The title had me excited, the dedication to Frans de Waal as the author's mentor moreso. Unfortunately the rest was a letdown that I ended up skimming, and the more I skimmed the more I skipped. There were several issues.
Unfocused thesis and prose
This struck me first. Everything feels like it was written for a short pop science article - or possibly the introduction to a book, since those are often stylized differently from the main text. That distinct stylization is generally done to ensnare the reader's attention with a sprinkling of interesting facts, and sketch out the themes of the book. In good nonfiction those facts and themes will then be expanded upon significantly in the main text, with sustained narrative attention given to each idea, and chapters organized as building blocks according to their corresponding stage of development of the main thesis. One thing this typically means in practice is that chapters become progressively harder to understand without reference to the ones preceding them.
There is however a trend of catering nonfiction to readers who prefer magazine-style vignettes and short articles that share only loose thematic association, so that chapters can be read in any order. That's this book. The result felt less like reading successive chapters about a central thesis, and more like reading a dozen prologues in a row, each for a different book whose main text I'll never actually see. I find this style maddeningly unsatisfying and usually avoid such books, but this one slipped through the cracks.
The prose also lacks focus and needed another round of editing. For example the book is full of parenthetical statements that don't clarify anything but do bog down the narrative flow:
'I immediately became curious about whether the underlying motivations for the behavior were also shared. Coincidentally (or perhaps not at all), I ended up writing my doctoral dissertation on this topic some years later.'
That parenthetical and its containing clause should've been removed. Not a big deal in isolation, but the book is full of these, and their gradual accumulation is how the prose gets that 'fluffy' feeling, like the literary equivalent of eating potato chips. There are simply too many words present for the complexity of ideas and information being conveyed.
Inconsistent and incorrect arguments diminish an important premise
Agreeing with a book's premise, but seeing constant flaws in its logic? It stings. This book stung me a lot.
There were many minor inaccuracies, like when Webb says 'Indigenous groups have been experiencing their own apocalypses for decades'. Benefit of the doubt says she meant to write 'centuries' and her editor didn't catch the slip. However these mistakes don't actually impact the book's central premise, so I won't dwell on them.
The major issues tended to be linguistic in nature, as when Webb critiques several words from colloquial English 'describing the natural world as a commodity whose ultimate purpose is to be used and managed by humans'. Many of her examples are apt, like 'livestock' as a euphemism for animals raised to be slaughtered and eaten by humans. However at one point she critiques the word 'freshwater' as a similar euphemism for 'rivers', which is simply wrong.
Pretending anthropocentrism exists where it doesn't
The word 'freshwater' is a critical descriptor in nearly every branch of science; it is intended for contradistinction against 'saltwater'. The difference between these two kinds of water determines everything about Earth life and ecology, about the planet's climate and atmosphere and geochemistry, about the kinds of physics that can happen in each based on differences in water conductivity, buoyancy, phase transition points, and other physical parameters. The term is, in fact, a basic description of the most fundamental properties of our world.
It is not a matter of human supremacy infiltrating language. A whale won't thrive in a freshwater lake nor a pine tree in a saltwater one; this is true regardless of whether humans know about either whales or pine trees, or whether humans exist at all. Webb's 'freshwater' example is sloppy logic, which occurs repeatedly throughout this book. And sure, all human languages convey intrinsic ontological bias towards humans by virtue of existing for human use, but that's not the point Webb was going for here.
A similar ontological error occurs when she criticizes the phrase 'nonhuman animal' as an example of 'human exceptionalism', elaborating: 'Given that the vast majority of life on earth is not human, this term is like calling a human a non-chimpanzee or a chimpanzee a non-grasshopper! "Non-" groups millions of species together by an absence, by their failure to conform to the human archetype.'
This is non-sense. Calling a human a non-chimpanzee (or a 'non-chimpanzee animal', to stick to the originally posed formulation) would be perfectly reasonable if you were discussing humans alongside all other non-chimpanzee animals and doing so in contradistinction to a specific trait of chimpanzees! Like, "No non-chimpanzee animals preferentially dine on colobus monkeys." (I don't know enough about chimpanzees or colobus monkeys to know if this is actually true - and I will not even venture a guess about analogously appropriate grasshopper facts because my entomological training is zero - but you get my point.)
This is precisely how the phrase 'non-human animals' tends to be used - for example, by saying that no non-human animals have occupied all geological niches on Earth and low-Earth orbit, too. This is an ecologically important fact about humans in contradistinction to non-human animals, one which does not imply or depend upon any 'failure to conform to the human archetype'. The phrase is practical shorthand for a phylogenetic distinction, not euphemizing shorthand for a moral or philosophical one. To avoid it in technical contexts would be misguided; you'd just be making longer or less precise sentences for yourself for no coherent reason.
In fact, 'non-human animals' is such a helpful phrase that I'm going to be substituting it into several locations throughout the remainder of this review, in contexts where Webb originally refers to 'other animals' and leaves the reader to infer the object of contradistinction.
Projecting hierarchical human linguistic constructs onto animals
Webb makes another kind of compound linguistic error in this book. For all that she rightfully draws parallels between human supremacy over non-human animals and supremacy of specific humans over other humans (like racialization), she seems unaware that she's enacting the same process in reverse when she quotes as a 'promising sign' Jane Goodall's formal request to use gendered pronouns for non-human animals:
'When gender is known, the standard guidance should be, she/her/hers and he/him/his, regardless of species. When it is unknown, the gender-neutral they, he/she, or his/hers should be used.'
Not to get too technical here, but hell no. Gender is not sex. You cannot tell an animal's gender by looking at it. This is true for all animals including humans, but at least with a human you could theoretically ask their gender, or make a guess based on relevant cultural signals. We don't know enough about the genders of non-human animals to make those decisions for them. As someone who's been mistaken for every possible gender throughout my life, I can attest that most people (including biological scientists) don't even know enough about human genders to correctly guess those.
It sounds like what Webb is actually endorsing here is to automatically assign gendered pronouns to non-human animals based on their observed sexual characteristics. But conflating that concept with gender reintroduces the same ambiguity that the word 'gender' in its non-linguistic sense was coined to distinguish in the first place!
But if sex isn't gender, let's back up to what gender actually is: A cultural construct that varies from society to society, differing vastly across place and time, which conveys cultural information and expectations about a person, generally tied to sexual features such as genitalia and sex chromosomes. These gender expectations define the social propriety of that person's clothing choices, perfumes, level of eye contact, body language and other mannerisms, vocabulary, vocal tone, terms of respectful address, eligible schooling and career paths, duties at work and home, right to speak or vote or fight or drink alcohol, eligible romantic partners, marriage customs, literacy, property ownership, legal and religious status, and so on. Most importantly, gender is not a universal concept at any given time, and it is not a stable concept in any given place.
When carried out in humans, conflation of sex and gender constitutes a kind of biological determinism or bioessentialism that frequently denies the actual genders of the people involved. This is often violent, debilitating, socially repressive, or even deadly. If we are to avoid human exceptionalism as this book proposes, surely we should adhere to the established human distinction between sex and gender, regardless of which sort of animal we're discussing?
Obviously, the delimiting of gender expectations generates many opportunities to enact deeply iniquitous hierarchies based on a nonconsensually imposed gender binary (or trinary, in some cases). Undoing and moving past that legacy is the whole point of feminism. And here we have the author of a book about human exceptionalism celebrating a proposal to impose this same baggage onto non-human animals!
Webb in particular should already know better: Frans de waal, her mentor to whom this book is dedicated, wrote an entire book on the topic of animal gender that was published three years before this one, saying much of what I've said here. Yet Webb seems wholly incurious to explore this conflict of opinion further, despite having gone out of her way to broach this complex and messy topic in the first place.
Lack of linguistic self-awareness in a book about species self-awareness
Webb admits that her perspective in this book is a Western one, but she doesn't seem to have considered similar implications when it comes to the linguistics of gender. In conjunction with the Goodall quote from earlier, she strongly advocates that non-human animals should not be referred to as 'it' because 'we would never deem it appropriate to refer to another human being as "it"', so we should avoid the double standard.
But I happen to know Webb's premise is completely false because I speak some Finnish. This is a language in which the most commonly spoken singular third-person pronoun for another human being is none other than 'se', which literally means 'it'. Turns out I prefer the Finnish language for exactly this reason, because as mentioned earlier I've had many people confuse me for incorrect genders, which is a serious problem - and one that mostly disappears in Finnish, because I'm not being pointlessly misgendered every other sentence.
As for the second-most common singular third-person pronoun in Finnish? Well that would be 'hän', which literally means 'they'. Once again, I find this superior to Webb's insistence on an outdated and inadequate English-centric model in which 'they' is reserved only for groups of people, or for individuals of indeterminate gender.
Regarding those English staples of 'he' and 'she', Finnish has no equivalent for either one. Every human being is 'they' or 'it'. I vastly prefer all of this to English, which is part of why I think Webb's plan to formally impose English gender standards onto the entire animal kingdom is a really bad idea without much serious thought behind it. Because if we're talking about not treating ourselves as exceptional, a moment's reflection on the linguistic possibilities available among all existing human languages will show us that an English obsession with unnecessarily gendering every individual in every sentence is not a necessity, that in fact entire societies, nations, and linguistic groups get along just fine without it.
For the record, Finnish is not even the only language that omits gendered third-person pronouns. Have fun looking up the others!
I'm so weird
There's one more point to address before we leave linguistics behind. Early on, in a well-meaning attempt to highlight various forms of cognitive bias, Webb implicitly situates herself and possibly the reader as members of the WEIRD people, which she defines as 'Western, educated, industrialized, rich, and democratic'. The thing is, though, I don't think she's really thought this acronym through before using it here. Western educations are hardly the only kind, and it's pretty insulting to imply otherwise as this acronym so casually does.
Furthermore, this is an acronym invented by liberals, who certainly do love to think of themselves as the experts on democracy. But liberalism and 'liberal democracy' are not synonyms for 'democracy' generally, but rather for 'capitalist democracy' specifically. Under capitalist democracies it is impossible for the average person to legally wield any political or economic power, because the average person is a worker, not a capitalist. A worker has no more power under a democracy of capitalists than a capitalist would've had under a council of lords at the height of feudalism. Should those capitalists have called themselves lords because they may have been in the room when royal proclamations were made?
There does exist a much more democratic form of democracy, one that is much more likely to be of use to any reader of this book: A workers' democracy, or what we commonly call 'socialism' or 'communism'. And this brings me to my final point about this book.
Capitalism is the central problem
Early on Webb states that human exceptionalism 'fuels our collective inertia and disempowerment in the face of unsustainable growth and production - trends that, though relatively recent, appear inevitable. People assume these are powerful forces that we can't possibly counteract. Corporate greed and deception, capitalist economics, and a lack of political will certainly play an outsize role. But we don't just need an overhaul of these institutions; we need a new relationship to the world. The process of building and sustaining that relationship does not proceed entirely from the top down. It can be enacted only by individuals who are motivated by another vision and experience of what the good life might be, who can reimagine this richer relationship and are already bringing it into being.'
This is a great start; I agree with nearly all of it, for it is nearly all the sort of thing a communist would say.
My worry is that Webb is downplaying the central and historically unique role of capitalism in driving forward all extant ecocides, by several orders of magnitude compared to all prior human economic systems.
If we as humans are to care deeply about our non-human relatives, that must start with preventing their extinctions, and this in turn must start with ending capitalism. Nothing on this planet that we care about will survive - including ourselves - if we fail to eliminate capitalism and build socialism. Our planet's situation is so dire it is genuinely difficult to exaggerate. We are, after all, in the exponential ramping phase of this planet's sixth mass extinction, and we have been placed here unequivocally and exclusively by capitalism. For all the good intent of Webb's book, it does not even come close to capturing the material urgency of the situation, nor does it even name the necessary material solutions - specifically, socialism and communism.
Authors like Webb need to name these names, just as they need to shame capitalism and its buddies, liberalism and fascism. Otherwise it's just vague hopes and vibes. To worry about speciesism without prioritizing the dismantling of capitalism is like worrying about dying of a disease while a stick of dynamite runs down its fuse on the floor right next to you.
A final example to drive the point home. At one point Webb says: 'Yet Indigenous communities today are understandably cautious about the misappropriation of their cultural concepts and ideas. As just one example, plants are now being taken from the Amazon and patented by pharmaceutical companies without compensating the local Indigenous peoples who have contributed vital medicinal knowledge about them.' As if the problem is misappropriation or a lack of compensation, rather than the rapid extraction and extinction of all life from this planet under capitalism, its commodification of the sacred, its patenting and hoarding of what is taken freely and inconsiderately from the world, all for the sake of making utterly meaningless numbers go up for the powertrip playtimes of genocidal capitalists.
Final thoughts
Two stars for the author's general good intent and some interesting facts, ideas, and anecdotes. A third star for the importance of the topic matter and because she genuinely cares about it. If she works on the issues I've described in this review I'll look forward to reading her next book without skimming.
As it stands, I'd say this book is worth reading if you are either learning about speciesism and human supremacy for the first time, or if you absolutely cannot get enough of the topic. Otherwise you probably won't find much here that's new or developed enough to really be useful. For a stronger but longer intro to these topics, I'd recommend working your way through Frans de Waal's catalogue - forward or backward doesn't really matter, it's all good. Webb's choice in mentor was impeccable.
For an introduction to the material emergencies of capitalism that I think Webb critically fails to highlight in this book, read The sixth extinction by Elizabeth Kolbert, The Jakarta method by Vincent Bevins, and The capital order by Clara Mattei. For an intro to the systems needed to reach for a better future, I recommend Red star over the third world by Vijay Prashad and Red deal by Red Nation.
Now I've spent more time writing this review than I did reading the book, so hopefully someone out there finds it useful.