Nova (1974) s35e12 Episode Script

Something strange is happening in the forests of Africa.
Chimpanzees are doing things no one has seen them do before: they're in a partying mood.
But that's not all.
At a site called Fongoli, in Senegal, they have also invented a remarkable way of catching a meal.
They are making spears and hunting, just like our ancestors.
Are these apes developing human-like skills in their own environment? After all, the great apes- chimpanzees, orangutans, gorillas, and bonobos- seem so much like us, it's hard not to feel a deep connection.
We have come to see that we're much more similar to them than we ever imagined.
But for every revelation about the power of their minds, another shows up a stunning difference.
If you think that human genetics and ape genetics are 99 percent the same, what we've managed to achieve in our current position on Earth is so strikingly different from that of apes.
We're trying to figure out, "What is it that makes us human? What's the little difference that makes the big difference?" How big is the gap between them and us? What's holding them back? In a remote part of Africa, there's something new under the sun.
Our closest living relatives are getting bold.
Chimps are supposed to be afraid of water, but this young male is climbing down for a dip.
He keeps a hand on a natural safety line as he overcomes his fear.
Has a boy or girl ever had so much fun in a swimming hole? Wild chimps have never before been seen playing like this.
At Fongoli, Senegal, anthropologist Jill Pruetz and psychologist Andrew Whiten are getting an extraordinary glimpse of chimp emotions.
The personality of a chimpanzee is extremely excitable.
I've hardly ever seen a facial expression like that.
I mean, that was extreme excitement to the stage of kind of losing control.
It's not merely just to cool off.
The juveniles have fun.
I mean, they play in the water.
They play a lot in the water.
This is only one of a rush of discoveries that is painting a surprising picture of ape minds.
They are more like us than most researchers ever imagined.
One by one, the skills and emotions we once thought were uniquely human are being found in apes.
Still, specific mental gaps- the little differences that make the big difference- will ultimately explain why we study them and not the other way around.
While the swimming hole is revealing chimps' emotions in the field, a new laboratory study is showing off their amazing rational powers.
At the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Leipzig, Germany, psychologist Josep Call places a peanut inside a clear tube.
How can the chimpanzee get the snack? She has never seen this puzzle before.
For 10 minutes, there is no solution in sight.
And all of a sudden, boom, they solve it.
They have to understand that they can use the water as a tool.
This is interesting, because the water itself, it doesn't have any shape.
Using water as a tool seems like something we would do on a good day.
Another tool is being put to remarkable use by wild chimps in their quest for a meal.
Back in Senegal, Jill Pruetz has been keeping a close eye on chimps' eating habits.
Throughout Africa, chimps eat almost anything, and they have a particular taste for meat.
Here, their favorite prey is the bush baby, a small nocturnal primate.
But these chimps aren't catching bush babies barehanded.
Pruetz has seen chimps making spears and using them to hunt.
Andrew Whiten hopes to join the ranks of the few who have witnessed this extraordinary behavior.
To make a spear, a chimp starts by breaking off a branch, then sharpening the tip.
All on the quest to capture a bush baby in its day time sleeping hollow.
So the next step would be that the chimp would approach the cavity and sometimes look in, take the tool, jab forcefully into the cavity, multiple times.
It may not be ice-pick-sharp, but when driven by an arm up to five times as strong as a human's, it's a potentially lethal weapon.
They always either sniff it or lick it when they withdraw the tool.
What they may do is actually break open the entire cavity, and if they're lucky, find a bush baby inside.
Break, strip, sharpen, stab: these chimps take a series of distinct steps in a carefully premeditated hunt.
Pruetz and Whiten are closing in on the answers.
Most of the 20 spear hunts observed by Pruetz have taken place during the rainy season.
Over time she has seen every stage of the kill.
A chimp is inspecting a hollow, looking for a bush baby.
She breaks off a branch and makes a spear.
The first time I saw a chimp make a tool, I think I said something like, "Where is she going, and what is she going to do with that tool?" She nibbles the tip to sharpen it.
Then, with the aid of her foot, she aims the point into a hollow.
Pruetz has made a landmark discovery.
Never before has any non-human species been known to routinely make and use deadly weapons.
So what does spear-hunting reveal about how chimpanzees think? Pruetz and her team have seen about half the chimps here brandishing weapons, which means spear hunting has spread through much of the group.
That seems natural to us.
But generating ideas and sharing technologies is one scientific definition of culture.
For Whiten, culture includes the human arts from beer to Beethoven, but it also covers the rudimentary traditions of ape societies.
Whiten is trying to discover what kind of mind can lead an ape to culture.
Young watch their parents, sometimes very intently.
And over the following months and years, they acquire that behavior.
So you have to be able to copy.
To prove that one ape can copy another, a student of Andrew Whiten's devised an experiment.
At the University of Texas, Antoine Spiteri has built a kind of slot machine for apes.
He loads it with a grape.
To get the fruit, a chimp must first turn a disk to allow the grape to drop through a hole.
Next, a chimp must move a door that opens a handle to release the fruit pay-out.
Spiteri now trains a chimp named Judy how to work the device.
On her own, she'd never work it out, but thanks to a sweet liquid reward, she learns the sequence is two steps: rotate, then push.
Next, Judy's group mates enter.
Spiteri wants to know if, just by watching, the spectators will learn the technique.
Can these apes ape to win this food-finding game? One chimp seems to think she's got it and shoves Judy aside.
A minute ago, Judy was the only one with the knowledge.
Now another has it, and, quickly, the trick spreads throughout the group.
But for Spiteri, the most important question remains.
Have the next door neighbours also learned the solution? They have no social ties to the original group.
In fact, they are hostile towards them.
Would they set that aside to keep up with the Joneses next door? In no time at all, they're working the slot machine like old pros.
Rotating, then pushing the handle.
Learning by imitation is an essential skill for culture.
And culture, along with the complex thoughts and emotions behind it, was long believed to be uniquely human.
The history of Western thought has always been premised on the idea that there are beasts and there are humans; and humans are touched by the spark of God, and beasts are just beasts.
Something of a revolution came in 1960, when a young researcher, with support from the National Geographic Society, set up camp in Tanzania.
Jane Goodall observed that chimps' emotions seemed much like our own, especially the tenacious bond between mother and baby.
At a site in Western Africa, Japanese researchers reported the story of an ill two-year-old chimp.
Her mother touches her forehead as if to check for a fever.
As the baby's strength ebbs her mother remains devoted.
When I see the scene of the mother looking at the baby, I really recognize the emotional life of chimpanzees are so similar to us.
For weeks after the baby's death, the mother carries her baby's body.
Is the mother grieving? Can an ape be in denial? It's impossible to say exactly what the mother is thinking, but hard to dismiss her feelings.
Putting ape emotions on the map was just one of Goodall's accomplishments.
She also found powerful evidence of their intelligence.
Goodall was the first to report chimps making and using tools- in this case to "fish" for termites.
When she found termite-fishing, people were so surprised, and thought we should change the definition of humans, or we should include chimpanzee as humans.
What Goodall couldn't have known was that at a place called Goualougo, other chimps had an even more sophisticated way to catch termites.
First they use a big stick like a shovel to open the ground, then they switch to a slender probe to pull up the insects.
Perhaps Goodall's most astonishing discovery was that chimps are hunters.
She watched a troop catching colobus monkeys by hand.
Although no one has established that they coordinate their efforts, the chimps appear to be cooperating.
And cooperation is, after all, one of the key drivers of human culture.
Could apes speed up their culture by working together? Imagine a group of chimps, armed and dangerous, hunting as a band.
So why isn't the Earth the Planet of the Apes? Do apes even have the capacity to cooperate? A series of new studies reveals the rudiments of teamwork in the great apes.
But they still come up short.
In an experiment at the Great Ape Research Institute in Japan, a chimp knows that food is hidden under a stone.
Researchers replace it with a heavier stone.
If two chimps each know about the food, can they work together? In repeated trials, no pair of chimps has ever cooperated to synchronize their pulling.
If one chimp is replaced with a person the other animal still doesn't collaborate, at first.
But, eventually, it figures out the sweet rewards of cooperation.
Ultimately, the chimp learns to ask for a helping hand.
A needy chimp may well recruit help from a human, but will it ever offer assistance? One of the most surprising findings of all of my years of studying apes has been that they will actually help humans.
If you're reaching for an out-of-reach object, if they understand what your goal is, then they will help you.
Of course if you've dropped your banana, you can forget it, you won't be getting it back.
Chimps can understand what someone else wants.
One study shows that they can even interpret another's actions as good or bad.
In Leipzig, Germany, a chimpanzee is about to receive a tray of food.
At the same time he's given a rope under the platform, he can pull at anytime to collapse the platform and end the experiment.
Another chimp now enters the cage.
This chimp is free to pull a second rope on top of the tray.
The first chimp is ticked off.
He pulls the hidden rope, and the game is over.
Was he just generally outraged? Or taking specific revenge on the thief? To find out, it is the researcher that now moves the food.
Once again the first chimp has lost his meal to the second.
All that has changed is who is responsible.
In trials where the researcher moves the food, the first chimp is much less likely to crash the platform.
That would punish an innocent chimp.
So chimps have a sense of justice, and they can cooperate with people.
Can they collaborate spontaneously with each other? Researchers placed fruit on a board just out of a chimpanzee's reach.
The chimps are behind bars to keep them from the food, and because they can be impulsive, strong and dangerous.
When a solo chimp can reach both ends of a rope, it hauls them in and gets all the food.
But on some trials the ends are too far apart.
If the chimp pulls just one end, the rope unthreads.
The chimp has another option.
He can unlock a door to bring in a helper who's been watching.
The two chimps now work together.
But a series of trials shows that this teamwork doesn't come easily.
The helper must be a friend, and the food divided into separate dishes.
Can a more loving ape cooperate better? At Lola Ya Bonobo Sanctuary in the Congo, victims of the pet trade are raised by human mothers.
When these bonobos grow up, they will spend their days outdoors, becoming savvy about life in the forest.
Bonobos are the most social of the great apes.
And in their groups, all friends are "friends with benefits," a simple way to diffuse tension.
Calmer than chimps, how do bonobos fare on the cooperation test? Food is placed in a central shared well.
Ok, are you ready? One, two, three! All the food is in the same dish, so it's very easy for one individual to bump the other individual out of the way and steal it all.
It takes the bonobos a while to get on task.
But soon they get the hang of it.
Yay, bonobos! Yay! With their more congenial temperaments, bonobos are more cooperative than chimps are.
In fact, bonobos may take cooperation even further.
When a young male died at Lola Ya Bonobo, workers were trying to remove his body.
The staff decided to use sticks and try to move the bonobo towards a door.
They mounted an incredible defense of this body that surprised everybody and was extremely moving.
That's a fascinating reaction on the part of the bonobos.
They were not related to that individual, and yet, they took extreme risks to protect his body.
As they fend off the humans, it seems as if they're cooperating.
But what does it take to work together? Are they comparing the number of staff to their own troops? Can they calculate at all? At Kyoto University, Tetsuro Matsuzawa's experiments are revealing that chimps can in fact develop an astonishing facility for numbers.
He first trained a chimpanzee named Ai to touch the numeral that matched the number of dots.
Once Ai knew zero through nine, Matsuzawa displayed the numbers helter-skeltered on a screen.
Ai quickly learned to touch them in ascending order.
In the final test, as soon as Ai touches the numeral one, white squares cover up the remaining numbers.
Can the chimp possibly remember all the numbers and their locations and touch them in order? The performance was really amazing.
Much, much better than we had expected.
But for Ai, learning numbers was a struggle.
Almost the same amount of training was necessary to teach three, teach four or teach five.
Or, even worse, it takes more time to teach five and then six.
Ai never got the feeling that children get when they realize you just add one to get to the next number.
In the United States, another ape shows a surprising gift for language.
Going to go help get some sticks? Good.
A bonobo named Kanzi, now at the Great Ape Trust in Iowa, picked up English without being directly taught.
Put the keys in the refrigerator.
Wearing a mask to avoid cueing Kanzi, researcher Sue Savage-Rumbaugh tests his comprehension.
Good job! Go get the ball that's outdoors.
Very nice.
Thank you, Kanzi.
Savage-Rumbaugh measures Kanzi's vocabulary at 3,000 spoken English words.
While apes can master words and numbers, other research shows that something else is limiting their cooperation: apes have emotional issues -rivalry, violence- and most of all, they're impulsive.
In a celebrated study that investigated impulse control, Sally Boysen of Ohio State University asked chimps to choose between two dishes of sweets.
Now, you watch real carefully.
We're going to put one, two, three, four down here.
Are you watching, Miss Priss? Sheeby? And we're going to put two in here.
Give those to Sarah.
Okay.
Well, I have to give these to Sarah, and Sheeba gets two.
So Sarah gets four and Sheeba only gets two.
Aw, too bad.
The twist was that the chimp got the sweets that she didn't point to.
Could she learn to resist her impulse to reach for the bigger pile? You want Sarah to have these? It's okay, it's okay.
You get to have that one.
Yeah, Sarah gets five, and Sheba gets one.
Oh, that is such a shame.
Amazingly, in the study chimps never overcame their greedy urges.
They always reached for more and, so, ended up with less.
Impulse studies have also been run on humans.
In a classic experiment of the 1970s, a researcher gives a four-year-old a simple choice.
So, if you wait for me to get back, I'll give you this bowl with all of these gummy bears, okay? But if you can't wait, you can push that button, like this, and then I'll come back and you can have this bowl with just this one gummy bear, ok? Okay, I'll be right back.
According to an inconclusive but intriguing study, the longer children resisted temptation, the higher their school test results would be years later.
In any case, the differences between people are small compared to the gap separating humans and apes.
Maybe one of the first things that happened during our species evolution is we became much less emotionally reactive.
And maybe that's one of the big differences that may explain why we solve problems so differently.
We sort of got control of our emotions.
Can apes be given skills to help them master their emotions? Now you watch real carefully.
Sally Boysen trained a chimp to understand numerals.
She then repeated the experiment with the sweets, but offered different pairs of numerals rather than treats.
You want to give two to Sarah? Ok.
Two goes to Sarah, and you get six.
Remarkably, chimps were now able to learn what they couldn't before: point in to the smaller number to get the bigger prize.
Symbols can make you free.
They can help distance an ape from its impulses.
But outside of the lab, apes don't seem to use symbols.
Still, ape minds seem to share many of the amazing features of the human mind.
They have sophisticated social emotions.
They can cooperate.
They have culture.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Their mental rocket is on the launch pad.
Why isn't it taking off? On an average day, human beings file thousands of patents, post tens of thousands messages over the Internet, and think millions of thoughts that have never been thought before.
Our closest relatives are different.
On a good day, an ape is lucky to use a tool to crack a nut.
What prevents ape culture from igniting like the human version? Recent studies that compare the human and ape mind are revealing something surprising.
Bonobos like Kanzi show their own kind of genius.
Kanzi, could you take off Sue's shoe? Could you take my shoe off, please? You might need to untie it.
Even skeptics agree that Kanzi understands more words than any other non-human animal.
He also uses an array of visual symbols to communicate.
But on closer inspection, Kanzi, like all great apes, lacks the full mental package.
Take Kanzi's use of language.
Most of the time, he will use these symbols to request things, to say "Take me there," or "Give me that.
" - M'nMs.
- You like M'nMs? Ok.
Now, Kanzi will not use those symbols to talk about the weather or to just make small talk, which is a very human thing.
When human infants communicate with others, they engage in a real conversation where each conversational turn is responsive to the turn that came before.
And they even ask for clarification if they need.
So you say "Huh?" or you say "Yeah," and you let the other one know how the communication is going.
To engage in a real conversation, each speaker needs a sense of what the other is thinking.
Call this skill mind-reading.
Young children have not fully developed it.
Hey, so Zoe, guess what we're going to do today? We're going to play a game with my Princess Sally here.
See, this is Princess Sally.
And she's got a ball that she really likes.
This is her ball.
But she needs to go away for a little bit, so Princess Sally is going to hide her ball right over here in the bag.
See Princess Sally hiding her ball right over there in the purple bag? Yeah? So here she goes.
She's going to go away for just a little bit.
Now while Princess Sally is away, we're going to play a little trick on her, okay? We're going to move her ball from the purple bag over here to the green bag.
See how we moved the ball over there? Okay, so guess what? Princess Sally is coming back.
Here she is.
She came back.
Can you tell me, where is Princess Sally going to first look for her ball? Over here in the green bag? Can you tell me, why is Princess Sally Three-year-olds make consistent mistakes about what others know.
The thing that's amazing about three-year-olds is how convinced they are about their wrong answer.
They're so sure that she's going to look for her ball where it really is because she wants it and that's where it is.
But by the age of four, most children are accomplished mind-readers.
Where is Sally first going to look for her ball? She's going to look in the purple bag, so she can find her ball.
She's going to look in the purple bag so she can find her ball.
As recently as 2001, studies seemed to show that apes don't know what others are thinking.
But then new experiments began to reveal unexpected skills.
In one study, as a chimp approaches a treat, Brian Hare moved it out of reach, establishing himself as a competitor.
Next Hare blocks his own view of one treats but leaves another within his sight.
It looks like they're generating a plan and saying to themselves, "Ok, I want that food, and the one I'm most likely to get is the one he's not looking at, or the one that, if I sneak around, he won't see me, and therefore I can have my yummy banana treat.
" This chimp seems to know what's on Hare's mind, what he can see and what he can't.
So chimps seem to share some of our skills of mind-reading.
Do we have any mental skills which are uniquely our own? A key clue comes from a new experiment.
Back at the University of Texas, Victoria Horner shows a chimp how to operate a puzzle box to get a treat.
First, she taps.
Then she slots.
Next she pokes.
The chimp copies fairly well and gets the sweet.
This game we're going to play is about this special box I brought, alright? There's a gummy bear.
It's your turn.
Children copy the actions, much as the chimps did.
Look, you got him.
Alright! There's the gummy bear.
Good job.
The second box that I show the chimpanzees is this one, and it's identical to the opaque box except that it's made out of material which is see-through.
Only now is it obvious that the tapping and poking don't achieve a thing: the box has a false ceiling.
The chimps cut to the chase.
They skip the needless steps.
For the apes it's all about the treat.
What this study shows is that apes don't just mindlessly ape.
They also understand something more about cause and effect.
We found something quite surprising.
The children were pre-disposed to copy, even when it meant that they were doing something that was really rather silly.
So this seems a little like the chimps are outsmarting the kids in this particular study.
There he is.
You got him out.
Why do children imitate slavishly? At the root of the children's behavior is the fact that they viewed me as a grownup, possibly as a teacher.
That children expect to be taught is a vital difference.
While apes can copy, most researchers believe they don't teach each other.
Learning from someone else is the fastest way to get a new idea: faster than learning by imitation, faster than inventing a new technology in the first place.
In children, a penchant for teaching appears -even before language kicks in- in the form of a deceptively simple gesture: pointing.
A toddler knows that the cup being pointed to is the one that hides a treat.
Parents love it when their kids start pointing because it's evidence that the kid's trying to communicate with them.
Parents definitely notice the difference between babies who just point to ask for things and babies who point to show them things.
Apes don't seem to get that kind of pointing.
It doesn't matter whether Brian Hare points or stares or orients his body, this young bonobo is unaware that he is trying to communicate.
They were clueless at using the information.
Even after lots and lots of trials, they didn't use the information I provided them.
And it was a big surprise to everybody.
Pointing relies on a particular mental skill, a little difference that makes a big difference.
Whenever I point, I'm actually directing your attention towards a third object.
And you have to understand that my attention is on that object, and that I'm asking you, now, to attend to the same object.
So there's sort of a triangle between us and the object.
This mental skill, this "triangle," turbocharges teamwork.
What you'll see with the human mother and baby is that the mother is constantly trying to show the baby what to do, and the baby is trying to tune into what the mother wants.
And so you have a full triangle of mother and baby and the thing in the environment that they are trying to work on.
It's a special cognitive achievement.
For some reason kids do this naturally, almost immediately.
And curiously, apes can't get into that.
At the moment we have no evidence that apes have shared goals based on shared commitments.
They do things together, they coordinate their actions together, but they don't have a shared commitment to a shared goal.
The triangle is the core skill that makes teaching possible.
Humans have it; apes seem to lack it.
But apes are also missing one more thing.
It's a key emotional driver: the passion to cheer each other on.
"Good," "good job," "well done.
" This kind of facilitation, giving a hand, encouragement, is the base of teaching.
It seems like it's not just a cognitive capacity that's necessary for teaching.
There's this other thing, which is wanting to teach, that seems to be really pervasive in humans and maybe mysteriously missing in apes.
The pieces are now coming together.
Apes have a culture, a rare achievement in the animal world.
They can learn from each other through imitation.
But this process is passive, often slow and can easily backslide.
Probably there's a lot of slippage.
There's a lot of loss of cultural innovations between generations when you're talking about a chimpanzee.
If an ape invents something new and important and interesting, maybe some others will learn it, maybe they won't.
Unique among animals, humans have both the passion and mental skill to teach each other.
When you're a student rather than a spectator, learning happens rapidly.
That's because teaching locks in progress.
Human culture traditions have a cumulative quality that each generation builds on the things of the previous generation.
So if you looked at the history of any interesting technology, it started out simple, and the children of that generation learned the simple version.
But then some genius made an improvement to it, and everyone follows right away, and we get this ratcheting up in complexity.
An ape may stand on another's shoulders, but only humans can stand on the intellectual shoulders of giants.
It's such a great privilege to be able to work with these animals and try to understand what's going on in their head when they look at you so gingerly and softly.
Is it they're thinking, "Oh, he's such a nice guy, and boy, I wish I knew what was going on in his head?" Or is she thinking, "Gosh, what's that spot? Is it dirt? Could I eat that?" In spite of their limitations, when we look into the eyes of a fellow ape, we don't feel a gap but a deep connection.
We can't resist a chimp reaching out for help, or a group of unrelated bonobos rallying to the defense of another, or a mother refusing to let go of her dead baby.
But as the most social of apes, we can't help reading thoughts and feelings into the mind behind any familiar face.
And perhaps that says more about us than them.