By Cathy M. Rosenthal
When Frans De Waal’s book, Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Really Are? came out, I couldn’t wait to delve into his insights and explore how he might reshape our understanding of animal intelligence. De Waal, widely regarded as the world’s premier primatologist, challenges our deeply ingrained tendencies to measure animal cognition by comparing it to humans. “We always sit at the top of that ladder,” he says, pointing out the limitations of such an anthropocentric view.
For centuries, animals have been categorized as either instinct-driven machines or rudimentary learners, but De Waal argues that this perspective fundamentally underestimates their capacities. “Each species has its own requirements for living,” he explains. “I am not denying that humans aren’t special, but our brain is not that fundamentally different from a monkey or rat. Mammal brains operate in similar ways.”
This idea has profound implications for how we view our place in the animal kingdom. De Waal’s research reveals that what we consider uniquely human traits, such as morality, empathy, and cooperation, are also present in the social systems of other animals, particularly primates. In his book, he emphasizes that human morality wouldn’t exist without its evolutionary building blocks—fairness, reciprocity, and concern for others—traits evident in chimpanzee and monkey societies.
“The building blocks of morality are not nice or good behaviors,” he writes, “but rather mental and social capacities for constructing societies in which shared values constrain individual behavior through a system of approval and disapproval.” In other words, morality isn’t exclusive to humans; it’s rooted in social interactions that allow groups to thrive; a fact that should make us reconsider how we judge the intelligence of other species.
De Waal never set out to study fairness, but his research brought this concept to light time and again. “Mammals are sensitive to what others receive,” he notes. A striking example comes from a woman he knew with a Chihuahua and a Great Dane. “The Chihuahua always insisted on getting the same amount of food as the Great Dane,” he recalls. Anyone who shares their life with pets can relate. My own dogs never fail to notice if one receives even a crumb more than the other and are quick to express their discontent over any perceived injustice.
De Waal also addresses our tendency to misjudge animal intelligence when it doesn’t conform to human expectations. For instance, he recounts a story about a friend upset over a dog intelligence breed list that ranked border collies first and Afghan Hounds last. The friend argued that the ranking wasn’t a measure of intelligence but of obedience. She said, Afghans are “independent-minded, stubborn, and unwilling to follow orders.” Her observation is spot on. Intelligence comes in many forms, and it doesn’t always align with a human-centric view of compliance.
This misunderstanding extends to cats as well. People often dismiss cats as less intelligent because they interact with us differently than dogs. Yet cat parents know better. Cats possess a unique intelligence, often demonstrating problem-solving skills, emotional awareness, and adaptability in ways that rival their canine counterparts. As De Waal points out, dogs and cats are in our homes precisely because “we have an emotional connection with them. They respond to us, and we respond to them. That gives us comfort.” This mutual bond underscores not only their emotional intelligence but also their deep integration into our lives.
While we may form stronger emotional connections with mammals, De Waal’s work challenges us to expand our perspective. What about fish, birds, or reptiles? Are we simply blind to their intelligence because it doesn’t manifest in ways familiar to us? If we judge animals solely by their similarity to humans, I think we risk missing the complexity of their minds and the richness of their worlds.
Are humans open-minded enough to recognize animal intelligence when we see it?
De Waal suggests that we are only beginning to scratch the surface. As someone who advocates for humane care and the understanding of animals, I see this as a call to action. The more we learn about animal cognition, the more it becomes clear that intelligence takes many forms, each shaped by the needs and experiences of the species. Recognizing and respecting these differences is not just a scientific challenge—it’s a moral one. How we perceive animals influences how we treat them, and De Waal’s work reminds us to approach this relationship with humility, curiosity, and compassion.
