animal attachment and grief

I have started Frans de Waal’s book Mama’s Last Hugabout animal feelings and making the case that we, humans and other animals, experience many of these in common.  The story of Mama is quite interesting.  She was a remarkable chimpanzee who was the organizing force in her group for many years, not because she was physically formidable, though for a female she was, but because of her personality and social IQ.  Her human researchers came to respect her a great deal and were quite attached, so that when her death was immanent, one of her old human friends came to say good-bye.  Their reunion was heartfelt on both sides and she died some few days later. De Waal uses this story to introduce several facts about chimpanzees, their humans and how research is conducted/interpreted.

Then De Waal goes where few have gone before—he discusses how other animals view death.  What a scientist, doing the research and communicating it to us.   He first recounts what the humans did after Mama’s death.  Breaking with protocol the humans let her body lie in state, as it were, for the other chimps to view.  The males hit and tossed the body as if to wake her up; the females were gentler, lifting an arm or leg and letting it drop, looking into her mouth, etc. When one female tried to move her body, a foster daughter, whom Mama had raised after her friend had died leaving her infant behind, protested and prevented the body being moved.

De Waal recounts another observation wherein a younger chimp came up to an elder female who had been quite sick for some time, looked into her eyes and gave a scream of alarm.  Another chimp, too far removed to have observed this interaction, took up the cry of alarm and others followed.  A few minutes later the sick chimp fell to the floor and passed away.

De Waal gives many more anecdotes about how animals experience the death of another and he cites Barbara King’s 2013 book How Animals Grievein establishing observational guidelines for determining if an animal is grieving, e.g., a marked change in behavior.  Many species, including most mammals and some birds, show such changes.  Animals show awareness that the other is dead and if they were attached, they grieve.  Chimpanzee and cetacean mothers have been known to carry/support their dead offspring around for days.  Elephants visit the site of another’s death and pick up and hold a remnant, e.g., a bone or a tusk, of the deceased (remember this happens repeatedly over a long passage of time) and even pass it around to others in the herd.  And of course, we have many stories of dogs waiting for their dead humans’ return in the spot where their reunion used to occur, e.g., Greyfriar’s Bobby.

Working from a human’s sense of mortality, i.e., our awareness of our own demise, that we cannot confirm in other species, de Waal suggests perspicaciously that these others have at least a sense of finality—that a life is irrevocably over.  Consider how such a sense of finality works when an animal loses someone to whom they are attached.  Jaak Panksepp discusses the biological basis of attachment and loss in a chapter of his wonderful book, Affective Neuroscience.   Two systems operate in an oppositional tandem, one he calls the PANIC system that deals with separation from caregivers and another that inhibits that system in response to renewed social comfort.  The two systems depend upon different neurotransmitters yet still interact quite a bit.

Panksepp makes several interesting points.  The social comfort system is based upon one of the opiate receptor systems and the oxytocin system.  When the PANIC system is aroused, that motivates seeking social contact and comfort, i.e., gregariousness.  When social comfort is obtained, the opiate system inhibits the PANIC system. (Consider the important factor of joblessness and depressed communities in our current opiod epidemic).  Mammals become attached to a home location, so that just being ‘home’ reduces separation distress. (Our mostly warm feelings upon returning to the old home place may be another manifestation of this). Different species and different individuals within a species have different sensitivities to social distress. The famous example of the two voles, one monogamous and one not, show different sensitivities here.  Also, in general males are less sensitive to separation distress, presumably mediated by testosterone, than females (this in most species) and we are all less affected by separation as we age.  All of these phenomena reflect the neurochemical balances in our brains and body.

Panksepp cites research showing that chicks give a distinctive peep when distressed and that putting a mirror in their enclosure or petting them reduces the frequency of those peeps because the chicks ‘see’ or feel that they are not alone.  Most interestingly, listening to music also calms the PANIC system and so represents a form of social comfort.  Panksepp and others have studied how some music gives us ‘chills’, a sign of distress, and also warms us up, a sign of social comfort.  That music operates at such a basic level in our neurological systems is of profound interest.  Remember that Alzheimers’ patients often keep musical memories better than other sorts of memories—our brains preserve this form of social connectedness even as other functions deteriorate.

I always learn something new when I review sections of Panksepp’s book.  In this instance, the social regulation systems, i.e., PANIC and social connection/comfort, are anciently tied to the thermoregulation system that promotes homeostasis (thus all mammals share something of this).  Music, as it interacts with these systems, chills or warms us; it motivates small variations around the homeostatic range, and this feels good (or lovely or beautiful or aesthetically pleasing, etc.).  He finishes his chapter 14 with this, that some music generates “a wistful sense of loss and the possibility of reunion”.  (Hmmm, did he love listening to Americana and Celtic tunes like I do now?)  But also, we animals grieve with loss, knowing the other is finally gone yet still yearning for more contact, and that helps us maintain our homeostatic balance set in place over the years of social comfort with our intimates.  So Greyfriar’s Bobby, that wonderful dog who waited for his human to return from work for years after the human’s death, was listening to the neural music of attachment and grief and keeping it steady as she goes.

I will conclude this post with an observation by Susanne Langer (of course) who said that humans’ distinctive minds began when we realized that our lives are but single acts with a beginning and an end.  Knowing this began a cascade of insight into our existence and understanding of our ownmortality.  And reflecting on this illuminates how this sense/knowledge of our ownmortality lies at the heart of much cultural development, including our religion and philosophy, as we share our feelings about cope with the loss of others and ourselves.  And our science helps us to understand this more deeply.  Travel on.

 

Intimacy and MEMBRAIN 2.0: ripening and bruising

I have been thinking more about the MEMBRAIN with its intimate functioning and its risk of disruption (think recent news reports of sexual assaults on campus). Imagine a head of cauliflower, how it develops up from the stem, expands through the addition of increasingly differentiated flowerets, and then ripens as a model of the brain. The growth follows two gradients, first from the inside out and of course, bottom to top.

plain

Looking at the ‘brain’ from the bottom we can see how its growth spreads and expands through differentiated tissues. Our brains start with a neural tube from which all the nerve and glial cells emerge and then travel to their assigned place; the tube ends up being the ventricles wherein cerebral-spinal fluid is made to bathe the cells in nutrients. At the head of the tube the midbrain and cerebrum form with all their lobes and wrinkles.

basal

Imagine further that different vertical structures operate with different neurotransmitters, so that some of the ‘florets’ are one color and some another, some fire up quickly in passing and some slow and sustained, and then further that ‘floret’ tops communicate with each other through long fibers front and back (green bands), left and right (commissures). Get the picture? (Yes, we see).

af

As stated in the last post, intimacy involves very open MEMBRAIN functions, much is let in and out, not much is kept in or out. This permeability is managed through the arousal (and then the attentional) system that initiates from a central structure and goes up into the cerebrum. That is the red circle at top. Indeed, when you watch an fMRI you can see the intensity of arousal rising up through the middle and then spreading out as the lateral systems begin to process front and back, left and right.

arousal

We start our intimate journey at the outset with our parents when our brains are beginning to ripen, i.e., mature. When we attach and bond with them we are using and developing lower and central structures and because the right side matures earlier than the left, we are also using our right hemisphere more. The mother-child communication is done with the right side of the brain.

Mother-Child_face_to_face

These experiences are important for oh so many reasons, particularly because this helps us develop our control of emotional arousal and thus MEMBRAIN permeability. Wow! And later, as the left hemisphere comes into its own, the child learns to attend to fine motor tasks while ensconced in a safe, nurturant and guiding relationship.

Father child

Now some early events can bruise the ripening fruit and affect its subsequent development, subtly affecting its capacity for intimacy. Should the mother become unavailable through emotional difficulties, illness, substance abuse, physical absence (think military deployment), or death, this loss can affect how the brain ripens. Likewise, trauma, especially family violence and sexual abuse, bruises the brain and this bruise can be seen in the deficient development of emotional control and the subsequent compromise of intimacy. And this is important because we start by developing our intimacy capacity as we travel on to develop our intellectual abilities.

Consider two features of children with attachment disorders and/or an early history of family based trauma. The first is that they want constantly and this want is rarely satisfied. The parent (figure) can give and give but the child does not take it in really; their MEMBRAIN is impervious to affection and its manifestations. You give them a hug and they want more or something else or you hugged another child so . . . or you give them shrimp and they want steak or . . .you get the idea. This emotional coldness extends to their own lack of empathic consideration for others. The second is that they do not operate with sequential reasoning very well and this includes responsibility for their own actions. Parents can watch the child’s misbehavior directly and then grow exasperated when the child denies its actions. When working with them therapists (and parents) have to back up a step and teach them to think in story board form like a comic strip, e.g., this follows from this and that follows from that. Their intellectual grasp of these matters was compromised when the MEMBRAIN was bruised early on.

The violation of intimacy by males sexually assaulting females is related to this and I will say more later about that, but I am also getting an itch to talk about other topics. So long for now.