Anthropopathy and the art of projection
Donna Williams
April 14, 2006
My husband and I were driving down the road when we saw two parrots by the side of the road, one alive, one dead. We were quickly struck with sadness for the living parrot obviously mourning its parnter. But the next morning, the thought was still nagging me. How the hell did we KNOW the living parrot was mourning? How did we know whether this was our own fanciful, if not arrogant projection? There were a multitude of other possibilities.
The living parrot may have smelled something (the dead parrot) and gone to see what it was. The dead parrot may have become infected with maggots which the living parrot may well find akin to worms and equally edible. The living parrot may have been annoyed at its parent for not continuing to feed or teach it. It may have been the first time the living parrot had encountered a death of something like itself and was curious about this 'strange sleep'. It may have considered the dead parrot absurd for choosing to sleep in such a public place, on the ground, when it had always know it was safest to sleep away up high, equipped to quickly escape. It may have been considering the dead parrots feathers for a new nest.
Anthropopathy is the projection onto non-humans the qualities we associate with humans. Religious people do it all the time, projecting human thoughts, feelings and reasoning onto 'God', not too differently to what we'd done with the parrot.
Temple Grandin, an expert in designing cattle chutes for meat farming who is diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, recently wrote a book in which she reasoned not only an array of human-like thoughts and feelings onto animals but then extrapolated that this explained or summed up the sensory responses of people with autism. Whilst not a zoologist (the equivalent of a psychologist applied to animals) Ms Grandin's extensive experience (for which she has a PhD) in agricultual animal handling; the stuff of animal reproduction and herding captive farmstock for the purpose of human consumption may have given her at least a captive audience to study. Of course, any anthropologist knows, a paticipant observer has to at least put to the side their own biases about what they wish or expect to see in order to be open to the vast possibilities of what might be there, far outside of one's assumptions. What would she have made of the parrots, I wonder.
People on the autistic spectrum often have very rigid thinking. They think in terms of what they already believe or wish to see. Don't most people to a degree? But psychotic people have been thought to have such expansive thinking that it becomes difficult for them to narrow it.
Ms Grandin is the engineer (hence the specialisation in designing cattle chutes), the scientific mind. I'm also on the autistic spectrum, diagnosed in adulthood with autism. But mine is the mind of an artist, an anthropologist, a surrealist. I struggle with conscious thought and hence have little idea what I think, perhaps a good platform from which to merely observe without seeing what's convenient, comfortable, logical to see, to think outside of the box because I struggle to experience a box in the first place.
As for the parrot. Humans have not one set of experiences, motivations, perceptions, feelings, thoughts and impulses. I'm going to assume the parrot had a whole range of wrestling ones, weighted differently, some of which would come forward more quickly than others, and that the parrot's behaviour isn't going to tell me anything profound about any one group of people but might re-confirm my belief in mystery and wonderous diversity.
Donna Williams
BA Hons, Dip Ed
author, artist, advocate
www.donnawilliams.net
The living parrot may have smelled something (the dead parrot) and gone to see what it was. The dead parrot may have become infected with maggots which the living parrot may well find akin to worms and equally edible. The living parrot may have been annoyed at its parent for not continuing to feed or teach it. It may have been the first time the living parrot had encountered a death of something like itself and was curious about this 'strange sleep'. It may have considered the dead parrot absurd for choosing to sleep in such a public place, on the ground, when it had always know it was safest to sleep away up high, equipped to quickly escape. It may have been considering the dead parrots feathers for a new nest.
Anthropopathy is the projection onto non-humans the qualities we associate with humans. Religious people do it all the time, projecting human thoughts, feelings and reasoning onto 'God', not too differently to what we'd done with the parrot.
Temple Grandin, an expert in designing cattle chutes for meat farming who is diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, recently wrote a book in which she reasoned not only an array of human-like thoughts and feelings onto animals but then extrapolated that this explained or summed up the sensory responses of people with autism. Whilst not a zoologist (the equivalent of a psychologist applied to animals) Ms Grandin's extensive experience (for which she has a PhD) in agricultual animal handling; the stuff of animal reproduction and herding captive farmstock for the purpose of human consumption may have given her at least a captive audience to study. Of course, any anthropologist knows, a paticipant observer has to at least put to the side their own biases about what they wish or expect to see in order to be open to the vast possibilities of what might be there, far outside of one's assumptions. What would she have made of the parrots, I wonder.
People on the autistic spectrum often have very rigid thinking. They think in terms of what they already believe or wish to see. Don't most people to a degree? But psychotic people have been thought to have such expansive thinking that it becomes difficult for them to narrow it.
Ms Grandin is the engineer (hence the specialisation in designing cattle chutes), the scientific mind. I'm also on the autistic spectrum, diagnosed in adulthood with autism. But mine is the mind of an artist, an anthropologist, a surrealist. I struggle with conscious thought and hence have little idea what I think, perhaps a good platform from which to merely observe without seeing what's convenient, comfortable, logical to see, to think outside of the box because I struggle to experience a box in the first place.
As for the parrot. Humans have not one set of experiences, motivations, perceptions, feelings, thoughts and impulses. I'm going to assume the parrot had a whole range of wrestling ones, weighted differently, some of which would come forward more quickly than others, and that the parrot's behaviour isn't going to tell me anything profound about any one group of people but might re-confirm my belief in mystery and wonderous diversity.
Donna Williams
BA Hons, Dip Ed
author, artist, advocate
www.donnawilliams.net
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