By Roberta L. Millstein
In a summer overly stuffed with horrible and depressing news, it's comforting to find a good tidbit here and there. A few of these recent tidbits have been about particular wild animals: A baby orca was born in Puget Sound and given the designation L-120, bringing the population of the "L Pod" up to 79. For the first time in decades, the tracks of a panther were seen in the Green Swamp, north of Polk City, Florida. And the wolf known as OR-7, after famously trekking into northern California before roaming back to Oregon, has found a mate with whom he has produced several wolf puppies.
People cheer, and are cheered by, these small stories of animal survival and reproduction. Is this silly sentimentalism? I don't think so, although I am not fully certain what to make of it, either.
Surely many of us, this author included, care deeply about the particular animals who live with us, not as representatives of their species, but for their particular personalities. Of course, none of us know OR-7 or L-120 the way we might know the cats or dogs who live with us. But then again, many people were sad (again, this author included) when Robin Williams committed suicide, even though they didn't know him. So, perhaps it is no more silly or overly sentimental to feel sad about the state-sponsored killing of the alpha wolf female of the Huckleberry Pack in Washington State. (In the latter case, one's sadness might well be mixed with anger).
Someone might think that what appears to be caring for individual wild animals is really caring for endangered species; wolves, panthers, and orcas are all endangered. Perhaps because the populations are so small, each individual matters so much. An animal's venturing into new territory or reproducing might make a crucial difference for the survival of the species or at least the population. So, we care about them for that reason.
I think there is something right about this, but I still don't think it fully accounts for why people care about these particular wild animals. Many people are fascinated by the story of OR-7 -- a (literally) lone wolf travelling hundreds of miles in search of a mate, to finally find one and have pups, who may themselves find their way to California one day and become California's first resident wolves in decades. (If you don't believe me, read this or this -- and yes, a movie is on the way). They follow these stories the same way they might follow those of athletes who overcome adversity and ultimately succeed.
If I am right -- if caring about individual wild animals is not silly sentimentalism and is no more strange than caring about individual humans who we haven't met -- what should we make of that as philosophers? Does it have ethical weight?
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