Photo by lapolab
For years, an organism's cranial capacity was the gold standard for determining intelligence in humans and animals. Though this proved helpful for paleoanthropologists looking to discern different species of hominids, cranial capacity took a deeper, darker turn when the method was used in efforts to create biological races. Fortunately, this passed relatively quickly with discoveries in genetics. Then came encephalization quotients and a slew of other ratios...
Fast-forward several years to the birth of the functional MRI (fMRI). The fMRI quickly became a hot tool in neuroscience because researchers could see which parts of the brain become active to certain stimuli. In one case, researchers boast a computer/fMRI combo that literally guesses specific words a person is pondering while in the fMRI machine.
Though these experiments are important, I sometimes feel the results are viewed in a vacuum of reductionism. If one study states that the frontal cortex is active during lying; therefore, the frontal cortex is where lying comes from, right? The same logic has been applied to certain aspects of animal intelligence. The cerebral cortex is linked to consciousness and complex thought. In a nutshell, that's where we should turn to measure these two qualities, right?
Not necessarily.
As pointed out in Jeffrey Kluger's article in TIME, some of the animal kingdom's most advanced tool users lack the same complex cerebral cortices as humans or other mammals. Members of this species even display "theory of mind," or an individual's ability to understand that not everyone knows what he knows. No one knows your preferences, knowledge and beliefs unless you share them with someone else. For instance, if you hide money under your mattress, you assume that you're the only person who knows about it. Kluger points out that some species possess theory of mind without the brainy hardware:
Pointing isn't the only indicator of a smart species that grasps the theory of mind. Blue jays — another corvid — cache food for later retrieval and are very mindful of whether other animals are around to witness where they've hidden a stash. If the jays have indeed been watched, they'll wait until the other animal leaves and then move the food. They not only understand that another creature has a mind; they also manipulate what's inside it.
Generally speaking, I understand and support the need to pinpoint the behaviors and emotions linked to brain structures, but I think grossly reducing this research isn't right. Far too many people simplify this scientific information because the manner in which it's presented is simplified too. Sometimes the information is further reduced for the sake of testing -- we all remember that multiple-choice question in Psyc101 that asks which emotion is associated with the amygdala. (Hint: don't let your amygdala get the best of you!).
This way of thinking greatly disservices the nuances of human and animal cognition. Instead, I agree with a newer way of approaching the brain -- one that values the haphazard power of evolution. NPR's series "The Human Edge" featured an interesting article on the topic that portrays the brain as a mishmash of primitive "ice cream scoops." Our brains are the results of millions of years of evolution piled on top one another. In some cases, animals survived with a "deal with what you get" brain system -- just like blue jays exhibit some level of theory of mind without a cerebral cortex.
If we shed this reductionist line of thinking -- who knows, maybe we'll be more sensitive to other ways of measuring emotion and intelligence in animals. With the growing evidence of animal culture, I certainly believe a more flexible paradigm is needed.
Maybe then I won't be surprised to hear that the persistent fruit fly I've been trying to catch all day is scheming against me.
