I confess. When it comes to comprehending what some consider fundamental behavioral terminology, I am impaired. As soon as people start throwing jargon around, my eyes glaze and I can feel my brain cells shutting down, one by one. True, I also experience this problem when it comes to medical terminology, particularly now that I’ve reached the age when micro-organisms and surgical techniques receive make-overs and new names to go with them on what seems like an almost daily basis. However, keeping up with animal behavioral jargon is much more challenging because those working in this area come from such diverse backgrounds. Within academia, these include practically all of the medical, behavioral, and biological sciences and their many subdivisions, spin-offs, and specialties. Outside academia, we find trainers, breeders, groomers, handlers, and an abundance of other animal-related professionals. Each one of these groups adds their own jargon to the obscure language that increasing clogs animal-related publications.
This leads me to ask the obvious question: Does all this jargon promote better understanding of problem animal behavior and how to resolve it, or does it actually hinder this? Let’s consider “aggression,” a word that regularly pops up in the behavioral and training literature. What exactly does aggression mean?
Behaviorists, ethologists, veterinarians, trainers, and others in animal-related professions as well as animal owners and those in the media routinely apply this word to animals as if it actually possessed some concrete meaning. Admittedly, to them it often does. However, whether their meaning agrees with anyone else’s meaning isn’t something I’d bet my old sneakers on, let alone anything I value.
Recall the truism, “When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” People who take a problem-oriented approach to animal behavior see aggression strictly as a problem. According to this definition, aggression is synonymous with violence and hostility. Some of those who take the problem-oriented approach further simplify matters by equating the problem with the whole animal. When Spot or Fluff bites someone, these folks will then refer to those animals as aggressive. Other problem-oriented folks separate the aggressive behavior from the animal. To them behaviors, not animals, are aggressive. Still, among all those who take a problem-oriented approach, all aggression is a problem. No such thing as either “good” or nonviolent aggression exists.
At the other end of the spectrum, we have those who take an ethological approach to animal behavior that includes both normal and problem displays. Within this context, aggression functions as a normal part of animal life. Some individuals in this group also distinguish between active (violent) or passive (manipulation via submissive displays) forms of aggression. Within this school of thought, aggression poses a problem only when an animal expresses it under inappropriate circumstances or in an inappropriate way, which they call maladaptive (as opposed to adaptive) aggression . Thus, it’s perfectly all right and even desirable for animal parents to respond hostilely to those who threatens their offspring. However, it is not acceptable for those same animals to respond that way to their own young or human care-givers.
Further adding to the aggression jargon are those who study the full spectrum of normal or problem animal behavior who define specific kinds of animal aggression. Now things get really hairy because experts from different disciplines may apply different labels to the same aggressive displays. Academics in the biological sciences may use different labels than those in the human behavioral or veterinary medical sciences, and all of their labels and jargon may differ from that used by those outside academia. Those in one animal-related profession in one part of the world may use jargon that differs from that used by those in same profession somewhere else. Even within a particular discipline in a particular country (or even university or training group!), disagreements may arise over what a particular aggressive display should be called or even if it exists.
Meanwhile pet owners who just want well-behaved animals may use their own definitions of aggression which they see as far less obscure than any of the above.
What does all this mean to those of us trying to provide the highest quality support to our own or others’ animals when they experience problems? It means that we must ensure that those with whom we work share our definitions for such commonly tossed about words such as “aggression,” “separation anxiety,” “positive reinforcement,” or any other of the host of terms that increasingly dot the behavioral landscape. We must not delude ourselves that others automatically share our definitions or, worse, that our definitions represent those given by some Ultimate Authority which we must impose on others.
Anyone can create and use jargon just as anyone can create a secret language that only a few can comprehend. What really requires knowledge and skill is the ability to explain even the most complex animal behaviors in terms that anyone can easily understand.
I confess. When it comes to comprehending what some consider fundamental behavioral terminology, I am impaired. As soon as people start throwing jargon around, my eyes glaze and I can feel my brain cells shutting down, one by one. True, I also experience this problem when it comes to medical terminology, particularly now that I’ve reached the age when micro-organisms and surgical techniques receive make-overs and new names to go with them on what seems like an almost daily basis. However, keeping up with animal behavioral jargon is much more challenging because those working in this area come from such diverse backgrounds. Within academia, these include practically all of the medical, behavioral, and biological sciences and their many subdivisions, spin-offs, and specialties. Outside academia, we find trainers, breeders, groomers, handlers, and an abundance of other animal-related professionals. Each one of these groups adds their own jargon to the obscure language that increasing clogs animal-related publications.
This leads me to ask the obvious question: Does all this jargon promote better understanding of problem animal behavior and how to resolve it, or does it actually hinder this? Let’s consider “aggression,” a word that regularly pops up in the behavioral and training literature. What exactly does aggression mean?
Behaviorists, ethologists, veterinarians, trainers, and others in animal-related professions as well as animal owners and those in the media routinely apply this word to animals as if it actually possessed some concrete meaning. Admittedly, to them it often does. However, whether their meaning agrees with anyone else’s meaning isn’t something I’d bet my old sneakers on, let alone anything I value.
Recall the truism, “When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” People who take a problem-oriented approach to animal behavior see aggression strictly as a problem. According to this definition, aggression is synonymous with violence and hostility. Some of those who take the problem-oriented approach further simplify matters by equating the problem with the whole animal. When Spot or Fluff bites someone, these folks will then refer to those animals as aggressive. Other problem-oriented folks separate the aggressive behavior from the animal. To them behaviors, not animals, are aggressive. Still, among all those who take a problem-oriented approach, all aggression is a problem. No such thing as either “good” or nonviolent aggression exists.
At the other end of the spectrum, we have those who take an ethological approach to animal behavior that includes both normal and problem displays. Within this context, aggression functions as a normal part of animal life. Some individuals in this group also distinguish between active (violent) or passive (manipulation via submissive displays) forms of aggression. Within this school of thought, aggression poses a problem only when an animal expresses it under inappropriate circumstances or in an inappropriate way, which they call maladaptive (as opposed to adaptive) aggression . Thus, it’s perfectly all right and even desirable for animal parents to respond hostilely to those who threatens their offspring. However, it is not acceptable for those same animals to respond that way to their own young or human care-givers.
Further adding to the aggression jargon are those who study the full spectrum of normal or problem animal behavior who define specific kinds of animal aggression. Now things get really hairy because experts from different disciplines may apply different labels to the same aggressive displays. Academics in the biological sciences may use different labels than those in the human behavioral or veterinary medical sciences, and all of their labels and jargon may differ from that used by those outside academia. Those in one animal-related profession in one part of the world may use jargon that differs from that used by those in same profession somewhere else. Even within a particular discipline in a particular country (or even university or training group!), disagreements may arise over what a particular aggressive display should be called or even if it exists.
Meanwhile pet owners who just want well-behaved animals may use their own definitions of aggression which they see as far less obscure than any of the above.
What does all this mean to those of us trying to provide the highest quality support to our own or others’ animals when they experience problems? It means that we must ensure that those with whom we work share our definitions for such commonly tossed about words such as “aggression,” “separation anxiety,” “positive reinforcement,” or any other of the host of terms that increasingly dot the behavioral landscape. We must not delude ourselves that others automatically share our definitions or, worse, that our definitions represent those given by some Ultimate Authority which we must impose on others.
Anyone can create and use jargon just as anyone can create a secret language that only a few can comprehend. What really requires knowledge and skill is the ability to explain even the most complex animal behaviors in terms that anyone can easily understand.