Sure, human beings are a distinct species. We are unique. As is the star-nosed mole and millions of other life-forms. But are we manifestly special to such an extent that we deserve to grant ourselves unquestioned dominion over all other species?
As for any alleged immaterial soul . . . that has yet to be manifest in any verifiable way. So how else does our kind rate as totally above and beyond all others? What exclusive characteristic makes us ontologically fabulous?
As scientists are learning more and more about other species, and are getting better and better at shedding anthropocentric blinders, it is becoming clear that we aren't so whole-cloth exceptional. Consider the following two new findings:
1) 'Look at That!' Ravens Gesture With Their Beaks to Point out Objects to Each Other
Previous research has shown that while dogs understand human pointing, chimpanzees do not. And chimpanzees don't point in the wild. At least not with an extended index finger at something in the distance. Dogs don't either.
So is intentionally directing the attention of another a uniquely human trait? Maybe not.
For two years, Simone Pika und Thomas Bugnyar investigated the non-vocal behaviour of individually marked members of a wild raven community in the Cumberland Wildpark in Grünau, Austria. They observed that ravens use their beaks similar to hands to show and offer objects such as moss, stones and twigs.
Hmm. What else have we got?
2) Plant-food and tool transfer among savanna chimpanzees at Fongoli, Senegal
Chimpanzees found to share food and tools?! What we have here is more evidence revealing that nature isn't completely red in tooth and claw (and thus in need of religion to save it from itself).
From the study abstract -
Transferring food is considered a defining characteristic of humans, as such behavior is relatively uncommon in other animal species save for kin-based transfer. Chimpanzees (Pan troglodytes) are one exception, as they commonly transfer meat among nonrelatives but rarely transfer other resources. New observations at Fongoli, Senegal, show habitual transfer of wild-plant foods and other non-meat resources among community members beyond transfers from mother to offspring.
Chimpanzees sharing tools . . . those hairy communists!
Okay, we've still got our Stanford-Binet scores and other ways to convince ourselves we aren't "mere" animals. Oh, and language! Almost forgot language. No other animals are capable of using a completely symbol-based means of communication. Right? Well, at least as far as we currently know.
[traveling mode - recycled material - first appeared here]
Most of you are probably familiar with the case of the peppered moth. In it's original form, the moth was lighter in color. Enter the industrial revolution and the discoloration of surfaces, such as tree trunks, due to soot in the air. Over the course of moth generations, they took on a darker coloration. Those that blended with their environment better avoided predation and survived to reproduce. Dark color-genes were naturally selected for, you could say. Though there wasn't an agent doing the selecting, nor was there a greater purpose to the selection.
A similar case has been discovered and studied. This time it was not peppered moths in England, but deer mice Nebraska. And the species did not darken in color, but lighten. Why? During the last ice age, "glaciers deposited sand dunes atop what had been much darker soil."
For a mouse, as with a moth, standing out is not a good thing. Although hawks and other predators would differ in their preference for the color of their dinner.
How do we know these mice were once darker in color? Because the darker variety still exists. One might argue that the darker is a transitional variant of sorts. At least were the sand dune mice to eventually become a completely isolated and separate breeding population that eventually didn't recognize the darker mice as potential mates. Call it evolution in action. And it's happening right under our noses.
Here a little more info from the source article:
This and other evidence, including much greater genetic uniformity among pale mutants than their dark wildtype cousins, suggests this mutation is a relatively recent development, likely arising shortly after the formation of the Sand Hills in north-central Nebraska.
By mating light Sand Hills mice and dark mice found outside the Sand Hills, Linnen and Hoekstra determined that the light coloration seen in Agouti mutants is genetically dominant to the darker coats seen among wildtype mice.
One last point. During a recent Colbert Report episode, Richard Dawkins told the host of the show that any purpose to life is a human purpose. We create any purpose perceived. And I agree with that. Dawkins also said that, yes, evolution is random. But this point I wonder about. Hear me out.
In the case of the mice, for instance, genetic mutation responsible for the change in deer mice coloration. I wonder if this type of mutation is completely random. Could there be some sort of epigenetic input involved? Biologists have recently come to understand that experiences can turn off and on already existing genes. Nurture triggers nature. Can some types of experience likewise make some genes more likely to mutate than others? Has the differing visual input (experience) of the deer mice, triggered a greater propensity for it to undergo genetic change (nature) in it's fur-coloring genes? I wouldn't be surprise if in the future we discover that much of randomness to evolution is actually more of a reflection of our ignorance than anything else. Of course, the opposite of random is not purposefully determined.
A tom cranberry bird (otherwise known as a male cardinal). Not enough breast meat to top a cracker.
Carolina chickadee. In some cultures they fry small birds whole and eat them bones and all. I'd prefer to use this tiny guy for entertainment outside my window than calories on my table.
Boat-tailed grackle. Interesting bird, but obnoxious. Travels in small gangs, will empty a feeder in little time. You have my blessing to eat a couple. Maybe wrapping a drumstick in bacon would be nice. Precious few servings per bird.
Blue jay. Not many of these around my small neck of woods. The feathers might make a nice table centerpiece. But getting the bird to sit still for any amount of time would be difficult.
Don't you dare eat this bird! A somewhat oddly named red-bellied woodpecker. At best their bellies become crimson blushed. Because it is a woodpecker and dines on dead-wood insects, and because dead wood is scarce in developed areas of Florida . . . the future doesn't look bright for this species.
Barred owl. A carnivore. But do you really want to eat recycled lizards and mice?
There we go! Wild turkey photographed last spring on the riverbank while boating (as was the above owl). But you might want to select one of his cousins from the supermarket freezer case. Quite tasty, lots of meat. What's not to love!
Enjoy.
[recycled material - first appeared here]
A couple months ago I read of research into what was billed as a sixth sense. You can't call it seeing, nor smell. It's not quite touch nor hearing. Taste? No. What is it?
Fish and some amphibians possess a unique sensory capability in the so-called lateral-line system. It allows them, in effect, to "touch" objects in their surroundings without direct physical contact or to "see" in the dark. [source]
Is this sixth sense in any way similar to "touch" or "sight"? Hmm. If you ask me, it is a lot closer to hearing. Fish, of course, don't have ears. But, oddly, many make noises, so they can perceive these. How? It seems that while they lack outer ears, they do have an inner ear structure. Vibrations pass through their body to the inner ear, which allows them to hear. Just as you can hear strong vibrations even with fingers jammed in your ears.
A major difference is that land animals hear vibrations that pass through a gas, our thin atmosphere, while fish sense vibrations that pass through their dense, liquid environment. I believe the "sixth sense" talked of in the research is much like hearing because it relies upon sensing movements in the water. Here's the nitty-gritty of how the sense works:
This remote sensing system, at first glance mysterious, rests on measurement of the pressure distribution and velocity field in the surrounding water. The lateral-line organs responsible for this are aligned along the left and right sides of the fish's body and also surround the eyes and mouth. They consist of gelatinous, flexible, flag-like units about a tenth of a millimeter long. These so-called neuromasts – which sit either directly on the animal's skin or just underneath, in channels that water can permeate through pores – are sensitive to the slightest motion of the water. Coupled to them are hair cells similar to the acoustic pressure sensors in the human inner ear. Nerves deliver signals from the hair cells for processing in the brain, which localizes and identifies possible sources of the changes detected in the water's motion. [bold mine]
There you have it. Fish can hear/feel changes in their liquid atmosphere. Would a human equivalent be the ability to decipher the direction from where a slight puff of air has brushed the skin? Would we not only hear and see someone place a stack of books on a table, but also feel the slight wave of compressed air generated by it?
And what happens when a fish is pulled from of the water? Does "all go silent" for this sense? Or does it instead perceive a raucous of strange noises? A fishy tinnitus? I wonder.
To truly get into a fish's head you'd have to inhabit its whole body.
He sees you when you're sleeping
He knows when you're awake
He knows if you've been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake. (64)
Although the above words are about a supernatural being, that being is not considered a god. Maybe a saint, but not a god. Yet the watching is god-like. Besides Santa Claus, personal gods tend to have the ability to monitor behavior. They can watch you and judge your behavior as bad or good. Because there is no limit to their seeing, you will not get away with violating the rules of your religion. As the Biblical character Job laments, Will you never look away from me? (Job 7:19)
In any primate group their must be a balance between behavior that is directly self-serving and behavior that serves to maintain group integrity. There are thus checks and balances, including the instinct to be vigilant for cheaters—you can’t trust them, can you?—and to punish violators. A good example of this are the many economic/psychological studies employing the “ultimatum” game. In an extreme version, two complete strangers--individuals not of the same group past or future--must divide a sum of money. One stranger decides upon his cut of the money, say a total of $100. He or she then slides the remaining amount under the door to the unseen and unknown other. If the other accepts that amount, they both get to keep the money. If not, neither gets any money. Manifesting just how social a species we are, most individuals in this scenario will split the money equally or near-equally and slide 40 or 50 dollars under the door. Both players walk away richer. When the money is unevenly divided, however, the risk for rejection of the sum rises dramatically, the result being that both players walk away with nothing gained. And it happens more often than you would think. Many an individual receiving a 20 dollar cut will refuse the free money. He or she will instead punish the unfairness, in effect punishing themselves as well. No one likes a cheater.
In her paper on the evolution of cheater detection, Denise D. Cummins wrote, “[C]heater detection plays a broader role in social coordination as a fundamental, primitive cognitive adaptation to dominance hierarchies. . . . In order to maintain priority of access to resources, dominant individuals monitor the behavior of subordinates and aggress against those who “cheat” (violate social norms).” (65)
As a super-dominant being, you would expect a god to monitor the behavior of all of its subordinates and punish those caught cheating. Even in social groups where rules and laws have not been codified by religion, and where a single, supreme alpha has not been designated, you will often find invisible spirits that take an interest in 'who does what.' (66) Why would these para-normal entities care? Because, in some way, they are one of us; we are them. One characteristic that distinguishes the religious from the paranormal is consistent involvement and interest of the invisible party. Thoughts of a door-banging and chain-dragging kind of ghost may be spooky, but they fail to incite social emotions as readily as the holy-ghost kind of invisible entity. Only one of these kinds of ghosts will make us wonder if “they” know about our recent behavioral transgression.
In his book on evolutionary underpinnings of religion, anthropologist Scott Atran notes that if we want to enforce a social contract made between individuals, get more people involved. Make social contracts a community affair. For then there will be more eyes watching for violation and a greater probability that a wronged party will have someone to back them up in a dispute. What typically makes social contracts a community affair? Religion. Atran writes, “Displays of commitment to supernatural agents signal sincere willingness to cooperate with the community of believers.” (67)
Not only do invisible alphas provide a super-member for a group to form around, as dominant beings they are especially good at catching cheaters, and thus, presumably, at deterring cheating. Psychological experiments conducted on human primates have found that when adopting a status of high-rank, an individual will be more vigilant for cheating than when adopting a position of low rank.(68) It seems we innately expect for more dominant individuals to watch over less.
When a king sits on his throne to judge, he winnows out all evil with his eyes. (Proverbs 20:8)
And so we invite a super-being into our social circle to help us be good, to get along. In her ruminations about the origins of church-going rituals, Karen Armstrong notes that from early Biblical texts it can be surmised that early, semi-nomadic Israelites carried the “home” of their god with them—the Ark of the Covenant. In tent-walled temples, they renewed their commitment to Yahweh, their number one, and through him, to one another. (69)
Is this a reason for church-going behavior today? Do individuals gather together to acknowledge their number one? Does church-going strengthen individual commitment to a group, does it remind members of important social rules? Do the texts and teachings inform them they are being watched, and if they violate the special rules they will receive not coal in their Christmas stocking, but something worse?
Do you really want to risk being bad? You better watch out.
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(64) "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" by John Frederick Coots and Haven Gillespie
(65) Cummins, D. D. “Cheater Detection is Modified by Social Rank: The Impact of Dominance of the Evolution of Cognitive Functions,” Evolution and Human Behavior, Volume 20, Issue 4, July 1999, 220-248.
(66) Wilson, D.S. Darwin’s Cathedral: Evolution, Religion, and the Nature of Society, University of Chicago, Chicago, 2002, p. 64
(67) Atran, S., In God’s We Trust: The Evolutionary Landscape of Religion, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2002, p.16
(68) Cummins, D. D., July 1999, 220-248.
(69) Armstrong, K. The Great Transformation: The Beginning of our Religious Traditions, Knopf, New York, 2006, p.43
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