Evidence from Sapolsky for quasi-sociopathy in baboons, part 1

Here are some notes on Robert Sapolsky’s ‘A Primate’s Memoir’ (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Primate%27s_Memoir), which was published two decades ago.
 
This book cannot be cited as a formal reference because it is a semi-fictional work (as clearly stated by the author in the Acknowledgements, and in contrast with e.g. Hans Kummer’s book, which is far more literal and precise, https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691628929/in-quest-of-the-sacred-baboon and https://www.amazon.com.au/Quest-Sacred-Baboon-Scientists-Journey/dp/0691603367).
 
Sapolsky’s book is engaging. However, as a report on biology, much of it has to be taken in context.
 
Sapolsky does not actually discuss the biology of baboons in much depth, the book being largely about human behaviour (the title of the book is a clever play on this ambiguity). However, what he does tell us about baboons is worth heeding because he did, after all, get to know certain individuals intimately over virtually their whole lives.
 
I present various points in no particular order, below.
 
Sapolsky’s treatment of the predation regime affecting Papio anubis (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olive_baboon) in the Serengeti Ecosystem seems incoherent. I remain puzzled as to how a monkey survives in such open environments, with so many large predators. Sapolsky sheds no light on this either explicitly or implicitly. This is a problem, because one cannot understand baboons without this framework. (For example, see the second-last paragraph on page 15).
 
On page 16, Sapolsky nicely debunks the outdated assumption that the males of the group are gallant heroes, defending all their charges from predators. His observations over decades taught him that a given male will generally only defend those juveniles he thinks are his own (with puzzling exceptions. e.g. see bottom of page 19, re Joshua). So, the overall dynamic w.r.t. predators remain mysterious.

Sapolsky goes into the myth of the heroic male defending the group in detail on pages 238-9 – while at the same time describing a vivid exception to this rule.
 
On page 17, Sapolsky nicely describes the puzzle of classism among females of P. anubis.
 
What shines out virtually every time Sapolsky describes anything to do with his baboons is their (to me, astonishing) individual variation. Not only do their various personalities stick out like sore thumbs, but it almost seems that they are more, not less, individually idiosyncratic than humans.

I do not think Sapolsky exaggerates this aspect. Monkeys really are as individual as we are, and this complicates generalisations to the degree that almost anything one writes about their quasi-sociopathy can be challenged by exceptions. The individuals are all recognisable by their behaviour as well as their appearance. Furthermore, as Sapolsky saw time and again, one can even recognise a particular individual’s offspring by inherited features such as ‘flat foreheads’ (page 98). See details on individual variation on e.g. pages 102-3 and 173-4 and 233-4 and 238-9.
 
What is even more interesting is that, in Sapolsky’s experience, some individuals are so inferior that one wonders how such traits persist despite the razor of natural selection. For example (see page 99), the male Nebuchanezzar was "mean, stupid, and untalented...only one eye...bad posture...never made a friend...just bullied everyone...never went anywhere in the hierarchy...as a prime-aged male, there were still a lot of occasions where he could throw his weight around, and he invariably did...excelled at kidnapping...Nebuchanezzar was an inveterate kidnapper...Nebuchanezzar would instantly set upon and chase and pummel some screaming female until he’d wrested her infant away...one day Nebuchanezzar broke the infant’s arm while flailing for her...she has limped ever since...why did Isaac take the strategy that we recognize as being such a ‘nice’ one, while Nebuchanezzar behaved in a manner that was vicious and rotten? ...all I can conclude is that Nebuchanezzar was a shit on some fundamental level. And during 1980, the troop would have agreed heartily."
 
On pages 99-100, Sapolsky discusses kidnapping = hostage-taking, and the evolutionary paradox is poses. In his experience, sometimes the probable-father ‘kidnaps’ what is likely his own infant, to prevent it being kidnapped by other males in the middle of a quarrel. Complex, but my point is that this does not sound overall like paternal behaviour to me.
 
At the bottom of page 24, Sapolsky clearly describes an unambivalent case of rape (exceptional but true in this species, and all the more interesting because the female concerned was a few weeks pregnant at the time (see page 96).
 
See page 41 ff: it is interesting that, when Sapolsky started to anaesthetise males by darting them surreptitiously, the males quickly learned the game and became ever more devious and vigilant in their game with Sapolsky to avoid or delay being drugged and rendered unconscious. The implication, which I am sure Sapolsky would agree with, is how intelligent baboons are; they really were more or less his intellectual and strategic match in this game.

However, what Sapolsky does not discuss is the first question that came to my mind: how come these males, which Sapolsky acknowledges were in many cases close to hooligans and thugs, did not take to attacking him to solve the problem?

This reveals something fundamental in the psychology of baboons, but Sapolsky does not address the question.
 
In the middle of page 43: far from sharing the flesh obtained by hunting, males of P. anubis "are unbelievably aggressive fighting over a kill" (and in this case, as is true typically, the impala was not even killed and continued to scream throughout the proceedings, risking attraction of the spotted hyena, which Sapolsky does not seem to have considered).
 
On page 50, Sapolsky mentions that the skin under the baboon’s fur is "surprisingly white", the implication being of the contrast between this and the ‘black’ skin of the face, ears, hands, feet, and ischial callosities. It strikes me that a possible function of this lack of melanin in the skin under the fur is that, in the short periods of exposure to the sun during grooming, the skin is able to synthesise vitamin D without getting sunburned. (The question, which nobody seems to have asked, is why all of the skin of baboons is not dark.)
 
On page 95, Sapolsky states that "baboons are endowed with long, vengeful memories". My point (apparently unnoticed by Saposky) is the anomaly between this kind of intelligence and how it is used (i.e. not for reciprocal altruism, something that relies on memory). Has ever clearly pointed out that baboons have long memories when it comes to grudges, but not so much when it comes to favours – something that would support the notion of ‘quasi-sociopathy?
 
On page 97, Sapolsky writes about "the rare baboons that manage to establish friendships".
 
Sapolsky is realistic about the nasty nature of baboons, in human terms. Readers will see this in little sentences, sprinkled through the book, e.g. on page 100: “Among baboons, when the going gets tough, the first thought is to find someone else to pay for it.”

Sapolsky explains this in terms of "displaced aggression". However, but my point is that this sort of habitual behaviour would be sociopathic, and certainly immoral, if it occurred in human societies. We humans do, of course, ‘take it out’ on each other. However, this seems far more normal and ‘accepted’ in baboons. There seems to be no justice associated with it, nor any comforting of victims as occurs in chimps. This is surely a prime reason why Sapolsky, after all his intimate years with P. anubis, has not grown fond of the species (although he loves it as the biologist and empathetic human that he is).
 
On page 104 Sapolsky, mentions an anomaly. Males will form temporary coalitions to unseat the current alpha-male, ganging up to six-strong to do so. However, they seem so woefully inept at actually cooperating with each other in this endeavour that they do not nearly make the most of this numbers-game. I read between the lines that baboons are so poor at teamwork that the coalition-approach works almost despite the ganging-up rather than because of it. He says "I can’t conceive that the six had it together enough to have a strategy. Baboons are simply not up to that". Do readers see how remarkable this is, in the middle of this great intelligence and this intense politicking?
 
And again on page 169, in similar vein: "Male baboons are not renowned for their self-discipline. Or their capacity for gratification postponement, or their communal spirit. Or their trustworthiness, for that matter. The wonderfully cooperative junta that had overthrown Saul lasted all of a morning before it disintegrated into factionalism and both metaphorical and literal backbiting...male baboons, of any rank, rarely lead troop progressions or, to state things more accurately, are rarely followed. They don’t know what they are doing..." That Sapolsky saw fit to make generalisations like this is noteworthy, given the individual variation among males. This individuality seemed to extend to all aspects of their personalities, although Sapolsky does not state this.
 
On page 107, Sapolsky describes how the African man Thomas had an uncanny ability to attract violence by the African savanna buffalo, and how he survived life-threatening attack after attack, as if it were nothing special. Most of the time, I do not mind Sapolsky's liberties with the facts for dramatic effect, because he is a good story-teller, managing to maintain credibility despite exaggeration and fictional license. However, he does not seem to be a naturalist beyond a fairly narrow spectrum, and in many places in the book dismisses ungulates as being unworthy of interest. The disregard for the truth that is implied in his account of Thomas’s interactions with the bovine is unfortunate; there is so much that he has missed here by lapsing into teenage-boy mode in recounting these tales, and this is one part of his book where I would far have preferred Hans Kummer’s scientific soberness and precise language. I would have preferred this whole section, amusing as it is, to have been omitted from the book, because it is biologically worthless. Nobody needs to hear more exaggerations and hyperbole about the relationship between the African savanna buffalo and the human species, when this biologically fascinating matter has already been so confused.
 
(By the way, Sapolsky also lapses into teenage-level nonsense on the topic of the drinking of blood by the Maasai. His yarn here lacks all credibility (e.g. he simultaneously claims that the Maasai are ‘protein-starved’ on page 118, which seems absurd).
 
I read between the lines that Sapolsky did not bring to awareness the puzzle of why no individual baboon ever teaches any other individual anything. He just seems to have lacked a search-image for this.
 
On page 236, Sapolsky inadvertently makes a significant observation w.r.t. the relationship between grooming and the control of parasites. As I have previously mentioned, grooming in monkeys is ambivalent. While it no doubt does control parasitic invertebrates, it seems excessive for this function, and is presumably done partly for other reasons (e.g. social lubrication for its own sake). Sapolsky mentions that one male newcomer, Absolom, was "covered with skin parasites" when Sapolsky anaesthetised him. This was after what sounds like months of no grooming during his male-debut in the group, when all others largely ignored him. So, here we have an experimental result that grooming is necessary for control of fleas, lice, ticks, etc.. However, I wish Sapolsky had discussed this explicitly, because over his decades he must surely have anaesthetised other male individuals in similar circumstances. Readers are not told about the results, and are left with only an empty anecdote.
 
Sapolsky (e.g. page 237) is clear on the fact that, although males have great influence in the groups, it is usually the case that nobody misses them when they die or leave. This is another implicit example of quasi-sociopathy which I wish Sapolsky had made explicit. Do readers see the anomaly: that such intelligent and socially complex primates (with long memories) have so much going on with males, but neither the females nor the other males even seem to notice, let alone grieve, when an influential male is subtracted.

to be continued in https://www.inaturalist.org/journal/milewski/68177-evidence-from-sapolsky-for-quasi-sociopathy-in-baboons-part-2#...

Publicado el julio 4, 2022 10:34 MAÑANA por milewski milewski

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An aspect of the biology of baboons, consistent with the theme of parental indolence and quasi-sociopathy, is that food is never given to juveniles from the capacious cheek-pouches into which food is stuffed.

Cheek-pouches occur in various mammals (monkeys, rodents, platypus, koala), and in some species are developed to an extreme degree (e.g. in chipmunks the full cheek-pouches can equal the body in volume).
 
On the face of it, cheek-pouches would seem like an idea way to provision offspring, i.e. for a parent to bring home food to dependent juveniles.
 
However, one of the remarkable aspects of the biology of cheek-pouches is that few, if any, mammals actually use cheek pouches in this way. It seems that the rule is that cheek-pouches are used selfishly rather than generously – even towards the individual’s own offspring.
 
This applies, as far as I know, to the Cercopithecinae, a subfamily containing baboons and many other genera and species of Old World monkeys in Africa and Asia. These have well-developed cheek-pouches, but seem not to use these to give any food to young. As far as I know, baboons are incapable behaviourally of donating food from cheek-pouches, even if a juvenile is starving, and its own parents are potentially in a position to feed it.
 
I suspect that in certain rodents there is a behavioural repertoire of parental care via using the cheek-pouches to bring home food for the offspring. This may even, in a few species, extend to fathers.
 
Is it true that, in certain species of rodents, the parent (possibly including the father) feeds offspring by collecting food in cheek-pouches, transporting the food thus to the offspring, and then disgorging some of the contents for consumption by the offspring?
 
If so, there are two remarkable aspects of cheek-pouches in mammals, w.r.t. the provisioning of offspring. Firstly, that so few mammals use their cheek-pouches in this way; and secondly, that these are rodents rather than monkeys. The latter would be surprising. Monkeys are so ‘evolutionarily advanced’ that they might be expected to provide for their offspring in this relatively complicated way. Yet, no monkey does this, and the only mammals that do perform such a service for their offspring seem to be certain rodents, which have brains far smaller, relative to body size, than those of monkeys.

https://books.google.com.au/books?id=o4CB89wYLeMC&pg=PA232&lpg=PA232&dq=which+rodents+bring+food+to+their+young&source=bl&ots=ybaPj2eUVk&sig=LrujvKDUDzrlbvn9w8UsiForzgs&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjho_SK7dzLAhWl5KYKHenSCfMQ6AEIKDAC#v=onepage&q=which%20rodents%20bring%20food%20to%20their%20young&f=false

Publicado por milewski hace casi 2 años

 Here are notes from ‘My Friends the Baboons’, by Eugene Marais (1939).
 
This book (https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/43303205-my-friends-the-baboons) is outdated and subjective, but retains useful information.

Easy to overlook is the special circumstance in which Marais did his fieldwork. Owing to the Boer War, this part of the Waterberg (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waterberg_Biosphere) had been deserted, making this group of the chacma baboon relatively fearless of the human species. At the same time, human control of the leopard had been relaxed too, with the result that the leopard was extremely common at this location during the time of Marais’s study.
 
Page 29: “Individual anatomical differences also occur much more frequently in baboons than among any other animal species. This variation among individuals made it possible for us to know every single member of our tame troop [which contained about 300 individuals] within a short time – something which could never have happened with any other animal.” Marais devotes a whole page to individual variation of personality on pp. 62-3. Although I doubt Marais’s assertion that other mammals are less individually variable, this text really does corroborate Sapolsky and others, confirming how easy it is to recognise individuals and their personalities after relatively brief acquaintance, in baboons.
  
On page 61, Marais states that the chacma baboon, although extremely playful while growing up, does not play as an adult. This claim has stood the test of time.
 
Pages 71ff: information relevant to my topic of rock hyrax vs baboon (https://www.inaturalist.org/journal/milewski/66984-a-comparison-between-rock-hyraxes-and-rock-wallabies-part-1#):
 
“What always surprised me, in comparison with the great interest which baboons at the homestead displayed in young animals, was that our troop in the mountains seldom made any attempt to get hold of little mountain animals, although there was ample opportunity to do so. The troop must often have had the chance of catching small buck, rock rabbits [hyraxes] and hares, and yet, with one exception, this never occurred. The baboons simply took no notice of the [hyraxes] – almost as little as the [hyraxes] found anything in the baboons to disturb them. On a few occasions we saw one of the troop frightening [hyraxes] asleep in the sun by suddenly jumping between them from a height. Two other males had the habit, when the opportunity occurred, of throwing stones and rubble at the [hyraxes], but we never saw an attempt to catch one.”
 
Page 95: “There is nothing that makes a baboon so nervous and shuddering as having something sticky on its hands. It was a regular joke to hand out honey to the members of our tame troop and then to watch the dance that followed as they tried unavailingly to clean their hands by rubbing them together. Finally, they would rub their hands violently in the sand. Despite their cleverness, our troop had never learned to use water for this simple purpose.”
 
Marais, e.g. on pages 52 and 55, lapses into subjective musings about parental devotion and selfless protection of juveniles from predation – which now seem scientifically void.
He discusses at length the social structure of his study-group. However, this is obviously biased by presupposition.
 
The way to read Marais’s book is with a clear discernment of fact from interpretation. Marais does cite many instances of fact that he observed for himself (e.g. a noteworthy case of males attacking a leopard on a ledge, and a noteworthy case of males being out and about even on the darkest night, during a drought when many juveniles died from what sounds like a deficiency in vitamin C). However, wherever Marais ventures into interpretation, he tends to mislead.

Publicado por milewski hace casi 2 años

Sapolsky's account of competition for prey in anubis baboon turns out to be unreliable:
 
I went back to pp. 42-4 of Sapolsky’s ‘A Primate’s Memoir’ to check what he wrote about males of the anubis baboon robbing each other of prey. The result is so confusing that this whole anecdote is best just discarded.
 
He describes the impala predated as ‘small'. A better clue to its size is that the male baboon he darted carried the impala at a sprint to shelter inside a small thicket of spiny shrubs, the entrance to which was only one foot diameter. It then entered, carrying the impala through this tiny opening. Since males of the anubis baboon weigh only about 25 kg, I take it that this impala was an infant at the hiding stage, probably < 10 kg.
 
Sapolsky claims that the reason why the males did not kill the impala outright is that ‘impalas are usually too big for a single death bite to the neck’. However, it should be easy for a male baboon to kill the infant impala by slashing its neck. Instead the impala continued to scream for minutes on end, never being killed until it was eventually torn apart.
 
Sapolsky states ‘males are unbelievably aggressive fighting over a kill’ and describes how the melee in question involved hectic and continued chasing, wrestling and robbing by a total of five individuals, all mature males. The competitive frenzy continued for 30 minutes after Sapolsky joined the darted individual baboon and the impala inside the shrubbery. Sapolsky’s own screaming and gesticulating, soon after the melee started, did nothing to deter the attempted gang-robbery (or, strangely, to get him killed as a competitor).
 
On close reading, the whole thing sounds like fiction; I don’t know which parts to take seriously.
 
Let us assume that the story is exaggerated, but has a grain of truth  based on observation of several related incidents. If so, it seems that a) males of baboons do after all compete hectically and in sustained fashion for a kill, even as small as an infant of the impala, b) there is no biting repertoire to kill even such a small and vulnerable prey animal (which is itself remarkable, and worthy of explanation), c) even in such a murderous frenzy, the males are somehow inhibited from attacking a participating man, and d) there is no respect for possession in this species of baboon, even among males with their murderous, deterrent teeth.
 
Do readers see why I prefer Hans Kummer’s sobre style of reporting? Whatever Sapolsky experienced never needed any embroidering in the first place; it would have been all the more fascinating if recounted in a strictly factual way.

Publicado por milewski hace casi 2 años

Update on understanding role of adult males in protection of group against predators in baboons:
 
After further reading, I am clearer on the relationship between social structure and anti-predator defence in baboons.
 
The anthropocentric myth: the group has several gallant heroes who defend the females and offspring from predators in an altruistic and, if necessary, self-sacrificial way.
 
The reality: males defend themselves and their nearest kin, particularly those juveniles they think they have fathered. In the hamadryas baboon, they can be sure of such paternity. In savanna baboons, paternity is seldom certain. However, the likelihood that a given individual male will jump to the defence of a juvenile seems proportional to the likelihood of paternity.
 
So, there is nothing particularly selfless about this pattern. Male baboons react to predators in a selfish way except that they do bother to defend their own offspring. The only thing that really complicates this, apart from the usual element of unpredictablity/variation that occurs in animal behaviour, is the possibility that, owing to their inherent belligerence and hooliganism, males may in some instances relish defending themselves from a predator even if they are not particularly endangered. I.e. a given individual male of a certain type of personality may take the presence of e.g. a leopard as a ‘red rag to a bull’, and may go out of its way to attack the predator. In some cases, this may seem like altruism towards some juvenile (an example is recounted by Sapolsky).
 
If readers accept my interpretation of the facts above, then what is puzzling about this?
 
The first puzzle is ‘why have baboons not evolved to be less selfish and more altruistic in anti-predator defence’? After all, mature males are double the body mass of females, have incomparably larger canines, and have the interests of the collective at heart inasmuch as they are extremely social animals. Even a mammal as dumb and rudimentarily gregarious as the musk-ox (Ovibos moschatus) has the capacity to team up in anti-predator defence, rather than pursuing a solitarily selfish tactic. It does not seem too much to ask that the male baboons show some social solidarity in these situations, does it?
 
My answer lies in just how amoral baboons are, for animals of such social complexity and versatility.
 
The second puzzle is 'why have such large and self-sharpening canines evolved, as part of extreme sexual dimorphism, in baboons?'. Most sexually dimorphic organs of male rivalry are not so lethal in their design. If these teeth are not for anti-predator defence on a social scale, why are they so extreme?
 
My answer: one cannot understand male-male rivalry and combat in Old World monkeys without understanding the sophistication of the psyche of such brainy animals. Baboons take macho fighting to a new level, in analogy with humans, who have extremely powerful weapons with little intention to use them.
 
The latter point, that baboons have ‘over-evolved’ in terms of their macho weaponry, would SEEM to suggest that it is EMPATHY that holds the male back from inflicting terrible slashes every time he has a quarrel with another male. But I suggest the opposite dynamic is at play here: that self-interested rules, and that the ‘nuclear deterrent’ of the canines leads to a kind-of hard-wired pattern of restraint which would not occur in e.g. ungulates. Just like humans, baboons have invented truly terrible weapons, which seem like overkill. But unlike humans, there is little pity, mercy, or consideration of the antagonist’s point of view. Self-restraint is, I suggest, enacted purely amorally.

Publicado por milewski hace casi 2 años

Verdict on respect for possession of prey in baboons:
  
After further reading:
 
In baboons, there is no clear rule when it comes to the occasional prey captured for the ‘carnivorous’ component of the baboons’ diet. Except for this one: clearly, under no circumstances will an individual baboon ever share animal prey.
 
As for ‘respect for possession’, the pattern is so inconsistent that we cannot really say much about it. Sometimes even a female individual can retain the prey item (e.g. a hare) she has caught, despite half-hearted attempts to rob it by her ‘husband’ (in the hamadryas). At other times, we have a five-male free-for-all in which there is prolonged and violent contestation for possession (as recounted by Sapolsky if we are to believe his anecdote).
 
So I think the ‘respect for possession’ is a red herring, essentially irrelevant. What is important is that the treatment of prey items shows clearly that baboons are incapable of giving any item, and incapable of sharing food actively. Even sharing food passively (e.g. an alpha male allowing a consort female to take a corn cob from under his arm) is conditional to the degree that there is not necessarily any altruism or generosity.
 
As far as food is concerned, it is clear that BABOONS ARE NOT GENEROUS. And we need not quibble over any hypothetical ethic of respect for possession. Contestation for possession of prey is unpredictable, in line with the intelligence and individual variation in baboons.
 
There are two things about predation by baboons that I find ‘quasi-sociopathic’. The first is the callous cruelty: prey is never killed before being eaten alive bit by bit. The second is the utter lack of generosity, or even reciprocal altruism, in sharing an item of prey that only crops up occasionally as a bonus that just seems ‘made to be shared’.

Publicado por milewski hace casi 2 años

Framing the lack of empathy in baboons in a way the lay reader can relate to:
  
I have previously offered the storyline that an infant baboon breaks its arm and rushes back to the parental embrace, only to find that the mother – although loving the infant as usual – makes no noticeable accommodation for this serious injury. Indeed, to all intents and purposes the mother does not even seem to notice the injury. Readers can relate to this because nobody doubts the basic maternal devotion of baboons, and everyone knows how a human mother would react if her infant had a broken arm.
 
Here is another storyline, framed along similar lines.
 
Two brothers grow up playing hazardous games with each other for their first five years. They risk their lives together, and survive together. Later in life, they find themselves both in the same group. This is either because they have emigrated to the same new group and established their credentials there (savanna baboons), or by remaining where they were born, and establishing families within the same clan (hamadryas baboon). They know each other’s personalities intimately. However, once they reach maturity, they act no closer than superficial acquaintances. They hardly look directly at each other, they compete for mates, they threaten each other with fang-baring yawns, they avoid touching each other, and they do not even groom each other, let alone play together. Embracing is out of the question in even the most poignant circumstance. Their most intimate interaction is, when quarrelling, for one of the brothers to turn around and present its posterior to the other brother as a token invitation to mount. This is a conciliatory gesture no more friendly than the gestures every adult male uses to keep an uneasy peace with unrelated rivals. What this means is that the only time they touch is when one of the brothers is ‘humiliated’ into an effeminate gesture of a 'sexist' society. The fraternal relationship is demeaned to this crude para-sexual parody, for the sake of remaining so near and yet so far within the group. What were once brothers playfully braving the world together are now, in their prime, effectively strangers emotionally. They are so fearful of each other that their most effective placations are enacted, in moments of acute mutual distrust, by devolving the fraternal bond, and even the commonality of gender, to self-efface by mimicking the female of the species. One expects an empathetic understanding between these brothers, but their kinship now seems to count for nothing.

Publicado por milewski hace casi 2 años

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