Ants & Apes

It’s often said that the cockroach will be the only surviving life form following a(n) [inevitable] future nuclear war. This cliche surfaced sometime during the Cold War when the threat of MAD was very real, and while today it’s often said half-jokingly, there is merit to the idea. The amount of radiation that a cockroach can survive is about 100 times the lethal dose for your typical homo sapien. (Interestingly enough, the German cockroach can withstand more radiation than their American counterpart, perhaps nature predicting Europe to be the battleground for this next nuclear world war.)

But I’m sure there will be plenty of survivors, beside the cockroaches. There are probably a lot of insects that can survive intense doses of radiation – presumably to keep the humble cockroach company.

Is humanity slated to survive? Who knows. But all talk of nuclear war aside, and despite our relatively low capacity for radiation, humanity has much in common with the insect world, perhaps even more than it does with other mammals – even such close relations as great apes. Specifically; cockroaches, ants, and other species which act as mindless automatons, working together to destroy their surroundings. But that’s not a fair categorization. The intent of these insects is not to destroy. It simply happens as a result of their actions. And thus the case with humanity: the unintentional ravaging that follows our every action.

Your typical ant colony has a certain structural hierarchy, which is dependent on a variety of things, chiefly amongst these – the sort of ant you’re talking about. Broadly, the colony will have its leaders, its workers, its breeders. And while humans enjoy the appearance of social or economic mobility, ants do not bother with such trivialities. Their position in life is set in stone. Still, modern human societies can be likened to the hierarchal structure of an ant colony much more easily than to, say, bands of primates. Your archetypal group of apes has a much more inexact hierarchy compared to ants. Anyone can groom anyone. Certainly not the case with contemporary homo sapiens.

Ants, as well as termites, can also be fairly destructive. Many sorts of ants – and nearly all termites – burrow into wood: ants for living quarters, termites for sustenance. In this way, they can wreck havoc on any sort of tree or wooden structure. It is somewhat of an unsustainable pattern – the wood eventually becomes consumed, and the insects in question must move on.

Locust are another well-known scourge. Commonly referred to as grasshoppers, this nonthreatening moniker is dropped when they begin flying in huge swarms and devouring any plant life they happen upon. Perhaps a comparison between humanity and locust is wise. Anyone who has flown into a major urban center can attest to the way in which humans can drastically change the landscape. Flying into JFK, descending over Long Island, one is struck by how much the narrow swath of land is developed. A festering sore comprised of rows of identical buildings, with roads etched along in a determined pattern. A harsh viewpoint – but I’m sure it’s a wonderful place to live (when you’re at ground-level, unable to see the forest but for the trees).

How far can we take this comparison, between humanity’s “progress” and the daily grind of insects? Some might carry this line of thought further than others. Some might reject the comparison altogether, feeling slighted by being compared to ants. Personally I don’t know if a better parallel can be had, between that of your typical homo sapien and worker ant. But that’s a bit bleak.

The obvious differentiation for the skeptic is between the ants’ static existence, and humanity’s constantly evolving one. The ant has done its menial chores in a specific way for millennia, perhaps only stopping to take into account changes such as square two-by-fours and pressure-treated lumber. The homo sapien, on the other hand, has been constantly changing its modus operandi. The fascinating thing, however, is that as the homo sapien swaggers away from its roots, i.e., that of a simple primate, it begins to resemble more and more the unfulfilling, tedious life of the ant. Picking ticks off of your fellow hairy apes might not seem like a satisfying existence, but it’s only a question of scale before you begin to see contemporary humanity as an entirely too large ant colony. Admittedly, the primary consequence of this way of thinking is a demoralized, disheartened view of our existence on this planet. This can be advantageous however, since humanity has a tendency of holding itself in entirely too high regard.

Simple apes or autonomous drones. Is there no middle ground? There must be, and, if only to remain sane, we must decide on an individual basis where to place our species. All of this depends on a variety of factors, most prominently – how deluded we are, and how we examine humanity. What framework we use. The comparison between humans and ants works best on a societal level. Our civilizations, our particular groupings, our collective idiosyncrasies. Our failings. Framing the species this way, we’re bound to arrive at bleak conclusions. But if we’re to look at homo sapiens on a much closer and personal level – at the familial or individual level, say – then the comparison to ants and insects does not work as well. Ants secrete odd substances to communicate, and split off of known paths at 60 degree angles to forage. They don’t display a huge amount of character or personality – something periodically found in humans. This perspective brings us back to our hairier ancestors. We forage for food and pick ticks like any good primate. Our ways are just more complicated: we exchange monetary units for prepackaged foodstuffs, and use toxic chemicals to rid ourselves of our various bugs. Same fundamental activities. No more, no less than the pathetic-looking gorilla covered in feces which we stare at in the zoo – or watch procreating on Animal Planet.

But after all this ruminating, these comparisons are still not pertinent. Whether homo sapiens more closely resemble ants or apes; it does not impact our way of life. We will go on living as we have. (Unless of course a person finds all of this too depressing.) This is what ties us closer to both insects and mammals, and indeed all life on Earth. Humans operate on the same basic principles of any animal, reacting to different stimuli – base cause and effect, with the overarching goal being happiness. Other animals are just more ignorant of this underlying motivation. They drink because they’re thirsty, because of a basic urge – not cognizant of the complete picture, that quenching their thirst results in satisfaction or happiness. “Lesser animals” do not think to the future, they’re too busy attending to their basic wants and needs in the here and now. The homo sapien is constantly thinking twenty or thirty years ahead, denying itself in the present in the hope of some hypothetical better future. In this sense both the ants and apes have us beat. But since we can burn them with magnifying glasses and lock them into cages (respectively (usually)), it all balances out in the end. I think.