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Authors: Stephen Jay Gould
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The body is massive and almost cubical; it is scarcely held up by two fat and short legs. The head is so extraordinary that one might take it for a fantasy of a painter of grotesques. This head, mounted on a thick and goiterous neck, consists almost entirely of an enormous beak . . . All this results in a stupid and voracious appearance . . . Its heaviness, which usually presupposes
strength in animals, here only produces lethargy . . . The dodo is, among birds, what the sloth represents among mammals: one might say that this bird is made of brute and inactive matter, where the vital molecules are too sparse. It has wings, but the wings are too short and too weak to raise it into the air. It has a tail, but the tail is disproportionate and out of place. One might take it
for a tortoise decked out in the covering of a bird—and nature, in giving it such useless ornaments, almost shows a desire to add embarrassment to bulk, clumsiness [
gaucherie
in the original French, almost an English word now as well, and referring literally to left-handedness] of motion to the inertia of mass, and to give the creature a gross heaviness all the more shocking when we realize that
it is a bird.
strength in animals, here only produces lethargy . . . The dodo is, among birds, what the sloth represents among mammals: one might say that this bird is made of brute and inactive matter, where the vital molecules are too sparse. It has wings, but the wings are too short and too weak to raise it into the air. It has a tail, but the tail is disproportionate and out of place. One might take it
for a tortoise decked out in the covering of a bird—and nature, in giving it such useless ornaments, almost shows a desire to add embarrassment to bulk, clumsiness [
gaucherie
in the original French, almost an English word now as well, and referring literally to left-handedness] of motion to the inertia of mass, and to give the creature a gross heaviness all the more shocking when we realize that
it is a bird.
Interestingly, only H. E. Strickland, the dodo’s most assiduous student and monographer, spoke well of the bird in his 1848 treatise. We may disdain this creature by our own standards, for even Strickland admitted that “we must figure it to ourselves as a massive clumsy bird, ungraceful in its form, and with a slow waddling motion.” But who are we to judge, when God created each
animal with optimal features for its own designated mode of life:
animal with optimal features for its own designated mode of life:
Let us beware of attributing anything like imperfection to these anomalous organisms, however deficient they may be in those complicated structures which we so much admire in other creatures. Each animal and plant has received its peculiar organization for the purpose, not of exciting the admiration of other beings, but of sustaining
its own existence. Its perfection, therefore, consists, not in the number or complication of its organs, but in the adaptation of its whole structure to the external circumstances in which it is destined to live. And in this point of view we shall find that every department of the organic creation is equally perfect.
its own existence. Its perfection, therefore, consists, not in the number or complication of its organs, but in the adaptation of its whole structure to the external circumstances in which it is destined to live. And in this point of view we shall find that every department of the organic creation is equally perfect.
But, even more interestingly, Strickland still felt that he had to find a
rationale based on inevitability, rather than contingent and preventable despoliation, for the dodo’s extinction. So he argued that species, like individuals, probably go through a determined cycle of birth, maturation, and death—and that humans therefore only hastened an ineluctable end:
rationale based on inevitability, rather than contingent and preventable despoliation, for the dodo’s extinction. So he argued that species, like individuals, probably go through a determined cycle of birth, maturation, and death—and that humans therefore only hastened an ineluctable end:
It appears, indeed, highly probable that Death is a law of Nature in the Species as well as in the Individual;
but this internal tendency to extinction is in both cases liable to be anticipated by violent or accidental causes. Numerous external agents have affected the distribution of organic life at various periods, and one of these has operated exclusively during the existing epoch,
viz.
the agency of Man.
but this internal tendency to extinction is in both cases liable to be anticipated by violent or accidental causes. Numerous external agents have affected the distribution of organic life at various periods, and one of these has operated exclusively during the existing epoch,
viz.
the agency of Man.
But Richard Owen, England’s finest anatomist, would not let Strickland get away with such mush.
In his own 1866 monograph on the dodo, Owen reasserted the bird’s inherent inferiority in absolute terms. Citing the justice of Linnaeus’s name, Owen wrote:
In his own 1866 monograph on the dodo, Owen reasserted the bird’s inherent inferiority in absolute terms. Citing the justice of Linnaeus’s name, Owen wrote:
The brain is singularly small in the present species of
Didus;
and if it be viewed as an index of intelligence of the bird, the latter may well be termed
ineptus.
Didus;
and if it be viewed as an index of intelligence of the bird, the latter may well be termed
ineptus.
Owen then attributed the dodo’s degeneration to an easy life on Mauritius,
an island free of predators and competitors:
an island free of predators and competitors:
That there would be nothing in the contemporaneous condition of the Mauritian fauna to alarm or in any way to put the Dodo to its wits; being, like other pigeons, monogamous, the excitement, even, of a seasonal or prenuptial combat, might, as in them, be wanting. We may well suppose the bird to go on feeding and breeding in a lazy, stupid fashion,
without call or stimulus to any growth of cerebrum proportionate to the gradually accruing increment of the bulk of the body.
without call or stimulus to any growth of cerebrum proportionate to the gradually accruing increment of the bulk of the body.
Owen then specifically attacked Strickland’s notion of universal appropriateness and local perfection, citing the theories of two great French naturalists, Buffon and Lamarck, to support his notion of genuine degeneration:
The Dodo exemplifies Buffon’s idea of the
origin of species through departure from a more perfect original type by degeneration; and the known consequences of the disuse of one locomotive organ and extra use of another indicate the nature of the secondary causes that may have operated in the creation of this species of bird, agreeably with Lamarck’s philosophical conception.
origin of species through departure from a more perfect original type by degeneration; and the known consequences of the disuse of one locomotive organ and extra use of another indicate the nature of the secondary causes that may have operated in the creation of this species of bird, agreeably with Lamarck’s philosophical conception.
Finally, Owen fired his ultimate salvo: Does not the simple
fact of extinction, all by itself and
tout court
, seal the case for inadequacy?
fact of extinction, all by itself and
tout court
, seal the case for inadequacy?
Nevertheless the truth, as we have or feel it, should be told. In the end it may prove to be the more acceptable service. The
Didus ineptus
, through its degenerate or imperfect structure, howsoever acquired, has perished.
Didus ineptus
, through its degenerate or imperfect structure, howsoever acquired, has perished.
So, too, did the first human group encountered by Europeans in the New World—also on islands—perish
quickly by rapacity, exploitation, and the sword. The previous essay tells a sad tale of the Bahamian Tainos, met by Columbus on October 12, 1492—and fully extirpated, following forced removal and indenture in Hispaniola, by 1508. Columbus spoke well of the physical appearance of the Bahamian Tainos, admiring their large stature and attractive appearance—“their forms being very well proportioned,
their bodies graceful, and their features handsome,” as he wrote in his log. Yet Columbus also noted the ease of their potential exploitation: “They do not carry arms and have no knowledge of them. They have no iron . . . With fifty men they could all be subjected and made to do all that one wished.” Columbus collected nothing on the Bahamas—not even the single
Cerion
shell that could have resolved
the issue of his landfall (see chapter 11)—so posterity received no legacy from the native Bahamians beyond a verbal record.
quickly by rapacity, exploitation, and the sword. The previous essay tells a sad tale of the Bahamian Tainos, met by Columbus on October 12, 1492—and fully extirpated, following forced removal and indenture in Hispaniola, by 1508. Columbus spoke well of the physical appearance of the Bahamian Tainos, admiring their large stature and attractive appearance—“their forms being very well proportioned,
their bodies graceful, and their features handsome,” as he wrote in his log. Yet Columbus also noted the ease of their potential exploitation: “They do not carry arms and have no knowledge of them. They have no iron . . . With fifty men they could all be subjected and made to do all that one wished.” Columbus collected nothing on the Bahamas—not even the single
Cerion
shell that could have resolved
the issue of his landfall (see chapter 11)—so posterity received no legacy from the native Bahamians beyond a verbal record.
During the 1880s, the Western world, at the height of colonial expansion, and still untroubled by a history of exploitation (even genocide) against “inferior” peoples of other cultures, began to gear up for celebrations to mark the four hundredth anniversary of Columbus’s
landfall. At the same time, one of my favorite scientists, Louis Agassiz’s last student, visited the Bahamas to pursue his work on the anatomy and embryology of marine invertebrates. As a man of general curiosity, W. K. Brooks, professor of zoology at Johns Hopkins University, turned his attention to other aspects of local natural history. He contemplated the fate of the original inhabitants, and
he discovered that no anatomical remains had ever been recorded. He began to make inquiries and found that a few skeletons had been recovered from caves, but never properly described. Brooks secured the cooperation of local collectors, and studied this paltry legacy of the vibrant and complex culture first met by Europeans. Brooks published his results, the only anthropological research he ever
pursued, in a technical article for the
Memoirs of the National Academy of Sciences
(1889), and in a general article for
Popular Science Monthly
in the same year.
landfall. At the same time, one of my favorite scientists, Louis Agassiz’s last student, visited the Bahamas to pursue his work on the anatomy and embryology of marine invertebrates. As a man of general curiosity, W. K. Brooks, professor of zoology at Johns Hopkins University, turned his attention to other aspects of local natural history. He contemplated the fate of the original inhabitants, and
he discovered that no anatomical remains had ever been recorded. He began to make inquiries and found that a few skeletons had been recovered from caves, but never properly described. Brooks secured the cooperation of local collectors, and studied this paltry legacy of the vibrant and complex culture first met by Europeans. Brooks published his results, the only anthropological research he ever
pursued, in a technical article for the
Memoirs of the National Academy of Sciences
(1889), and in a general article for
Popular Science Monthly
in the same year.
Brooks began his popular article by making the link to forthcoming Columbian celebrations, and with passionate lament for a destruction so brutal, and so total, that only one legacy of the original Bahamian culture survives—as a disembodied
word, not even a palpable thing!
word, not even a palpable thing!
In three years the world will unite in celebrating the four hundredth anniversary of what from our point of view, is the grandest and most important event in history, the landing of Columbus; but in our consciousness of its profound significance, are we not in danger of forgetting that the Spaniards discovered America in the way that pirates discover a vessel
with a helpless crew? . . . [They] found the Bahamas in the possession of a prosperous and happy people . . . Twelve years afterward every soul of the population of more than forty thousand men, women, and children had perished in a strange land under the lashes of the slave-driver; the race was blotted off the face of the earth, and the only impression which has been left upon our civilization by
those who first welcomed it to this continent is a single word, which, together with the luxurious article it designates, has spread over the whole earth. [They] gave us the hammock, and this one Lucayan word is their only monument.
with a helpless crew? . . . [They] found the Bahamas in the possession of a prosperous and happy people . . . Twelve years afterward every soul of the population of more than forty thousand men, women, and children had perished in a strange land under the lashes of the slave-driver; the race was blotted off the face of the earth, and the only impression which has been left upon our civilization by
those who first welcomed it to this continent is a single word, which, together with the luxurious article it designates, has spread over the whole earth. [They] gave us the hammock, and this one Lucayan word is their only monument.
(A few other words, including
tobacco
, derive from the same language group. But Columbus first encountered tobacco on Hispaniola, and
hammock
entered Western languages
as a unique Bahamian contribution.)
tobacco
, derive from the same language group. But Columbus first encountered tobacco on Hispaniola, and
hammock
entered Western languages
as a unique Bahamian contribution.)
Following the general pattern featured as the theme of this essay, Brooks then located the focus of tragedy in the extreme paucity of remains, and expressed special pleasure in the task of rescue:
All traces of their existence were almost completely obliterated by the conquerors . . . The Spaniards had not time nor inclination for the study of anthropology,
and their random notes give us little or no knowledge of the people they destroyed, and I was therefore greatly pleased when I obtained in the Bahamas . . . the material for a satisfactory study of their anatomical characteristics.
and their random notes give us little or no knowledge of the people they destroyed, and I was therefore greatly pleased when I obtained in the Bahamas . . . the material for a satisfactory study of their anatomical characteristics.
But then, and also following the standard pattern, Brooks larded his dry anatomical descriptions with statements of disparagement—as if to suggest that the native
Bahamians had been doomed by their own inherent inferiority. He found, or so he thought, two signs of biological lowliness. First, he stated a claim for similarity between primitive races and lower mammals: “Certain variations in human crania, which are exceptions in man, but normal in certain other mammals, occur more commonly in savage than in civilized races.” Then, despite the smallness of his
sample, Brooks claimed confirmation for this principle:
Bahamians had been doomed by their own inherent inferiority. He found, or so he thought, two signs of biological lowliness. First, he stated a claim for similarity between primitive races and lower mammals: “Certain variations in human crania, which are exceptions in man, but normal in certain other mammals, occur more commonly in savage than in civilized races.” Then, despite the smallness of his
sample, Brooks claimed confirmation for this principle:
The four Lucayan skulls, however, present two cases or 50 per cent of triquetral bones in the lambdoidal suture, and as there is no reason for attaching any particular morphological importance to this peculiarity, it seems probable that savages or primitive races may be more variable or irregular as regards their osteological characteristics
than civilized races.
than civilized races.
Second, Brooks interpreted several features of the skull as “bestial,” even while generally affirming Columbus’s impression of good stature and fair form (see chapter 11). He wrote with more dispassion in his technical work: “The muscular attachments on the occipital and those on the mandible, and the great overhanging superciliary [brow] ridges give to these skulls a
bestial expression and indicate that their possessors must have been unusually muscular men.” But he stated with more fervor and prejudice in his popular article:
bestial expression and indicate that their possessors must have been unusually muscular men.” But he stated with more fervor and prejudice in his popular article:
They had protuberant jaws and the powerful neck and jaw muscles of true savages, and the outlines of the skulls have none of the softness and delicacy which characterizes those of more civilized and gentle races of men.
I confess
that I do have trouble in reconciling these two invariant and contradictory themes of early literature on preserving the remains of our initial depredations: the fervor and nobility of rescue, even for the merest scraps; with disparagement of the creatures thus preserved as artifacts, and an attribution of their extinction, in large part, to these supposed inadequacies—for why should we struggle
to preserve the inept with such zeal? Still I do not doubt—and I certainly do honor—the genuine feelings of scientific achievement and moral fulfillment that attended the rescue of paltry artifacts as unique remembrances. W. K. Brooks expressed the psychological dimension particularly well when he wrote of the inspiration provided by genuine objects, rather than replicas or mere words:
that I do have trouble in reconciling these two invariant and contradictory themes of early literature on preserving the remains of our initial depredations: the fervor and nobility of rescue, even for the merest scraps; with disparagement of the creatures thus preserved as artifacts, and an attribution of their extinction, in large part, to these supposed inadequacies—for why should we struggle
to preserve the inept with such zeal? Still I do not doubt—and I certainly do honor—the genuine feelings of scientific achievement and moral fulfillment that attended the rescue of paltry artifacts as unique remembrances. W. K. Brooks expressed the psychological dimension particularly well when he wrote of the inspiration provided by genuine objects, rather than replicas or mere words:
There
is not much intrinsic interest in a few fragments of human bones, but the Lucayan [native Bahamian] skull which stands upon my table as I write gives life and vivid reality to the familiar story . . . and calls up in all its details with startling clearness the drama of the Bahama Islands.
is not much intrinsic interest in a few fragments of human bones, but the Lucayan [native Bahamian] skull which stands upon my table as I write gives life and vivid reality to the familiar story . . . and calls up in all its details with startling clearness the drama of the Bahama Islands.
As for the tendency to disparage, I suggest that we need new concepts and metaphors to replace the false
and constraining notions, however comforting, of predictable progress in the history of life (with sad, but inevitable loss of inferior creatures), and sensible causality for all major events. Fortunately, we may find a wonderful example and opportunity for correction in the most famous literary appearance of the dodo.
and constraining notions, however comforting, of predictable progress in the history of life (with sad, but inevitable loss of inferior creatures), and sensible causality for all major events. Fortunately, we may find a wonderful example and opportunity for correction in the most famous literary appearance of the dodo.
Lewis Carroll viewed himself as a bumbling and ungainly man, and therefore
strongly identified with the dodo. In chapter three of
Alice in Wonderland
, after all characters have become thoroughly soaked, a long and vociferous argument breaks out about the best mode of getting dry. Finally, the dodo suggests a resolution. “I move,” he states, “that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies.” “The best thing to get us dry,” the dodo continues,
“would be a Caucus-race.” The dodo therefore lays out a circular course, and places all the participants at random starting points:
strongly identified with the dodo. In chapter three of
Alice in Wonderland
, after all characters have become thoroughly soaked, a long and vociferous argument breaks out about the best mode of getting dry. Finally, the dodo suggests a resolution. “I move,” he states, “that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies.” “The best thing to get us dry,” the dodo continues,
“would be a Caucus-race.” The dodo therefore lays out a circular course, and places all the participants at random starting points:
There was no “One, two, three, and away!”, but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly
called out “The race is over!”
called out “The race is over!”
The participants remain puzzled and ask, “But who has won?”
This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it stood for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said “Everybody has won, and
all must have prizes.”
all must have prizes.”
I suspect that life runs more like a caucus race than along a linear course with inevitable victory to the brave, strong, and smart. If we truly embraced this metaphor in conceptual terms, we might even be able to adopt a better position for considering the moral consequences of human actions, as suggested by Lewis Carroll’s wise dodo: no judgments of superiority or inferiority
among participants; no winners or losers; and cooperation with ends attained and prizes for all. (No one wants a caucus race for all human activities, of course. Some people do play the piano, or hit home runs, better than others—and such achievements deserve acknowledgment and reward. But when we talk about the intrinsic and ultimate worth of a human life, the judge of the caucus race
becomes the wisest of men.)
among participants; no winners or losers; and cooperation with ends attained and prizes for all. (No one wants a caucus race for all human activities, of course. Some people do play the piano, or hit home runs, better than others—and such achievements deserve acknowledgment and reward. But when we talk about the intrinsic and ultimate worth of a human life, the judge of the caucus race
becomes the wisest of men.)
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