Trust and Cooperation are Widespread Among Diverse Animals

Last Friday, as I was competing a draft of this essay, I was asked to comment on the notion of trust among nonhuman animals (animals). This request couldn't have come at a better time because I was reading Sweet in Tooth and Claw: Stories of Generosity and Cooperation in the Natural World by Kristin Ohlson and The Social Instinct: How Cooperation Shaped the World by Nichola Raihani was in my "to read soon" pile.¹ I've also thought about these topics for some time because many animals are incredibly adept social beings, relying on different rules of conduct to navigate intricate social networks that are essential to their survival.

Timing is everything; I stopped writing, read the books, did the interview, and this piece is much more complete. In addition to many (but not all) dogs trusting us to give them the best lives possible, there are numerous examples of nonhumans trusting and cooperating with one another. They do so when they agree to play fairly and follow the "golden rule" of play, when they work together to get food, share it, and possibly defend it and to acquire a territory and defend it, raise youngsters and care for them (called cooperative breeding), and form grooming networks.²

Dogs and other animals cooperate and trust one another when they play. Play-fighting only rarely escalates into serious fighting, and these dog's trust in one another allows them to play without being injured.

Source: Marc Bekoff

Trust and cooperation go hand-in-hand. There's no problem using trust alongside cooperation because trust is one of the basic ingredients of forming and maintaining cooperative and cohesive groups, packs, flocks, or herds of animals. Lying, cheating, and deceiving can undermine trust among individuals and weaken and cause the desolation of social bonds.

Trust doesn't require language. The animals have to agree that it's best to work together for a common goal, however they do it, and that this agreement is good for everyone.³

What Does It Mean to "Know" Something?

It's sort of uncanny that an earlier draft of this essay focused on what it means to "know" something and these books and the discussion of trust home in on this deeply philosophical and daunting question. It's essential to balance skepticism with credulity about animal minds and in many cases, it's fair to argue we know enough to make credible claims about what other animals are thinking and feeling when they're doing something such as cooperating and trusting another individual or engaging in other activities.⁴

Along these lines, I once had a very interacting discussion with Alec about his dog, Murphy. Alec told me he actually didn't know if Murphy enjoyed playing but he took him to a dog park because Murphy played a lot. I asked Alex if he would do something to Murphy that would harm him and he said "No!" We talked some and Alec came to realize that he really knew that Murphy loved to play and that's why they went to a dog park at least five days a week.⁵

Scientists will often talk freely about animal emotions when they're out of the lab and then, when they're at work, they say something like we don't really know what an animal is thinking or feeling. For example, in The Emotional Lives of Animals, I wrote about a scientist, Bill, and his dog, Reno. Bill had invited me to give a lecture on animal emotions at his university and before I did so I had the pleasure of meeting Reno at Bill's home. Bill talked about how happy Reno was when he played and how he missed Bill and his family when they were gone.

After I gave my talk, Bill remarked that I was a bit too loose when I talked about animal emotions and I asked Bill to tell the audience what he had told me about Reno a few hours earlier when we were at his home. Bill smiled and a valuable discussion followed.

Anthropomorphism is a Dead-End Street

Like the authors of the above books and numerous others, I firmly believe that other animals trust and are trustworthy—individuals are saying or doing what they really mean—and cooperate—work together for a common goal—with one another based on solid comparative research, evolutionary biology, and common sense. It's unlikely, some might say impossible, that we're exceptional in these arenas and that trust and cooperation first appeared with us.

People who make these claims are not being anthropomorphic. Saying other animals are only acting "as if" they're being cooperative or feeling different emotions is an explanatory dead-end street and should be recognized as such.⁶ For some skeptics playing the "A" card—saying things such as, "Oh, you're just being anthropomorphic"—deflects attention away from what we know from detailed comparative studies. Bill and Reno always come to mind.

The essential question is why, not if cooperation and trust have evolved—what they are good for and what function they serve. I’m not saying dog trust is the same as human trust, and I’m not saying dog trust is the same as wolf trust. But the basic ingredient is that an individual has a feeling that another individual has my and their best interests in mind.

Creating a Credible "Taxonomy of Trust"

It sounds boring to say we need more research, but more data are always welcome.⁷ The books and interview mentioned above contain loads of information about trust and cooperation among diverse animals, but more information is needed to produce a reliable "taxonomy of trust." Many people are interested in these extremely interesting aspects of animal behavior and the more data we collect, the more likely it is that speciesist and misguided human exceptionalism will go down the drain, as it should.