One of the reasons that I really value behaviorism both in humans and other animals, is the emphasis placed on the fact that we can’t know the internal life of anyone else. Trying to know how and what someone else is thinking is futile, we can only control how we respond to their overt behavior.
I don’t worry whether my animals love me, I love them and when they’re eager to interact with me, I know I’m a reinforcing presence in some way. Their precise internal emotions aren’t something I can know; I can only know how they respond to me and change my behavior if the reaction is negative. If Midori loves me, great! If he just trusts me and thinks I’m a good resource for snacks and scritches, also great!
Humans have the benefit of being able to better communicate their inner world to others through language, but language is still a behavior. I’ve always been really nervous about how others feel about me and tend to overthink social interactions, and the realization that I can only respond to others behaviors was really freeing. If someone doesn’t want to interact with me, I can only know that when they tell me. If they don’t tell me, worrying about it isn’t really useful; so I may as well work under the assumption that they don’t secretly hate me, until they tell me otherwise.
So it just really pisses me off when my learning professor writes something like:
The first sentence can be a true statement: she doesn’t believe we learn the same way. But then she shifts from sharing her personal beliefs to offering it as a widely accepted fact. But it’s not a fact.
I am not arguing that we think or learn exactly the same way, but there’s no way to empirically prove that another animal is NOT able to think “abstract, complex thought[s].”
Like Frans De Waal, an important primatologist, discusses in his book, Are we smart enough to know how smart animals are?, differences in cognition are probably a gradient like differences in anatomy across taxonomic groups. Grouping it as humans vs. all other animals (not to mention research into plant cognition…) is so odd to me, when it seems obvious that humans and chimps would be far more similar in cognition than chimps and sea slugs.
And De Waal’s other really good point is that when we do an experiment on animal cognition and the species fails: it’s really hard to know if they’re incapable of some cognitive task, or if we’re just bad at designing an experiment to test that particular species (see De Waal’s tool use in primates example). We might be able to prove another animal can do something, but we cannot prove they are incapable of something.
“Humans are capable of more advanced, abstract thought,” is an impossible statement to prove because we’ll probably never know what goes on in a finch or goldfish’s brain. So why even bother worrying about it? It just feels like an inferiority complex where human learning theorists need to know what makes humans special and unique so they make wild unsubstantiated claims to reassure themselves.
Isn’t the fact that we’ve created things no other species has, enough? Why do we need to believe that other species are missing some divine spark? I just think we won the evolutionary lottery and got here first. If crows had figured out pockets and dolphins had hands, we’d be screwed.














