apes and anthropomorphism

I often recount the following event noted by the biologists Christophe Boesch and Hedwige Boesch-Achermann. It stars the chimpanzee Brutus at Tai National Park in the Cote d’Ivoire, West Africa.

A young female chimpanzee, Tina, was killed by a leopard. Her body lay in the forest. Twelve of Tina’s companions sat silently around her body, sometimes touching it gently. Brutus, the community’s alpha male, sat with Tina for nearly five hours. When youngsters approached, he shooed them away, with a single exception — Tina’s younger brother Tarzan, who came near, pulled on his big sister’s hand many times, and gazed at her body.

We know, thanks to decades of field research uncovering aspects of chimpanzees’ minds and emotions, that careful anthropomorphism is appropriate here. Working in context, it makes good scientific sense to conclude that Tarzan felt grief for his sister, that Brutus was able to recognize Tarzan’s bond of affection with Tina and that Brutus chose to act upon that knowledge by compassionately allowing Tarzan to do what other youngsters could not.

A skeptic would balk. Maybe Tarzan was only curious about why his sister’s body lay so still. Perhaps Brutus had noticed some kind of connection between the brother and sister, but had no deep motives for what he did.

Science needs skeptics in order to stay true to its self-correcting nature. I can’t emphasize enough, though, the relevant weight of cumulative knowledge about chimpanzees. A new source to consider is Andrew Westoll’s The Chimps of Fauna Sanctuary. Westoll tells the stories of 13 chimpanzees, once trapped in biomedical testing facilities and now living in a Canadian sanctuary run by Gloria Grow.

One chimpanzee’s tale seared itself into my mind. Westoll writes about Tom:

“For more than thirty years, he was repeatedly infected with increasingly virulent strains of HIV, went through numerous hepatitis-B studies, and survived at least sixty-three liver, bone marrow, and lymph-node biopsies. Tom has gone through more surgeries than anyone else at Fauna — by Gloria’s estimate, he was knocked unconscious at least 369 times.”

Upon arrival at the sanctuary, Tom readily complied with verbal instructions that enabled staff to care properly for his foot injury. When offered a tray of antibiotic cream and other supplies, Tom even treated his own wound. Later, Westoll recounts:

“The chimpanzee Regis sustained a bad bite wound. At first, Grow treated him, but when Regis’s strength returned, that option was no longer safe. She then left for Tom all the medical materials on a trolley; Tom cleaned and treated Regis’s wound for a week.”

With the skeptic’s help, we might dismiss Tom’s behavior toward Regis as a product of curiosity or boredom, or as a conditioned response to human praise. Yet is it so hard to believe that Tom, who himself had suffered badly, might clean Regis’s wound because he realized Regis’s discomfort and wanted to help?

Wide discussion of Westoll’s book could sustain the summer’s ape buzz well into autumn. Along the way, we might ask this question: Does a reluctance to assign human depth to chimpanzees’ thoughts and feelings make it easier to tolerate what’s done inside biomedical labs in this country to chimpanzees like Tom?