No animal has allowed itself to be so intelligent as to destroy the entire planet a hundred times over with the push of a single red button at the fingertip of some loony. (Source: Illustration: Mithun Chakraborty)
While talking about animal intelligence, avid animal lovers will shake their heads in admiration and incredulity when they hear of any animal’s amazing intellectual exploits, whether in the wild or under controlled conditions. Some of course, won’t be surprised: “We always knew it! They’re just so smart, only no one noticed before!” they will exclaim. Most dog and parrot lovers will swear that their pets are brilliant, with an Einstein-topping IQ. The more rational amongst us, will of course, admit that animals are smart, but slyly add the rider that even the most genius chimp, octopus, whale or dolphin in the world will still have the mental capability of a five-year-old and no more. So we’re pretty safe, what with our ability to reason, our imagination and affinity for logic (not always present), and, for abstract thinking (maths!) and so on.
Even the yardsticks measuring animal intelligence are kindergarten level as far as we are concerned. Take tool-making for example. Rather foolishly perhaps, we first said that what differentiated us from animals was our ability to make tools. Until we discovered that so do chimps, crows, sea otters, dolphins, elephants and the naked mole rat, amongst others. Sure their tools were pretty basic and rudimentary (no power tools here), but they did the job required of them. What’s interesting was that at least as far as the great apes were concerned, the ladies were the inventors, and passed on their skills to their daughters. This is because the males, in their usual chauvinistic way, usually grabbed most of the easily obtainable food, leaving the poor girls to figure out ways by which they could literally eke out tidbits, like termites and ants, from their holes, by fashioning sticks to draw them out with. Guy chimps had no patience for such things. It’d be fascinating to know if the same trend followed with our own species as we evolved.
Language and communication forms another oceanic divide between ‘them’ and ‘us’. It’s the ability to express ourselves clearly and lucidly (a declining skill these days), that’s made us what we are. Animals don’t have language and can’t read or write (though some ‘paint’). Or, at least, not languages that we can fully understand. Yet, they do get their message across. Bees, upon discovering a source of nectar, will return to their hive and do their famous ‘waggle dance’ — basically a sort of GPS dance, informing the hive where the source of nectar is, how far away and how sweet. Elephants rumble and reverberate in ultra-low frequency, sending similar messages (usually regarding availability of water and swimming pools) to herds miles away, who pick up the seismic reverberations through their massive feet. Many species of animals like squirrels, for example, have a repertoire of calls specifying, for instance, whether a threat has been perceived from the sky or the ground. Seabird moms hear and recognise their chicks’ calls amidst a colony clamour that has rock concert decibel levels. Chimps can recognise individuals in the group by their calls and dolphins call each other by name. Warning calls are recognised across species: when a predator is about, it takes just one animal or bird to sound the alarm and all other species will pick up the message, and usually join in the cacophony. And yes, there’s still a raging controversy about whether clever birds like parrots actually understand what they’re saying when they greet you with a “get lost, darling!” every morning.
Mercifully, animals have not learned to give hour-long speeches on the radio or from the ramparts of the Red Fort, or to use long-winded legalese in courtrooms, though admittedly, the dawn chorus in any forest does sound like a school playground in full recess or a talk show on TV.
The other ‘lakshman rekha’ as far as AI is concerned is self-awareness. As with tool-making, it was thought that animals were incapable of this, not being sentient beings, until experiments with chimps, elephants and dolphins revealed that, like us, they too could preen themselves in front of mirrors and examine their make-up (one chimp, I think, had famously even taken a selfie). Some of the other measures of AI include whether they are aware of what altruism is (while behaving that way), which might imply a moral sense; or, whether teamwork amidst, say a pride of hunting lionesses, is instinctive or logically plotted out. Pretty basic stuff — they’re certainly not into rocket science, genetic engineering or debating the demonetisation flop show.
So yes, it seems we are light years ahead in terms of IQ and need not feel threatened. Perhaps! But are we really more intelligent? No animal will reproduce in numbers more than its environment is capable of supporting, or despoil it. Then look at us! Not only do we do that a million times over, but we soil our own living space and complain. No animal has allowed itself to be so intelligent as to destroy the entire planet a hundred times over with the push of a single red button at the fingertip of some loony. Sorry, they’re way smarter!
PS: As the old adage maintains — of course there is intelligent (animal?) life out there in space. Why do you think it hasn’t gotten in touch with us? QED.
