For narwhals to suffer a Nietzsche-like psychotic break, they would need to have a sophisticated level of awareness of their own existence. They’d need to know that they were mortal — destined to die one day in the not-so-distant future. But the evidence that narwhals or any animals other than humans have the intellectual muscle to conceptualize their own mortality is, as we’ll see in this book, thin on the ground. And that, it turns out, is a good thing.
It would seem that author Justin Gregg chose the narwhal more or less randomly for the fetching cover art and title of If Nietzsche Were a Narwhal (as an Adjunct Professor at St. Francis Xavier University and a Senior Research Associate with the Dolphin Communication Project, I accept that narwhals are simply one of Gregg’s “favorite marine mammals”, even if I was slightly disappointed not to actually read about the enchanting sea unicorns in the book itself), but counterpointing narwhals with Nietzsche does make for an intriguing title and serves to underline the fact that this book is equal parts biology and philosophy. By exploring the latest research into animal intelligence, and comparing the results to what we know about the human experience, it’s hard not to share Gregg’s conclusion that human intelligence — and the undeniable harm we cause to each other and the planet through its unique powers — can be more curse than gift. If only, as Nietzche lamented, we were all as stupid as cattle — living in the moment, neither melancholy nor bored — we would have no existential angst. More cynically, as Gregg writes, “Narwhals do not build gas chambers.” This is a fascinating work of comparative biology that eventually pulls itself out of the misanthropic muck (human intelligence is capable of some good if we choose to use it that way), but when Gregg repeats a few times that there’s a 9.5% chance that humanity will be responsible for our own extinction by the end of this century, it’s hard not to default to Nietzchean nihilism. Interesting and thought-provoking (if a little bleak), rounding up to four stars. (Note: I read an ARC through NetGalley and passages quoted may not be in their final forms.)
Like most human cognitive achievements, language is a double-edged sword responsible for as much misery as pleasure. Would we, as a species, be happier without it? Quite possibly. Would the world have experienced as much death and misery had humans remained a nonlinguistic ape? Probably not. Language might generate more misery than pleasure for the animal kingdom as a whole. Language falls victim to the Exceptionalism Paradox: It is the ultimate symbol of the uniqueness of the human mind, and yet despite its wondrousness, it has helped generate more misery for the creatures on this planet (including ourselves) than pleasure.
Over the course of seven chapters that explore phenomena that we think of as uniquely human traits (not just deception but “bullshitting”, the awareness of our own eventual deaths, morality, etc.), Gregg demonstrates the limits of these traits in non-human animals, and then goes on to explain why the dumb beasts of the field and air are better off without them. In evolutionary terms, Gregg argues against humanity thinking of ourselves as the peak of creation: not only does our unique intelligence cause existential angst and genocide and climate-changing catastrophe, but we’ve been here as a species on Earth for the blink of an eye and will likely wink ourselves out — while bugs and bacteria and crocodilia continue on with their millions of years of existence unaffected by our incidental flashing in the pan. (And as our sun will eventually die anyway, none of us — collectively or individually — will matter in the unimaginably long history of the universe. Cheers.) The science writing is often humorous and always accessible — featuring quotes by Steven Pinker and Malcolm Gladwell and Greta Thunberg — and as an animal-loving scientist who rescues slugs from his driveway before taking his daughter to school every morning, Gregg mostly laments the ecological damage our intelligence has effected:
Our hankering for a snack in the twenty-first century is identical to what it was ten thousand years ago, but our complex cognition allows us to engage in activities (e.g., oil and gas extraction, mechanized farming, soil depletion) on a massive scale, which is transforming this planet into an uninhabitable shithole. Our kitchens are full of foods that come from a global agricultural-industrial complex that is fundamentally problematic to the survival of the human species.
But again, If Nietzsche Were a Narwhal isn’t all doom and gloom. By the end, Gregg concedes that human intelligence has the capability to produce great works of lasting beauty. And if we can eventually get together and decide to save ourselves, we’re capable of that beautiful act, too. The tie-ins with Nietzsche makes this different from other books I’ve read on animal intelligence (Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are?, Aesop’s Animals, The Soul of an Octopus, etc.), and it adds a valuable contribution to the fascinating conversation about our place in the universe.
