The online magazine Cracked, which is primarily known for cramming the maximum amount of four-letter words into the minimum amount of space but still occasionally tosses out some utter brilliance, in 2007 put out an article called “What is the Monkeysphere?” The article presented the concept of Dunbar’s number, the theoretical maximum number of social relationships any given animal (including humans) can form and maintain at any given time.
The theory goes: Think about having a pet. A dog, for example. Your dog has a name (“Gozer the Magnificent”) and wears a funny hat and likes eating frozen rhubarb. Now imagine you have five dogs. Their names and personalities are a little harder to remember, but you can still keep them straight. Now try to picture owning a hundred dogs. Likely, you can’t even picture that many dogs, much less think of individual names or personalities for each. The maximum number of dogs (or people, etc) with whom you can form caring social relationships is somewhere between five and one hundred. That’s Dunbar’s number. That’s the biggest social sphere we, as “monkeys”, can create. That’s our monkeysphere.
Dunbar’s number varies from person to person and from species to species, but the basic principle is the same. Where animal research, farming, zoos, and the pet industry — animal industry in general — goes wrong is about the point where the number of animals being cared for by any one person becomes greater than Dunbar’s number.
If a lab tech is told to care for ten mice, they all get names, personalities and individual identities. A lab tech caring for a room full of 500 mouse cages, each containing between one and five mice, barely has time to count the mice as they blur past during each daily check. A slaughter worker tasked with “stunning” four cows an hour can move slowly and patiently, properly aim the “stunning” device, and make sure each animal is dead before the rendering process begins. A slaughter worker tasked with “stunning” one hundred cows an hour — as many currently are — is “processing” something like one cow every thirty seconds. There is no time for patience or proper aim. A zoo or wildlife park worker who cares for ten to fifteen animals has names for each one, and the animals are often treated as personal friends. A zoo director, overseeing a collection of five hundred to two thousand animals, starts to see them as “units” rather than social companions.
Other factors — primarily money — come into it as well, but there is something about reaching Dunbar’s number that really damages the structure. Once the humans can’t form social relationships with the individual animals anymore, they stop treating the animals as beings with which you might form social relationships — and that starts the whole downward spiral, where “what we should be doing” begins to look more and more different from “what we are actually doing”.
Just a thought.
This is just another instance wherein an animal which comes to community attention as an individual (rather than as an anonymous member of a group) suddenly joins the Monkeysphere and becomes worthy of a social bond.
Animalfeasance 