Why can't we be friends?

If canines and apes can cooperate, why can’t humans?

The excellent documentary, Inside the Mind of a Dog on Netflix makes the case that dogs relate to humans because they are creatures that value cooperation. In fact, this was a surprising evolutionary development. The dogs we have come to know, value, and love, have done so as a result of their desire to cooperate. They long for connection and cooperation.

Some other species, too, long for cooperation. Bonobos are a great example. In the article Unlike chimps, bonobos offer hope that maybe we can all get along, author Ari Daniel reports on a fascinating study [Cooperation across social borders in bonobos] (https://www.science.org/doi/10.1126/science.adg0844).
The gist of the story is this. Within their own groups, chimpanzees are caring toward one another. Outside their tribe, they are violent. \

But if one group outnumbers the other, things get dark — fast. “It basically turns into physical, very violent attacks, often with the clear intention to kill,” says Samuni. “So I’m always a bit on edge during those encounters from fear that something will happen.”

This is where humanity seems to find itself right now. We are divided into tribes. We ssem to believe that making ourselves great again means isolation, threats, aggression, and self-centeredness. We are driven by survival of the fittest.

Is that the only option? A Zero-Sum Game where there are only winners and losers (think Rock-Paper-Scissors? Competition. Violence. Dod eat dog? Don’t we all lose, then? We do.

But, there is another way. Let’s return to animals.

While chimps are violent outside their groups, another ape - similar to the chimpanzee - reveals a better way. Called a bonobo, like dogs, they want cooperation. Unlike chimps, they extend their cooperation to other groups of bonobos. Those who are the best at cooperation take the lead to find the best cooperators in the other group. And, they start grooming and sharing from there on.

“For bonobos, cooperation is important because it is proof of love,” says Suzy Kwetuenda, who’s in charge of animal welfare at Lola ya Bonobo, a bonobo rescue and rehabilitation sanctuary in the DRC. She wasn’t involved in the study, but she says the new findings are consistent with what she’s observed. Among bonobos, “the most important thing is to be stable, to be in good understanding — more than everything.”

Is the wish for cooperation some sort of New Age ideal for which there is no basis in reality? I don’t think so.

Cooperation is based on one thing: trust. As with dogs and humans, there is an evolution of trust. Indeed, that’s the perfect name for it. It’s also the name for a website/program a colleague and I used in our ethics education programs: The Evolution of Trust. Players learn the mathematics of why cooperation works. Or how it doesn’t. When people take a chance, when chance evolves into cooperation, everyone wins. Even better, when we win through cooperation, it’s a win we can feel.

Bonobos are proof we can do better. The question isn’t one of the possibility. It’s one of will.

Please watch the Netflix video. Make sure to have a box of tissues.

I started to write the following drivel while discussing cooperation. Sadly, I lost my way and it turned into personal, non-sensical amusement. You should be glad you dont’t have to live with me!

As a youngster, I remember watching the television program, Lassie. At that time, Lassie was the dog everyone wanted. Every Sunday night, Lassie and his best bud, Timmy, would explore their world. Timmy was an orphan adopted by the Millers. Typical of dogs and their kids, Lassie and Timmy were examples of cooperation. Lassie lasted for seventeen seasons. After a while, I tired of Lassie. Every episode, it seemed, Dad, or Mom, or Uncle Jacob, or someone else got caught under the tractor or some other dread circumstance. Lassie would bark at them. Uncle Jacob would say to Lassie, Lassie, go get the sheriff. Lassie would bob her head several times, as if to say, Did you say Sheriff or Sharif? Uncle Jacob, drifting off into unconsciousness, with his last breaths would stammer out, Sheriff. Lassie would bob her head, still not quite sure. Then, she would set off to let the sheriff know. It was 300 miles to town though. So, by the time Lassie got there, she was out of breath. Her tongue hung from the side of her mouth. Sharif, I mean the Sheriff, pulled out his inhaler and gave Lassie a shot. Lassie, still out of breath, barely stammered out the words, Sheriff, go get the vet.

OMG… Did I really spend all that energy on this drivel??? My apologies to you, Dear Reader. I must admit to my personal amusement.