Ever wondered how much of a 'person' your pet truly is? It’s a question that’s both heartwarming and unsettling, and Justin Gregg’s Humanish dives headfirst into this fascinating—and often controversial—territory. But here’s where it gets even more intriguing: Gregg doesn’t just explore our tendency to humanize animals; he dissects why we do it, what it reveals about us, and whether it’s a force for good or a recipe for disaster.
In the 1970s, a former Soviet naval officer named Igor Charkovsky made waves with his bizarre concept of dolphin-assisted birth. Inspired by New Age ideas, he encouraged pregnant women to swim in the icy Black Sea, bond with dolphins, and even give birth underwater. His bold claim? That newborns could one day live among dolphins, nursing on dolphin milk. Sounds like science fiction, right? Yet, as Gregg reveals, Charkovsky’s ideas weren’t just a fleeting fad—they endured in both Soviet and Western cultures, a testament to our enduring fascination with blending human and animal worlds.
Gregg’s book is a double-edged sword: a celebration of anthropomorphism—our habit of projecting human traits onto non-humans—and a cautionary tale about its pitfalls. Whether it’s animals, AI, or even God, we can’t help but see ourselves in everything around us. Gregg, an expert in animal cognition with a knack for improv, navigates this complex terrain with wit and wisdom. He borrows from 17th-century philosopher Francis Bacon, who likened human understanding to a 'false mirror' that distorts reality by blending it with our own biases. And distort we do—turning dolphins into soulmates, dogs into Freud’s patients, and iPhones into companions.
Take, for instance, the trend of dog owners implanting 'neuticles'—prosthetic testicles—into their neutered pets to spare them the 'shame' of castration. The UK’s Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons dismisses this as unnecessary, yet it persists, a stark example of how we impose our insecurities onto our pets. Gregg’s exploration hit close to home when he questioned our assumptions about cats. As someone whose cat is deeply woven into my family’s emotional fabric, his gentle probing of feline cognition left me reeling. Are we all just playing a game of make-believe? From naming our cars to gendering God, it seems Charkovsky’s 'derangement' was merely a matter of degree.
Anthropomorphism has long been a dirty word in animal behavior studies, but Gregg argues it’s not all bad—if used thoughtfully. The late primatologist Jane Goodall championed its judicious use, urging us to let intuition spark curiosity rather than jump to conclusions. Yet, Gregg also warns of its dangers. Take the 1977 anime series Rascal the Raccoon, which inspired thousands of Japanese families to import raccoons as pets. Unaware of their biting habits and destructive tendencies, they unleashed an invasive species that still wreaks havoc on native wildlife today. Is our love for animals blinding us to reality?
Where Gregg truly shines is in his exploration of non-human cognition. His insights into reptiles, for example, challenge our assumptions. Research shows crocodilians engage in play and form social bonds—a far cry from their villainous portrayal in wildlife documentaries. Gregg advocates for a Pascalian approach: better to assume animals can suffer than risk causing harm by denying it. However, he draws a firm line between animals and AI, arguing that tools like ChatGPT lack the biological basis for consciousness. But here’s the controversial part: If AI can mimic human thought so convincingly, does it matter if it’s 'real' consciousness? Gregg’s repeated use of 'hard-wired' to describe the brain, as Siri Hustvedt notes, blurs the line between humans and machines—intentionally or not.
The irony is palpable: as we learn more about other minds, our urge to project onto them only grows. Gregg sees anthropomorphism as a product of separation—a phenomenon less relevant in indigenous cultures that view humans and animals as kin. In an age of dwindling wildlife and increasing isolation, perhaps our humanizing tendencies are a cry for connection. Charkovsky’s ideas may seem absurd, but they’re a mirror to our own desires. So, what do you think? Is anthropomorphism a bridge or a barrier? Gregg leaves us with a question that’s as thought-provoking as it is divisive. Let’s discuss—are we giving animals too much credit, or not enough?
