- Book information
- The Gap: The science of what separates us from other animals by Thomas Suddendorf
- Published by: Basic Books
- Price: $29.99
For all that separates us from gorillas and other great apes, we are family (Image: Bruce Davidson/naturepl.com)
We are unlike any other animal, but the differences are surprisingly difficult to pin down. The Gap by Thomas Suddendorf is the most comprehensive attempt yet
"THIS book is about you," goes the beguiling first sentence of The Gap. It reminded me instantly of the refrain from a Carly Simon song: "You're so vain, I'll bet you think this song is about you. Don't you? Don't you?"
There is indeed something vain about we navel-gazing humans, arrogantly pondering our specialness even as we destroy the environment and with it the species that are purportedly inferior to us. Author Thomas Suddendorf, an increasingly visible presence in this field, is well aware of this dilemma but he brings considerable cross-disciplinary expertise to bear.
A psychology professor at the University of Queensland, Australia, he is a specialist in the cognitive development of children and non-human primates, and in The Gap he combs through evidence from areas as diverse as animal behaviour, anthropology and psychology to understand and explain the chasm that seems to separate animals and humans.
The book begins by setting up an intriguing premise. The gap exists, Suddendorf says, through our own actions: "The answer to the question of why we appear so different from other animals is that all closely related species have become extinct. We are the last humans." In other words, we killed off our nearest relatives.
With that thought implanted in readers' minds, Suddendorf gives us a quick tour of what we know of our remaining close relatives, the non-human primates. For me, this is one of the most engaging chapters in the book, as Suddendorf has spent time with these animals and leaves us with some indelible images.
Take this gem from when he encountered gorillas in Uganda: "The silverback was lying on his side studying his fingernails. He then casually grabbed his butt cheek, lifted it a little, and let one rip." It's a piquant reminder that for all our separation from other primates, we are family.
With the familiar caveat that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, Suddendorf attempts to nail down what he thinks are the crucial differences between us and other animals. He writes: "There appears to be a tremendous gap between human and animal minds." But why? Is it down to brain size? Not really. Elephants and whales trump us. What about brain size relative to body size? Well, shrews and mice do much better on that front.
It becomes obvious that such coarse measures are not going to help. "As it stands... it is not clear what it is about our brains that causes our minds to be special," admits Suddendorf. Much of the book has this kind of back-and-forth feel about it. Take a human trait. Is it unique? Well, maybe, but it's a question of degree.
Consider tool use. It's obviously a significant human achievement, but other animals are pretty good at it, too. Chimpanzees use leaves as toilet paper, or as umbrellas. New Caledonian crows are adept at fashioning tools with leaves or sticks to get to their food, at times even using a shorter stick to get to a longer stick which they then use to reach the food.
Or how about the controversial mirror self-recognition test? Chimps, orang-utans and gorillas recognise themselves in a mirror and so pass this test. Monkeys, such as baboons, capuchins and macaques, fail. There's also shaky evidence that dolphins, elephants and even magpies pass the test.
The so-called rich interpretation says that those who pass the test are self-aware. The lean version says that the test tells us little: "any animal that manages to avoid bumping into things, or biting itself in a fight" has the ability to distinguish self from non-self. Suddendorf lays out the arguments, but favours neither.
Regardless of interpretation, he says, the fact that humans and some primates pass, while others fail, tells us something. "The potential for mirror self-recognition evolved between 18 and 14 million years ago in the shared ancestor of hominids... We do not know what this creature looked like, but it is likely to have known what it looked like."
Fascinating, but neither here nor there when it comes to explaining the gap. So Suddendorf segues into what he thinks are the key differentiators. The most obvious is language. Despite Alex the talking parrot, or Koko the gorilla and Kanzi the bonobo – both of whom were trained to produce and understand signs – it is clear that human languages are a world apart from anything animals seem to have achieved.
Suddendorf sounds a note of caution in asking: "Are we merely biased because we have not fully deciphered what birds, monkeys or whales are saying?" But he also answers the question: most animal vocalisations seem to be under emotional, not cognitive, control. Human conversation involves reasoning about what others know, desire or believe; animal communication does not. "Human language is exquisitely capable of representing meaning that goes beyond the here and now," he writes. And language, unlike animal communication, seems tailored to understanding the minds of other humans.
- New Scientist
- Not just a website!
- Subscribe to New Scientist and get:
- New Scientist magazine delivered every week
- Unlimited online access to articles from over 500 back issues
- Subscribe Now and Save
If you would like to reuse any content from New Scientist, either in print or online, please contact the syndication department first for permission. New Scientist does not own rights to photos, but there are a variety of licensing options available for use of articles and graphics we own the copyright to.