Jessica Pierce,
Psychology Today/Animal Emotions
January 2018
This essay challenges us to look again at whether animals self-destruct... If certain animals are shown by future research to be statistically more likely to self-destruct in certain environments, we may have a moral duty to change those environments or relocate those animals. This could be a game-changer.
In 2011, Chinese media reported that a bear held captive on a bile farm
killed her son and then herself, to escape from the torture of their
situation. In 2012, Psychology Today blogger Marc Bekoff wrote a post about
a burro who, after the death of her infant, walked into a lake and drowned
herself. Last year, a friend told me a story about her dog named Lucy, who
stopped eating after the death of her long-time companion Steele. Lucy died
three weeks after Steele.
Although many people are quick to brush off the question “can animals commit
suicide?” as silly, and as fantastically anthropomorphic, we ought to stop
and give the question some serious thought. Typically, the brush off is
rooted in the belief that animals are simply incapable of the kind of
self-reflective, purposeful behavior that makes human suicide what it is.
Taking one’s own life goes so strongly against the evolutionary impulses of
self-survival and requires a conscious decision to override these impulses
through an act of free will. It also requires an awareness of death. And
animals just don’t have these capacities.
This assumption goes wrong in at least two different ways: it overstates the
“free will” and “conscious self- reflective” nature of human suicide; and it
ignores a wealth of empirical evidence about the cognitive capacities of
nonhuman animals, including a growing research database on death-related
behaviors in a wide range of species.
In an article published recently in the journal Animal Sentience, David
Peña-Guzmán, a philosophy professor from San Francisco State University,
lays out a very strong case that nonhuman animals can and do engage in
self-initiated behaviors that bring about self-harm or death and that there
is no good scientific or philosophical reason to think these are different
in kind from what occurs among the human species. (The article, "Can
nonhuman animals commit suicide?", is worth reading in its entirety.) To
begin, Peña-Guzmán takes up some of the reasons why animals might not be
capable of suicidal behavior. For example, he explores whether the current
empirical database supports that claim that only humans have the kind of
reflective, self-conscious subjectivity that is thought to be necessary for
suicide. It does not. Instead, research suggests that human and animal minds
are far more alike than they are different, and that all animals (human and
nonhuman) exist along a cognitive continuum. Animals, like humans, possess
“at least three different types of subjectivity . . . [which] crisscross the
animal kingdom in elaborate and nonlinear ways.”
Peña-Guzmán also argues that “suicide” is better understood not as a single
behavior, but a broad range of self-destructive behaviors. These
self-destructive acts run along a continuum, from behaviors that are likely
strongly explained by evolutionary accounts of kin selection (wasps who
sting themselves to death after copulation) and ecological theories
(dispersal behaviors which explain the self-destruction of lemmings), to
behaviors that seem to parallel more strongly what we typically think of as
a human suicide. On this end of the continuum, Pena-Guzman offers the
example of captive animals who engage in stress-related self-harming
behaviors, such as a dolphin named Kathy who may have killed herself after
growing increasingly depressed after living her whole life in captivity.
(Kathy’s story is featured in the 2009 documentary The Cove.)
The idea that animals can and do engage in self-harming and self-destructive
behaviors, even to the point of causing their own death, is challenging on
many fronts. It upsets our folk belief that humans alone possess subjective
awareness and are qualitatively different from animals. It suggests that
animals have a level of “decisional and volitional capacities” that go well
beyond what we typically ascribe to them, and the recognition of which would
have far reaching ethical implications. For example, if an animal can
dissent from various kinds of interactions with humans, shouldn’t we find
ways to respect their choices by allowing animals to opt out of research
protocols they find painful or frightening? (Gregory Berns has done just
this with his research on the neurophysiology of dog’s brains. His research
is noninvasive, involving only the use of an fMRI machine, and his research
subjects are invited to participate and can decline participation. See his
book, How Dogs Love Us.)
If animals can engage in suicidal behaviors, this seems to presuppose some
broader awareness of death. And if animals have a concept of death, this
could have important welfare implications for captive animals. For instance,
the research done by James Anderson and his colleagues on the reactions of a
group of chimpanzees to the death of one of their group members found that
the chimpanzees displayed a suite of behaviors very much like what we see in
human groups: they checked for signs of life, groomed the body, stood vigil
over the body, and mourned for their companion. One of the goals of animal
welfare is to provide captive animals as many opportunities as possible to
engage in normal species-specific behavior, and death-related behaviors
should certainly be included.
One final question raised by Peña-Guzmán is whether captivity itself is a
risk factor for animal suicide. Some of the self-destructive behaviors
recorded in the ethological literature arise from stresses related to
captivity: self-biting, self-mutilation, self-endangerment.
“If,” he writes, “certain animals are shown by future research to be statistically more likely to self-destruct in certain environments, we may have a moral duty to change those environments or relocate those animals.”
This could be a game-changer.
Jessica Pierce, Ph.D., is the author of Run, Spot, Run: The Ethics of Keeping Pets and The Last Walk: Reflections On Pets At the Ends of Their Lives.
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