A lively, highly accessible, informative, and thought-provoking examination of what we mean when we speak of "human intelligence," how the language and concepts we use to frame questions of cognition are frequently misleading, and how animal cognition is far more like ours (and far less costly) than we admit. Rather than repeat what others have said about the book, I direct you to the brilliant and insightful GR review posted by Krista.
Let me share some general observations. Gregg begins with two key points. The first is that the word "intelligence" is largely without meaning: Despite our utter confidence in the exceptionalism of human intelligence, nobody really has a clue as to what intelligence is. That’s not just a glib statement to say that we don’t have a good working definition. I mean that we’re not sure if intelligence even exists as a quantifiable concept… If you want to highlight the slipperiness of intelligence as a concept, just ask an animal behavior researcher to explain why crows are more intelligent than pigeons. You’ll often get an answer from folks like me along the lines of, “Well, you can’t really compare the intelligence of different species like this.” Which is code for “the question doesn’t make sense because nobody knows what the hell intelligence is or how to measure it.”
The second -- the reason for the narwhal in the title -- is this: that for all the great value we assign to "human intelligence," we never ask the question of 'toward what end?': Human cognition and animal cognition are not all that different, but where human cognition is more complex, it does not always produce a better outcome.
There is a paragraph early in the book that captures, I think, where Gregg is coming from: If Nietzsche’s mind had been more narwhal-like—had he not been intelligent enough to ruminate on his impending death—his madness might have been less potent if not entirely absent. That would have not just been better for him, but also for the rest of us. If Nietzsche had been born a narwhal, the world might never have had to endure the horrors of the Second World War or the holocaust—events that, through no fault of his own, Nietzsche helped create.
"If Nietzsche Were a Narwhal" looks at how "intelligence" ("cognition" is a better term, Gregg explains) expresses in both humans and animals -- communication, awareness of time and death, norms and morality, and more. One is repeatedly struck by how similar in form, if not necessarily degree, human and animal cognition are. Yes, animals do demonstrate foresight and planning, the ability to deceive, some kind of awareness of mortality, and even an affinity for getting drunk. Along the way, Gregg explores the evolutionary ignificance such things as
Our ability to lie: As a species, humans are both wired for credulity and for telling lies. It’s that combination of traits — this bizarre mismatch between the human ability to lie and spot lies — that makes us a danger to ourselves. This discussion looks at basic lying, bullshitting, and (inevitably) the growth of disinformation and misinformation in our culture. He calls it "a firehouse of falsehood." (One might wonder if Gregg had in the back of his mind Steve Bannon's infamous and all too prescient observation about politics: “The real opposition is the media. And the way to deal with them is to flood the zone with shit.”)
Consciousness and what philosophers call "the problem of other minds." Do animals "think"? Do they think about themselves? (Surely not as much as humans do.) “Self-awareness and consciousness are not synonymous.”
"Episodic foresight," which is “the ability to mentally project yourself into the future to simulate imagined events and potential outcomes.”
Moral reasoning (not the same thing as norms): Norms, Gregg says, are unspoken rules guiding behavior and are plentiful in both animal and human communities. Moral positions, on the other hand, are “explicitly considered, evaluated, and decided upon by either the individual [or] society/culture.” We speak highly of morality, but should we? Not necessarily, according to Gregg: Human moral reasoning often leads to more death, violence, and destruction than we find in the normative behavior of nonhuman animals. Which is why human morality, as I will argue, kind of sucks.
And then there's what he calls Prognostic Myopia,"the most dangerous flaw in human thinking." Gregg characterizes it as the human capacity to think about and alter the future coupled with an inability to actually care all that much about what happens in the future. Something we see all the time, to our dismay, when thinking about global climate change and environmental degradation. To make his point, he talks about the American infatuation with lawns (“a giant middle finger to the environmental movement”). Nearly twenty percent of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Delaware, and Connecticut are covered by lawns. Lawn maintenance accounts for nearly 1/3 of all domestic water use in the US, despite the fact that most of the water never reaches the roots of the grass. Then there are the chemicals we use to make our lawns beautiful, the runoff into rivers and the oceans, the gasoline used to mow the lawns, etc. It's not that we don't know this is bad for the environment and, in the end, very bad for human existence. It's just that we just don't care. That's not how our brains work: "our minds evolved primarily to deal with immediate — not future — outcomes."
There's lots to ponder here. Lots of information, cautions, and arguments for humility, all made engaging by a decidedly informal writing style and the frequent use of humor. For readers (like me) who often find themselves skeptical about using the words "human" and "intelligent" in the same sentence, I suspect you'll find a kindred soul in Justin Gregg. One quibble I have has to do with Gregg's usage of the word "know," as in 'the dog/cat/dolphin/bee knows... Not to get all philosophical, but "knowing" has connotations Gregg might not intend. (Having finished this book, I am tempted to reread Timothy Ferris's similarly focused work, The Mind's Sky: Human Intelligence in a Cosmic Context. I don't remember it very well but I recall that I liked it a lot.)
My thanks to Little, Brown publishers and NetGalley for providing a digital review copy in return for an honest review.
A mostly but not entirely non sequitur postscript: Should you be so inclined, I encourage you to seek out a children's book called "Nothing Rhymes with Orange," by Adam Rex. One of its many delights is the reference to Nietzsche it makes. And yes, although "orange" presents obstacles to rhyme, the name Nietzsche does not. See for yourself. It's really funny for adults and a pleasure to read aloud.