Frans de Waal Changed How We Think About Animals, Ourselves Included

Quarrelsome, Sure. But Not Killer Apes

(Illustration: Rebecca Clark)

De Waal came to believe that his chimps lived according to a loose system of favors given and received, what evolutionary biologists called reciprocal altruism. The idea that primates may have evolved for this sort of altruism also gave de Waal the means to counter one of the most pervasive concepts in modern biology. In his influential 1976 book, The Selfish Gene, Oxford evolutionist Richard Dawkins argued that we are little more than a product of our genes and that these genes have survived by being as ruthlessly competitive as Chicago gangsters. This became one of the most misinterpreted ideas of the 1980s and 1990s and, like “survival of the fittest” in the age of the robber barons, helped to rationalize an era of flamboyantly selfish misbehavior. In fairness, Dawkins didn’t intend it that way. “Let us try to teach generosity and altruism,” he wrote, “because we are born selfish.”

The animal who first made de Waal see the importance of cooperation was a big, lumbering old female chimp named Mama with an “enquiring and all-comprehending” gaze. She once broke up a fight between two warring males by embracing them, one in each arm. Another time she went up to a screaming male and put her finger in his mouth, a gesture of reassurance. Then she turned to his rival and called him over for a kiss, after which the two combatants embraced.

“These males are very tense and they’re dominant and strong and aggressive,” says de Waal. “So to step in and bring them together is a risky business. To me, it means that she cares about relationships in her community. Chimpanzees have something like ‘community concern.’ They live in a group and they have to get along, and their life is going to be better if their community is better. That’s the selfish motive. But this is also the basis of our moral systems: Our life will be better if our community functions better.”

“She’s a very mischievous, troublemaking chimp.”

Below de Waal’s tower at that moment, Bjorn and Socko are embracing like old pals. It is feeding time, and the Yerkes staff often serves a meal in two or three bundles, to study how factors like friendship or rank affect the tricky business of sharing food among the 20 or so chimps in the compound. So the moment is fraught with excitement and anxiety. Much as two humans declare their good intentions with a handshake–a literal clasping of weapon hands–the chimps make obvious gestures of nonaggression. Bjorn is allowing Socko to gnaw on the back of his wrist, and Socko is letting Bjorn mock-bite his shoulder. They slap each other on the back affectionately and dance up and down. Then Bjorn, Socko and Klaus, the three top males, join together in a huddle. It is not quite grace before dinner. But it is not all that different either. The chimps are so intent on defusing the tension of the moment that they completely miss the first round of sugarcane and don’t seem to care.

Lest this display of community concern seem a little too rosy, de Waal points out another character in FS1. “Georgia’s over here,” he says, indicating a 15-year-old female indistinguishable to a newcomer from all the other females. “She’s a very mischievous, troublemaking chimp.” One of Georgia’s favorite tricks as a youngster was to run to the spigot and collect a mouthful of water when she saw visitors arrive at the FS1 compound. Then she would mingle among the other chimps, lips sealed, doing her best to look like a dumb ape, a blind actor. If the unwary visitors eventually came close enough, Georgia gleefully squirted them, to general shrieking and laughter from the other chimpanzees.

Since Darwin first suggested it almost 150 years ago, the human connection to animals, and particularly animals like Georgia, has often seemed like an affront to our dignity. For some religious denominations, it was an assault on the doctrine of human supremacy. But when de Waal talks about the primates he has known, it seems reasonable to take comfort in the connection. Beneath the veneer of civilization, we humans are not necessarily killer apes, nor have we evolved to be as ruthless as Al Capone. We are simply social primates, endlessly working out the business of living together. It is difficult business because, like chimpanzees, we are a quarrelsome species.

But if de Waal is right, peace may also come to us more naturally than we imagine because of our long evolutionary history of empathy, reconciliation, cooperation and morality. Even that reprobate Georgia shows signs of reforming. She is a mother now herself and eager to fit into the give-and-take of the community. She has figured out that the man in the yellow tower wields some influence in her world and greets him lavishly, if only for strategic reasons. She no longer spits at guests. She is still not a perfect lady, just a pretty good chimp figuring out how to get along in her world. It is easy to understand why de Waal calls such creatures family.

©Richard Conniff