Other Nations

For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings, they are other Nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.
Henry Beston, 1928

Nearly 30 years ago, in one of TV's most unforgettable broadcasts, Sir David At-tenborough, crouching amidst a group of mountain gorillas in Rwanda, said in an awe-struck whisper "There is more meaning and mutual understanding in exchanging a glance with a gorilla than any other animal I know."
The moment perfectly captured how people feel in the presence of gorillas - not just reverence and awe, but a psychological and emotional connection to another species. But how mutual is this feeling? Do gorillas recognize a kindred spirit in us? Certainly captive gorillas can develop close reciprocal bonds with humans that blur the species boundary. But these are animals whose natural lives have been stolen, and for whom humans are surrogate conspecifics. What about wild gorillas?
Consider the scientists who study the habituated mountain gorillas of Rwanda, Uganda and Congo, like I did at the Karisoke Research Center in the 1970s and 1980s. Of course, researchers do not aim to form bonds with the animals, quite the opposite. We want to influence them as little as possible, staying on the outside, looking in. But when you spend hour after hour, day in and day out, in the midst of a gorilla group, you do sometimes feel like you're one of the gang.
To some extent, this feeling is inevitable, given how many traits our species share. So much of what gorillas do is familiar - the way they move their hands, for example, or the expressions in their eyes. When I crawled along their trail on my hands and knees, I was seeing their world much the way they did. I particularly recall my sense of affinity during long, cold rainstorms. Then, the gorillas and I got into the same position, hunkering down with feet tucked underneath us, arms folded across our chests, heads bowed, and shoulders hunched against the chilly, pelting rain. Comrades in misery.
I must admit that part of me was drawn to the notion that I had been accepted as one of the group. But I knew this was a fantasy. I think the gorillas saw me, as they do all human observers, as an animal that spent a lot of time following them around, but posed them no danger. I imagine that they recognize something familiar in our ape-like qualities, but I saw no evidence that they viewed me as another gorilla, or felt any kind of "connection". I was largely irrelevant. When a gorilla gazed into my face with its thoughtful brown eyes, it was looking at its reflection in my glasses, not searching my soul.
We modern humans, living so far removed from Nature, are seduced by the idea of being one with the animals, of being their friends. It's the allure behind Tarzan and Mowgli. But our attachment to wild animals is one-way, and of course, this is how it should be. Gorillas "accept" us only in the sense that they cease to fear us. The ultimate privilege is to have a wild gorilla turn its back on you. It rests on our shoulders not to betray this trust.

Kelly Stewart

Other contributions:

Martha Robbins

Juichi Yamagiwa

James Byamukama and Stephen Asuma

Raymond Corbey

Colin Groves

Richard Johnstone-Scott

Overview
 

Dr. Kelly Stewart studied the gorillas at Karisoke Research Center during the 1970s and early 1980s. For 10 years she was editor of Gorilla Conservation News (now defunct). She is a Research Associate in the Anthropology Department, University of California at Davis.

Gorillas in general - overview

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