You enter a room with
two cages. One contains a friend, who is clearly distressed. The other
contains a bar of chocolate, which clearly isn’t. What do you do? While a
few people would probably go for the chocolate first (and you know who
you are), most would choose to free the friend. And so, it seems, would a
rat.
Inbal Ben-Ami Bartal from the University of
Chicago found that rats will quickly learn to free a trapped cage-mate,
even when they get nothing in return, or when there’s a tasty chocolate
distraction around. Bartal thinks that the rats conduct their prison
breaks because they empathise with one another. This ability to
understand and share the feelings of another individual is found in
humans, apes, elephants, dolphins and other intelligent animals. It
seems that rats belong in this club too.
This is either a
surprise or a retelling of old news, depending on how far back your
memory goes. In 1959, the psychologist Russell Church trained a rat to
press a lever for food. Then, he connected the lever to the electrified
floor of a cage containing another rat. If the first rat pressed the
lever, the second one would get a painful shock. That’s not what
happened – when the first rat saw what was going on, it forfeited its
food and avoided the lever.
Church’s published his results in a
provocative paper called “Emotional reactions of rats to the pain of
others”, which sparked a flurry of similar studies throughout the 1960s.
But the time wasn’t right. Psychologists were mostly interested in what
animals did rather than what they felt, and the dominant view of nature
red in tooth and claw left little room for cuddly feelings of empathy
or altruism. “No one knew what to do with the studies, and they were
forgotten,” says Frans de Waal, who studies how animals think.
In
later years, the taboo on animal empathy began to lift and people
became happier to ascribe it to the wider animal kingdom. In 2006, Dale
Langford from McGill University returned to Church’s work and produced
more evidence that rats can feel empathy. She showed that mice become
more sensitive to pain when they see their cagemates in it.
It
seemed that rats are sensitive to each other’s emotions, ‘catching’ them
from one another. But Bartal wanted to know if this “emotional
contagion” would actually motivate rats to help one another. Would
empathy lead to action? Arguably, Church showed as much back in 1959,
but psychologists have wondered whether the rats stopped pressing the
levers out of concern for their fellows, or out of fear that their own
floors would be electrified. Bartal needed a new experiment.
She
kept her rats in pairs for two weeks, and then placed one of them in a
cage. The trapped rats were clearly stressed – Bartal used a bat
detector to show that they were occasionally making high-pitched alarm
calls. Their partners could free them by pushing against a restraining
door and tipping it over. That’s what they did, although most took a
week to learn how.
Bartal found that the rats spent more time
exploring the cage, and were more likely to open it, when there was
another rat inside. It didn’t matter if the liberated rat got nothing in
return. When Bartal changed the set-up so the only exit from the cage
led to a different arena, the free rat still opened the door for its
colleague, who promptly scurried away.
Even when the rats were
faced with a second cage containing delicious chocolate chips, they
freed their cage-mate as often as they went for the food. They even
shared their chocolate bounty with their liberated pals. “Empathy is a
truly powerful motivator, on a par with the desire for chocolates!” says
de Waal.
Stephanie Preston, who works on animal emotions, says
that Bartal has strengthened the case made by the studies from the 50s
and 60s. “As shown previously, the rodents were not only empathically
aroused by the emotion of [another rat], they took direct action to
help. This is the definition of empathy,” she says.
There are
alternative explanations, but none of them are strong. They weren’t just
trying to silence the grating alarm calls from their trapped peers,
because such calls were too rare to be a potent motivator. They weren’t
just curious about the trapped rat, because they still opened the cages
if they were very familiar with the animal inside. And they weren’t just
looking for something to do for the door mechanism is difficult. The
only explanation that really fits the rodents’ actions is that they were
trying to end the distress of the trapped rat, or perhaps their own
distress at seeing their cage-mate’s plight.
“The study is truly
ground-breaking,” adds de Waal. It shows that rodents are not just
affected by the emotions of others, but that empathy motivates altruism.
Instead of explaining altruism by a cost/benefit calculation, as
biologists and economists like to do, we are now entering a distinctly
psychological realm of emotions and reactions to the emotions of others.
This is where most human altruism finds its motivation and where, as
this study suggests, animal altruism does too. In fact, the cost/benefit
analysis was carried out long ago by evolution.”
De Waal
suggests that the rats’ behaviour is the result of ancient neural
circuits that allow mammals to “make the situation of others their own
to some degree, thus offering them an emotional stake in it.” These
circuits underlie the behaviour of apes, dolphins, elephants, rats, and
probably more. De Waal thinks that they originated from the care that
mammal mothers offered towards their young, which might explain why
female rats (like female chimps and female humans) seem to be more
empathic than male ones. In Bartal’s experiment, all the female rats
opened doors for a trapped individual, compared to just three-quarters
of the males.
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