Descartes, most famous for writing “I think, therefore I am, also wrote about the minds of animals. Roughly put, his view was that animals lacked minds, at least as he saw minds (as immaterial metaphysical thinking substances). He had two main arguments for this: first, animal behavior can be explained without such minds using purely physical explanations. So, by Occam’s Razor, there is no need to accept that animals have minds. The second argument he have is that animals do not use true language and this is the surest sign that they lack minds.
Descartes was well aware that clever animals, like dogs and horses, could learn various tricks and that all animals can make noises to express feelings. However, he held that these facts did not show that animals think.
In recent years, researchers have begun to accept what dog folks have known since humans started having dogs as pets: dogs are smart. For example, research has revealed that dogs can recognize the use of a pointed finger. While recognizing what a pointed finger means (“that”) seems simple enough, it actually requires fairly advanced cognition. The intent of the action must be understood and the object of the action (what is pointed at) must also be recognized. This sort of sign seems to be more abstract than a direct physical gesture, such as a display of anger or joy. As such, this sort of interpretation requires fairly impressive communication skills.
Dogs, as all dog folks know, are very good at conveying their feelings and desires. They are also quite good at understanding words and can have rather complex vocabularies. For example, my husky can distinguish between numerous words and phrases and react accordingly. She also has various vocalizations and behavior that make it clear what she wants or seems to be thinking at the time. While this might be dismissed as mere habituation, even habituation that complicated would require some significant mental horsepower.
While dogs do not use true language, they certainly seem to have a rather good grasp of our use of language as well as our gestures. Because of this, I am inclined to regard dogs as having minds, albeit less complex than those of most humans (of course, I believe that my husky is smarter than some humans). Unlike Descartes, my view is that having a mind is not a “you do or you don’t” sort of thing in all cases. Rather, minds seem to come in varying degrees. Of course, what the mind actually might be is something that is still under considerable debate.
I recall a period spent with people with severe learning difficulties. It was part of some training I was undertaking. One person struck me as undermining the idea that mind was some sort of unitary entity or phenomenon. Basically this person was capable of making quite astute observations of people but was incapable of some of the simplest tasks, such as taking the top off a bottle to get at its contents. If we only saw her giving forth on her observation we would say she had an insightful mind. Had we only seen her with the bottle we would say her mental capacities were severely impaired and would perhaps be moved to say that she exhibited little mind like behaviour.
Does someone with a unusual capacity for mental arithmetic exhibit a good mind. But then we realise in a wider context they can hardly function. Is having a mind a collection of equally distributed capabilites, or is mind a collection of what I think Fodor called modules? If it is then maybe we are “mentally” like dogs in some respects and they like us (in some respects).
The worrying idea is that humans may be so unlike one another as to be a different sub species. It has been argued by some Psychiatrists that people with illness such as schizophrenia are, “stranger than the birds in the treess” (A pronouncement of Karl jaspers).
Whatever one might want to say reluctantly about the difference that are highlighted in schizophrenia, some are moved to distance themselves readily from psuchopaths or paedophiles in this species way. So does mind simply cover over differences? If so then canine mind is like our mind but then it isnt because mind does not really stand for anything definite at all.
Dogs are great. Haven’t had one of our own for the last five years. Dog-sat for 10 days recently – a handsome boxer. Alas, dumb even by animal standards.
But even at that, if I could find one that knew how to clean up after itself I’d adopt it immediately.
Think of ‘mind’ as a verb rather than a noun and you can get the feel of how dogs and all organisms ‘mind’. We can instantiate logic. Dogs demonstrate no, yes, maybe, envisage the future. My dog’s guilty conscience lasts as long as it takes to pass behind the couch, his bad dog place, and emerge into a room of magnanimous forgiveness. Dogs know mind.
My reply to Dave J L in respect of the topic “Turn for the Wurst” seems to have some relevance here. So for what it is worth here it is.
Dave J L:
Some interesting points are raised here, which I do think deserve consideration. One of my post grad dissertations dealt with the question of conscious states in animals. It finally all boiled down to stating that conscious states peculiar to the animal, do exist. However there is something it is like to be an animal and something it is like to be a human and one will never be able to experience conscious states across the species, other than one’s own, conscious state. I am sure however that whatever the organism, its conscious state has evolved, and accordingly functions in its survival. In this connection it seems reasonable to assume that there are substantial similarities between ourselves and other animals. The phenomenological consciousness of physical pain being one. What would be the point of testing analgesics on rats if the assumption were not made that they are valid models for human pain.
I think that the psychological prospect of impending death by execution after a period of torture is probably far worse for a human than an animal, which may not have the cognitive acumen to make and dwell on this this prospect. However animals certainly can suffer psychological trauma. We are all familiar with case of the ill treated dog, which cowers and trembles in the presence of its tormentor. If I accidentally tread on my cat’s paw she screams loudly shaking the injured limb and regarding me with apprehension and her ears back. This is a similar reaction a human might make whose friend for no reason suddenly slaps him in the face. There is however far better and vast empirical evidence for animal consciousness than this somewhat anthropomorphic example.
I am sure there are substantial similarities in both animal and human distress and if this can be reduced or even eliminated in the preparation of animals for human consumption, then the problem must be addressed.
Vagaries of philosophical mind:
“if I could find one [dog] that knew how to clean up after itself I’d adopt it immediately.”
The ongoing project for rehabilitating dogs as being ‘smart’ or just like us, or even, ‘not so stupid’, is interesting. As an old philosophy lecturer of mine used to say, it often tells us more about the person doing the rehabilitating than it does about dogs. Dogs, very simply, like being dogs. They don’t want to be human, and only pretend to be if they are rewarded by their owners to do so. Oh, and I have owned many dogs, and worked with dogs as a shepherd, and I can tell you that dogs do not follow your finger to where you point it – they follow where your eyes are looking!!!