51 pages • 1 hour read
Ed YongA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Uexkull compares an animal’s body to a house, with windows—the senses—that open to the world. In his example, the world is represented by a garden. The first 11 chapters provide an understanding of different senses and how they open up different worlds for different animals. But, of course, Uexkull is interested not only in the windows themselves but also in how they are integrated into the architecture of the house. This requires an understanding of how the windows work on their own, as well as how they might “open” and “close” in coordination with one another. Chapter 12 focuses on this coordination of the senses, and it also pays attention to how animals coordinate sensory information coming from outside their bodies with information coming from within their bodies.
Every animal relies on more than one sense, and animals use as many senses as their nervous systems can manage. Sense organs provide two forms of information whenever animals move: exafference and reafference. Exafference refers to stimuli from the outside world, while reafference indicates signals produced within an animal. Yong describes the former as “other-produced” and the latter as “self-produced.” Leaves rustle in the wind on their own, demonstrating exafference, but perception of their rustling is reafference.
“Corollary discharges” refer to the way that the senses anticipate what will happen with every move an animal makes. They explain, for example, why it is impossible for people to tickle themselves. Corollary discharges also create a stable visual field, even though the field is not stable. They also account for a fish’s ability to sense the flow of other fish swimming without being distracted by the flow related to its own movement.
The topics discussed above relate to the ability to distinguish between the self and the other, which is not only a philosophical question but also a neurological one. According to neuroscientist Michael Hendricks, “This is largely what sentience is […] and perhaps it’s why sentience is: It’s the process of sorting perceptual experiences into self-generated and other-generated” (328). Sentience does not require consciousness, and it is a “foundational condition of animal existence, which flows from the simplest acts of sensing and moving. Animals cannot make sense of what’s around them without first making sense of themselves” (328).
Yong concludes the chapter with a complex umwelt, presenting the possibility that an octopus exists within two umwelten. While octopuses have traditional brains, they also have eight arms, with each sucker on the arms having its own mini brain: the sucker ganglion. Each sucker ganglion connects to a brachial ganglion in the middle of the arm. The sucker ganglia don’t communicate with each other, but the brachial ganglia do. Thus, each arm controls itself. The central, traditional brain can coordinate these arms when needed. The arms have proprioceptors, but these may function specifically only within each arm; the octopus may not have a sense of its body as a whole. Unlike humans, whose bodies are much more limited in their motions, octopuses are bodies of “pure possibility,” according to philosopher Peter Godfrey-Smith. He notes that a body of possibilities may be too much for any single brain to manage. After all, octopuses can change color and texture. They can move in ways that are difficult for many people to imagine because of their extreme flexibility and changeability. More specifically, the arms may live in a world of taste and touch, while the head’s guiding sense is vision. The analogy Yong uses, then, is that the octopus lives in two semidetached houses that have completely different architectural styles and are connected by a small door between the two residences.
Yong emphasizes that as challenging as it may be for humans to imagine themselves as other animals, it is impossible for them to imagine how their brains would work within others’ umwelten. This is because human brains simply would not work in other sensory worlds.
This final chapter introduces the concept of the Anthropocene, a geologically distinct period marked by human changes to the planet. The Anthropocene is usually an umbrella term under which climate change, species extinction, toxic pollution, and other anthropogenic changes to the planet are discussed. However, Yong specifically asks readers to pay attention to “sensory pollution” as part of the Anthropocene.
Humans assault other animals with human-created stimuli that even overwhelm many humans. Light pollution is the most obvious example of this sensory assault. Many insects are attracted to streetlights, circling around them all night and then collapsing. Most humans live in conditions of light pollution. Seven million birds in the US and Canada die every year from collapsing into communication towers; the red lights on these towers are designed to warn aircraft, but they disrupt birds’ navigation. Simply changing these lights from steady to blinking would reduce these deaths. Filling the darkness of night with artificial light is entirely anthropogenic. As mammals with very high-resolution vision, people have very low light sensitivity, but people want to see as well at night as during the day. Bringing artificial light to the dark negatively impacts other animals’ umwelten, to the point that many of them cannot survive this change.
Blue and white lights are the worst disrupters. Blue light scatters broadly and is cast by LEDs. If there is a global switch to the blue-based light of energy-efficient LEDs as a replacement for yellow-orange sodium lights, light pollution will potentially increase threefold.
Noise pollution makes it harder for animals to call to one another. It also smothers the various unintentional sounds that connect species, such as those of wind and animal movements, and makes it harder for animals to make sense of their worlds. Every incremental addition of three decibels to a soundscape cuts the range of natural sounds that can be heard in half. The soundscape of the ocean has increased up to 30 decibels. Animals’ sensory worlds become smaller and smaller, resulting in them being not just geographically hemmed in by humans as their land is stolen but also restricted to smaller and smaller sensescapes. Not all animals can “adjust” to this pollution, as many simply cannot perceive what they must do to survive.
On the positive side, Yong argues that sensory pollution can be dealt with immediately. He contrasts this with the eternal wake that follows much pollution, such as “forever” chemicals that degrade over millions of years.
Yong concludes by urging the reader to “try to step into their worlds. We must choose to do so, and to have that choice is a gift. It is not a blessing we have earned, but it is one we must cherish” (355).
Yong calls on the reader to address sensory pollution, presenting this as a human responsibility and a moral imperative. The study of the umwelten is presented in these final chapters as the means to something larger: the creation of a more livable world for all animals.
This final call to action from Yong assumes that animals can be harmed not only by the suffering of pain but also by any deprivation or pollution of their sensory worlds. If this call is taken seriously and applied to all animals, it requires people to radically revise their relationships with animals. Conscientiously imagining—not intuiting—the umwelten of other animals is the means by which people can help to create conditions in which all animals are able to thrive.
Yong notes that it is impossible for people to truly apply their ways of sensing to other animals’ worlds, but they can act with empathy to attempt to minimize the disruption and destruction that human-created stimuli impose on other beings. Even well-intentioned measures, such as transitioning to more energy-efficient lighting, can wreak unintended consequences on animals’ sensory systems. The negative effects of light and noise pollution can be quickly reversed, but the desires for continual light, activity, and productivity that drive them are deeply rooted in the psyche. For example, Yong observes that people’s visual sensory system helped create some of the most foundational metaphors in literary and religious texts, which extol the supposed virtues of lightness over darkness.