures as well. Across species (at least within the mammalian
class of animals), there is an underlying moral sense--a perception of "right actions" versus
"wrong actions"--that is commonly shared.
While it is true that human beings have the most complex moral system found in nature,
we did not "invent" morality as many individuals (philosophers in particular) would like to believe.
Moral philosophers often seek to "discover" a priori the laws governing morality.
Though there may be some agreed upon norms, these standards were not created from objective
reflections of a purely logical and rational nature. They are beliefs that human beings first sense
intuitively, and only then are their origins examined and rationalized into moral "rules" or "laws."
When one reflects upon some of the most widely held moral precepts -- do not commit murder,
do not lie, do not steal from others -- one comes to realize that these guidelines exist to further
benefit all of humankind. As I will explain in more detail soon, these moral precepts have a sort
of evolutionary value, and this value is relevant not only to our species, but to others as well.
What differentiates human morality from nonhuman morality is that it is often thought of
in terms of abstract rules. Other animals do not do moral philosophy; only human beings do this.
However, the moral sense that exists in human beings is also present in at least some
nonhuman animals. It is this sense, I argue, that counts. Moral philosophy is important, but it is
not responsible for the daily decisions most individuals make in their lives. Moral philosophers
are, in fact, quite rare. Very few people refer their actions to abstract rules that they follow. One
does not need to meditate on the "right to life" of one who annoys him or her; refraining from
murdering that person does not require contemplation of abstract goods, but an immediate sense
that the action would be "wrong" -- it would violate one's moral sensibilities. This is how, day to
day, most individuals live their lives. If a man saves a child from drowning by immediately
jumping into the pool and pulling the child out, he is labeled a "hero" and praised for doing the
"morally right thing," even though he did not hesitate long enough to even think about his action
beforehand. His moral sensibilities were what immediately spurred him into action.
These moral sensibilities are what nonhuman animals employ to direct their behavior. The
complexity of a species' moral sense depends largely on the complexity of its social environment.
Nonhuman animals are not amoral beings; their environmental conditions have simply not favored
the development of a more complex moral sense (where "complex" refers to such features as
more or less universal norms and the presence of abstract moral concepts). Nonhuman animals
are said to act on instinct, because they lack the ability to choose between "right" and
"wrong;" conversely, humans make such decisions on a daily basis. This is not the case.
Nonhuman animals do in fact possess the ability to choose between right and wrong. Their
situations, however, do not always present them with feasible options, as I will discuss below.
It often appears that nonhuman animals, especially those that are undomesticated, do not
make choices. They consistently follow a pattern of behavior over and over again with very little
variation. But, they can make choices. What differentiates their choices from those of most
Homo sapiens is that they have much more limited options. Certain needs must
be met before individuals begin to show signs of compassion, fairness, and altruism, among other
virtues. These are qualities that most human beings have developed and refined because they can
afford to do so. People that do not face a daily struggle for survival are able to look past
themselves and their present situations toward further ideological goals. Most nonhuman animals
do not have this luxury.
In nature, animals demonstrate more or less routine behavior because such behavior,
adapted to a specific environment, best enables an individual to survive. By saying that nonhuman
animals lack options, I refer to the dire consequences for "stepping out of line" or acting
spontaneously in their situations. One might protest that if nonhuman animals truly had the ability
to choose, there would be a greater variety in the responses they show under various
circumstances. But such "individuality" is simply not practical for most nonhuman animals. If, for
example, a young male lion vies for the top position in his pride and fails to obtain it, there is little
he can do. The young lion has the choice to leave his group, but it is not a feasible
option. For if he leaves the group, his chances for survival and, perhaps more
importantly, reproduction, dramatically decline. If he attempts to gain control of his pride and
fails, the lion will not "voice his opinion" by leaving the group that provides him with security.
From a practical point of view, that action would be foolish, and the lion understands this. This
does not mean that the creature deliberately attempts to discern the "logical" and "rational"
solution to his dilemma; as I stated above, most human beings do not do this either. The young
lion relies on his immediate sense and understanding of the necessity of group membership for his
survival.
As the options in the lives of other species increase, so does the degree of variation in
behavior. The presence of added options to the group of rhesus monkeys mentioned earlier
allowed them to take special care of Azalea, the mentally disabled infant. De Waal observed her
behavior as a primatologist and concluded that "she would never have survived in the wild" (49).
In the wild, the burden Azalea presented to her family would have been too great to bear; she
would have held her group up in the search for food and the escape from danger. Yet she
survived at the Wisconsin Primate Center. If her family did not have a choice in their role as
caretakers, if they acted only upon instinct, they would have abandoned Azalea to die. In the
wild, survival would dictate that she be left alone, and if the survival instinct of her family were
not flexible, she would have died. Her family, however, was able to adapt to their
situation. They were able to care for a group member that was not strong and was of little
practical use to them. Since they were provided with resources (food and safety), they had the
luxury of being able to care for all individuals, whether or not they would have been burdens in
the wild.
For the most part, human beings possess this type of security to the extent that they are
able to form moral systems and have sanctions against some types of selfish behavior. Especially
in nations like the United States, the majority of citizens do not have to resort to violent and
selfish actions (like murdering and stealing) in order to obtain the goods they need to survive. In
nonhuman animal societies, this is often not the case. Each member must look out for and protect
him/herself against those who might harm him or her. In contrast, our human culture now
protects the individual at a political level; there are designated forces which deal with criminals, so
that each individual citizen does not have to be on guard him/herself at all times.
But just as an increase in resources and options leads to greater security and more
altruistic sentiments, a decrease in resources and options has the opposite effect. In a book
entitled The Mountain People, anthropologist Colin Turnbull describes an African
community that was plagued by starvation. The members of the community -- the Ik -- began
treating each other in ways that were previously condemned: "They would shriek with laughter if
someone fell, especially if weak or blind, or if an elder lost his food to roaming teenagers, who
would go as far as to pry open the mouths of old people to pull out morsels that they had not yet
swallowed" (de Waal 85). The Ik "turned on each other," so to speak. Even children were left to
fend for themselves (86).
In the case of the Ik, the individuals witnessed a drastic reduction in resources -- namely,
food. In some primate societies changes have resulted in greater abundance and more individual
freedom. Under these circumstances, primates begin to show a much more complex moral sense;
socially defined dos and don'ts manifest themselves. When a group member
transgresses an informal "rule," he or she receives punishment.
In other situations, values having to do with group harmony come into play. In
chimpanzee colonies, there is usually a single male that holds what is called the "control role."
This male is a leader in the colony, and is in charge of breaking up group conflicts. The control
role is very important to a colony; chimps are social animals that depend on each other for
survival, and it is crucial that their social environment remain as peaceful as possible. Males in
control roles, then, must have the ability to resolve intragroup conflicts without making a situation
worse off than it was in the first place.
For this reason, successful control males are often impartial in their "rulings" over
conflicts. Instead of punishing their personal adversary or rewarding a relative, they will either
support the underdog or break up the fight without taking a side at all. Frans de Waal has studied
this role in detail. He writes:
Because my students and I recorded thousands of interventions in Arnhem, we were able to
compare them statistically with partner preferences expressed in grooming and association. While
most group members favored their relatives, friends, and allies when interfering in a dispute,
control males were exceptional in that they placed themselves above the conflicting
parties. They seemed to interfere on the basis of how best to restore peace rather than how best
to help friends. (129)
If a chimp in the control role does not display impartiality and is ineffective, he stands to become
deposed by the other members of the colony.
The male in the control role serves as arbitrator for intragroup conflicts. Though he is
often impartial, he does not assess a situation in terms of fairness; that is, he does not "rule"
whether one individual was in the "right" and one was in the "wrong." However, his manner of
resolving conflict involves the comprehension of complex group dynamics. The chimp in the
control role is not merely acting "instinctually;" he is aware of the importance of group harmony
and understands how to keep this harmony in balance. As de Waal notes, "The dissociation
between a control male's social preferences and the way he manages intragroup conflict is unique,
showing the first signs of equity and justice" (131).
Advanced primate societies often display characteristics that human beings most easily
recognize as similar to their own. It is in these colonies of chimpanzees and groups of monkeys
that humans find parallels to their own lives and relationships; it is easiest to do so under the
circumstances. We ourselves are members of the primate order, and these other species are our
closest relatives. This is the reason that the examples in my paper have primarily concerned
primates. Many of their actions closely resemble ours, and this is perhaps the best starting point
for individuals to begin to examine the moral sense of other species.
However, I do not wish to imply that it is only other primates that have these capabilities.
I strongly believe otherwise. Unfortunately, much of the most thorough evidence and research
conducted to date in areas which affect my argument have been on monkeys and apes. Until more
research is done concerning other species, we have to make do with the material at hand.
Whether dealing with primates or other orders of animals, it is critical that human beings
begin to understand the degree of moral agency which other species possess. We are not the only
moral creatures on this planet; morality was not "discovered" or "created" by Homo
sapiens. It is a product of evolution in that it serves to promote the survival and reproduction
of individual animals. However, this is only its ultimate cause; its proximate causes emerge from
the value systems upheld by individuals and their respective communities. These values do not
need to result from philosophical contemplation in order to bear the mark of legitimacy. They are
values which individuals rightly sense make their lives better, whatever their definition of "better"
might be (or if they even have one). This "sense" -- the moral sense -- is possessed by many
species; human beings do not have a monopoly on it. It is this moral sense that underlies all moral
decisions. It underlies the interactions among members of a species, the relationships between
friends and relatives, and even our own formal laws. This moral sense is not solely the mark of
humanity. It does not derive its value from the belief that it separates humankind from the rest of
the natural world. Its value is derived from its success in enabling individuals of all species to
achieve lasting, functional, and even meaningful relationships among each other.
The implications involved in accepting this position are far-reaching. If nonhuman animals
are capable of moral agency, we (as humans) must reexamine our relationships with other species.
The notion of universal human rights might need to be extended to include other animals; certain
research practices might be found incompatible with the autonomy that accompanies moral
agency. Many of these questions will be political and rights-oriented, but we must keep in mind
that this issue is not fundamentally about rights; it is about life, and the respect members of all
species require as autonomous individuals.
Bibliography
de Waal, Frans. Good Natured: The Origins of Right and Wrong in Humans and Other
Animals. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996.
DeGrazia, David. Taking Animals Seriously: Mental Life and Moral Status. Cambridge
University Press, 1996.
Griffin, Donald R. Animal Minds. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1992.
Hauser, Marc D. Wild Minds: What Animals Really Think. New York: Henry Holt and
Company, 2000.
Michel, Anna. The Story of Nim: The Chimp Who Learned Language. New York: Alfred
A. Knopf, 1980.
Rachels, James. Created From Animals: The Moral Implications of Darwinism. Oxford
University Press, 1990.
Radner, Daisie and Michael. Animal Consciousness. Frontiers of Philosophy. Prometheus
Books: Amherst, 1996.
Rogers, Leslie J. Minds of Their Own: Thinking and Awareness in Animals. Westview
Press, 1997.
Steinbock, Bonnie. "Speciesism and the Idea of Equality." Philosophy 53.204 (1978)
247-256.
The Ampersand
Copyright 2001 Shannon Ostermueller. All rights reserved.
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