A few weeks ago a small and bedraggled cuddly toy appeared in my house, looking like something the cat dragged in. When another bedraggled toy appeared a few days later, it became clear that it was something the cat dragged in. She now has four cuddly toys. I think of them as hers – but does she? In 1776, philosopher Adam Smith noted a curious fact about animals: they don’t appear to own things. “Nobody ever saw a dog make a fair and deliberate exchange of one bone for another with another dog,” he wrote in The Wealth of Nations. In many respects Smith was right. Only humans have a complex system of property and property rights. But some animals do have rudimentary notions of “yours” and “mine”. Primates, for example, often show respect for possession. If an individual is holding an object, others, even those more dominant in the group, generally let them keep it. Captive chimps can also be taught a more complex understanding of possession. They are willing to work for tokens that can be accumulated and exchanged for food, and understand the difference between their stash and that of other chimps. But behaviour like that has never been seen in the wild. Some wild animals arguably do have possessions: birds’ nests, beavers’ dams, spiders’ webs and so on. Squirrels and scrub jays cache food and will often move items to keep them safe. Magpies and bowerbirds collect shiny and colourful objects to attract mates. And many animals defend a territory. But none of these behaviours come close to the sophistication of human ownership. The reason is simple: language. Without words, mutually understood rules and institutions to enforce them cannot exist. So whatever I think of my cat’s toys, it is unlikely that she agrees.
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