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The obvious subject of this book is animals, but the perspective is unique. Temple Grandin, a well-known animal behaviorist and autism spokesperson, applies both of those fields of expertise to the challenge of understanding how animals view the world they share with us.
There's a certain degree of speculation in what she tells us, because supporting data is skimpy. But her perspective from a high-functioning spot on the autism spectrum is fairly convincing. She experiences reality somewhat differently from most of us, and she suspects that she may have some overlap with the way animals see it.
For example, she tells us animals and autistic people share certain traits:
1) They really don't like abrupt changes (for cattle, this could include being compelled to go from bright light into a dark area, or toward a puddle with odd reflections). If left alone, animals will eventually inspect a new thing out of curiosity (learning about anything unusual is a survival mechanism), but they resist and panic when it's forced on them.
2) They notice details ordinary people do not (unless we are consciously looking for those details). We suffer from "inattentional blindness," because our frontal lobes get in the way. Higher cognitive thinking means we see the big picture but not necessarily the details that make up that picture.
She tells us "frontal lobe problems are a big part of autism." She has a fascinating speculation about disability, i.e., "Frontal lobe functions are the first to go, whether the problem is a traumatic head injury, a developmental disability, old age, or just plain lack of sleep. Worse yet, if you damage any part of your brain ... you wind up with frontal lobe problems even when your frontal lobes weren't touched." The explanation (which she attributes to a researcher at NYU) is that every other part of the nervous system is connected to the frontal lobes, so if any other part is damaged, its input to the frontal lobes is affected. "If the frontal lobes aren't getting the right input, they don't produce the right output."
Returning to the perceptions of animals, she says that beneath our massively overgrown prefrontal cortex, humans still have "animal brains" that are basically the same as the brains animals have. So (apart from the unique sensory apparatus some animals have) animal perceptions, a dog's sense of smell, for example, are at least theoretically possible for humans—and there are rare instances of humans who have this perception. Also, experts have shown that "people perceive lots more than they realize consciously." Because "your brain does a lot of processing before it allows something into consciousness." Being able to filter out distractions is usually a good thing, in that it enables us to get through our days more efficiently, but animals and autistic people don't have that ability. They can be confused, frightened, or bogged down with stimuli that really are not relevant.
Along the same line, humans make sense of what we see because we generalize. If for example we see a building from one side and later see it from the other side, we know it's the same building. On the other hand, "animals don't generalize well. ... A good way to try to get inside an animal's head, to the extent that is possible, is to be constantly asking yourself, 'How would I feel if what I were looking at right now was something I'd never laid eyes on before in my life?'" Seeing something you never expected to see can prompt some fear. That experience is usually not traumatic for us, because we automatically assign new things to existing categories. Animals, being "hyper-specific," have to deal with a "barrage of details from the environment" and are perceiving new and perhaps scary things quite often.
Most interesting to me is the author's repeated observation that "curiosity and anticipation is one of the most basic emotions." Think of the excitement of a pet that knows it's about to be fed. This "SEEKING system" in the brain starts firing when there is evidence that something desired may be at hand. Interestingly, it stops firing as soon as the desired object is attained. "Animals and autistic people are wired to enjoy hunting for food. ... They like the hunting part in and of itself. Depending on our personalities and interests, humans enjoy any kind of hunt" (e.g., shopping for bargains, researching a topic on the Internet, trying to understand the meaning of life in a captivating church message).
Beyond that, the author gives considerable attention to explanations for other kinds of animal behavior, such as aggression. She says (and it's probably true) that humans are generally at fault when, for example, we don't allow young animals to interact with one another or when we show favoritism to a dog that is not the alpha dog in a group—or if we allow a dog to get the idea his owner should be submissive to him! (On two occasions, large dogs owned by neighbors have abruptly lunged at me, barely held back by owners not really in control of them. Whatever the factors that prompted those attacks, I did not react well. I had dogs when growing up, and thought they were fine pets, but this discussion does not make me want another one. Dogs, cats, riding horses, etc. need to be socialized and made comfortable with novelty and change, and at an early age.)
Near the end, the book provides very interesting discussions on pain and (again) fear, as these are probably experienced by animals. I'm left with the impression that we assume a lot about animals (and perhaps about autistic people) that may be pretty far off-base. Maybe over time, with the help of people like Temple Grandin, our understanding will improve.
There's a certain degree of speculation in what she tells us, because supporting data is skimpy. But her perspective from a high-functioning spot on the autism spectrum is fairly convincing. She experiences reality somewhat differently from most of us, and she suspects that she may have some overlap with the way animals see it.
For example, she tells us animals and autistic people share certain traits:
1) They really don't like abrupt changes (for cattle, this could include being compelled to go from bright light into a dark area, or toward a puddle with odd reflections). If left alone, animals will eventually inspect a new thing out of curiosity (learning about anything unusual is a survival mechanism), but they resist and panic when it's forced on them.
2) They notice details ordinary people do not (unless we are consciously looking for those details). We suffer from "inattentional blindness," because our frontal lobes get in the way. Higher cognitive thinking means we see the big picture but not necessarily the details that make up that picture.
She tells us "frontal lobe problems are a big part of autism." She has a fascinating speculation about disability, i.e., "Frontal lobe functions are the first to go, whether the problem is a traumatic head injury, a developmental disability, old age, or just plain lack of sleep. Worse yet, if you damage any part of your brain ... you wind up with frontal lobe problems even when your frontal lobes weren't touched." The explanation (which she attributes to a researcher at NYU) is that every other part of the nervous system is connected to the frontal lobes, so if any other part is damaged, its input to the frontal lobes is affected. "If the frontal lobes aren't getting the right input, they don't produce the right output."
Returning to the perceptions of animals, she says that beneath our massively overgrown prefrontal cortex, humans still have "animal brains" that are basically the same as the brains animals have. So (apart from the unique sensory apparatus some animals have) animal perceptions, a dog's sense of smell, for example, are at least theoretically possible for humans—and there are rare instances of humans who have this perception. Also, experts have shown that "people perceive lots more than they realize consciously." Because "your brain does a lot of processing before it allows something into consciousness." Being able to filter out distractions is usually a good thing, in that it enables us to get through our days more efficiently, but animals and autistic people don't have that ability. They can be confused, frightened, or bogged down with stimuli that really are not relevant.
Along the same line, humans make sense of what we see because we generalize. If for example we see a building from one side and later see it from the other side, we know it's the same building. On the other hand, "animals don't generalize well. ... A good way to try to get inside an animal's head, to the extent that is possible, is to be constantly asking yourself, 'How would I feel if what I were looking at right now was something I'd never laid eyes on before in my life?'" Seeing something you never expected to see can prompt some fear. That experience is usually not traumatic for us, because we automatically assign new things to existing categories. Animals, being "hyper-specific," have to deal with a "barrage of details from the environment" and are perceiving new and perhaps scary things quite often.
Most interesting to me is the author's repeated observation that "curiosity and anticipation is one of the most basic emotions." Think of the excitement of a pet that knows it's about to be fed. This "SEEKING system" in the brain starts firing when there is evidence that something desired may be at hand. Interestingly, it stops firing as soon as the desired object is attained. "Animals and autistic people are wired to enjoy hunting for food. ... They like the hunting part in and of itself. Depending on our personalities and interests, humans enjoy any kind of hunt" (e.g., shopping for bargains, researching a topic on the Internet, trying to understand the meaning of life in a captivating church message).
Beyond that, the author gives considerable attention to explanations for other kinds of animal behavior, such as aggression. She says (and it's probably true) that humans are generally at fault when, for example, we don't allow young animals to interact with one another or when we show favoritism to a dog that is not the alpha dog in a group—or if we allow a dog to get the idea his owner should be submissive to him! (On two occasions, large dogs owned by neighbors have abruptly lunged at me, barely held back by owners not really in control of them. Whatever the factors that prompted those attacks, I did not react well. I had dogs when growing up, and thought they were fine pets, but this discussion does not make me want another one. Dogs, cats, riding horses, etc. need to be socialized and made comfortable with novelty and change, and at an early age.)
Near the end, the book provides very interesting discussions on pain and (again) fear, as these are probably experienced by animals. I'm left with the impression that we assume a lot about animals (and perhaps about autistic people) that may be pretty far off-base. Maybe over time, with the help of people like Temple Grandin, our understanding will improve.