Anthropomorphising Animals - Helpful or Harmful?

By now, you must have heard the jarring news that the BBC have made the radical decision to cancel Autumnwatch. I’m not gutted, honestly. This definitely was not a formative piece of broadcasting that helped to reinforce my love of British wildlife. Cutting costs completely makes sense(!)

The reaction has been wholly negative, aside from the Countryside Alliance, who have come out to welcome the decision, on the basis of the show’s ‘unrealistic and anthropomorphic approach’. This statement, whilst likely being designed to stir controversy, has in fact raised an interesting quandary that’s had nature lovers and scientists lock horns over the years. An unspoken undertone to an otherwise shared passion. Should the natural world be personified?

On the surface, this debate is pretty petty with a clear cut answer. There is nothing damaging about giving animals a personality. We do it all the time with our moody cats and and erratic dogs, what’s so wrong about admiring a feisty canada goose or a nervy grey squirrel? That’s genuinely what they are. Humans naturally communicate with one another both verbally and via emotional cues, so it makes sense that we’d imprint those same cues when trying to read animals. Adding a human quirk to your garden visitors won’t endanger them in any way. Your partner won’t get jealous if you go on about how beautiful the local robin is (hopefully). It’s not a crime, so you’re surely fine.

To contrast the feelings of the heart with that of the head, the opposition to this notion is that of distancing our wild world from society. The stock phrase that riles up biological science purists, that stems from Autumnwatch and its compatriots, is ‘cute’. This otherwise positively reinforcing phrase is arguably belittling and ranks certain animals alongside human babies and household pets. To grade a species as adorable is to discern respect and make it practically synthetic. By painting a picture of idyllic cuddly creatures living in harmony, you contradict all of the work of behavioural biologists. Millions of years of a species’ evolution, only to be compared to puppy or a doll. Our planet’s organisms are subject to scrupulous science, both for their and our own benefit. Studying them must be done within the bounds of professionalism, without delving into the dangerous waters of assumption. By anthropomorphising, it muddies the water between reality and fiction. Do birds sing for joy? Do young carnivores play fight for the vibes?

To quickly answer these potentially theoretical questions: Yes, and no. A study showed that some bird species have two types of song, a purposeful one and a rehearsal. This second type of song was found to produce opioids in the bird’s brain, a positively reinforcing chemical. Whereas play has widely been studied and linked to vital behavioural development in young animals. There isn’t enough evidence to suggest that such play results in ‘joy’, but it’s probably a stretch to label it as a fun activity.

The human race desperately wants everything on Earth to align with the same way of thinking. If we could talk to our cars and our houses, we would. The enigma of not being able to understand nature is beyond baffling, so adding relatable attributes is an evident coping mechanism. If we want to get philosophical, the two tribes at war likely disagree as to whether modern Homo sapiens are a part OF or APART FROM nature, which is a debate that has raged on for decades. It broadly depends on what flavour of anthropology that you’re into. Of course, more agricultural, industrial and exploitative brains want the great outdoors at arms length, whereas devout environmentalists strive to embrace and nurture it instead.

Is it immature to personify wildlife? A fair consensus is that younger outdoor explorers are susceptible to seeing animals in a fluffier and more characterful light, but this is hardly a negative. There’s not a single grown birdwatcher, ecologist or conservationist that was solely fed on a diet of Attenborough documentaries and journals. Bright colouring books, joyous animated films and interactive displays at zoos all help to spark a passion. Whilst leading children down the perceived slippery slope of anthropomorphism, it sets them off on their journey, filling a void that may have been consumed by another hobby. Without a sprinkling of poetic licence, wildlife wouldn’t be half as fun.

Shall we get to the point? The art of anthropomorphism gives the otherwise silent world of animal behaviour some tangible sound. It fosters a connection not too dissimilar with how we’re brought up to make friends. In the case of Autumnwatch, it’s attempting to present what is widely perceived to be a bland subject, whilst adding a bit of spice. The point of the series is to breakdown the barrier between the public and its surrounding wildlife. Call it crass or unethical but it’s trying to appeal with as wide an audience as possible. Strachan may put on a gushy front, but anyone who actually watches the show will know it’s also peppered with some insightful modern science. It isn’t all a flora and fauna love-in.

Should I anthropomorphise? My answer, do what you like. If you want to name your local badger, just don’t forget it’s a wild animal that mustn’t be interfered with. If you want to revel in the positivity of birdsong, don’t let any stiff-nosed know-it-all ruin that fun. Nature is of course something to analyse scientifically, but no one’s stopping your imagination run wild, if that’s what bonds your connection to it. It’s not a firm answer so… sorry if you wanted one!

(If you want to save Autumnwatch, I think there’s a petition. Up to you though.)