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In the Western context, the fear of wild animals reflects our distorted perception of risk, not the risk itself. Unfortunately, this is a consequential fallacy that victimizes carnivores.
The phrase “the perception of risk” is strikingly revealing. It reminds us that risks exist not only as objective entities but also as fluid phenomena amplified or minimized by our beliefs and feelings. Indeed, when we discuss risks, we often speak of emotionally coloured views of things we fear, both real and imagined. Inescapably, in public discourse and private confessions, risk and risk perception emerge as two separate notions that more often diverge than overlap.
Humans’ fear of wildlife exemplifies this tenuous relationship between reality and our perception of it. We fear wild animals, especially those whom nature has endowed with claws, sharp teeth, and large, intimidating bodies. Evolutionary wiring has ingrained this fear in us, while the sensationalized media and the social amplification of risk help keep it alive.
However, in the Western context, the extent of such fears no longer matches reality. It hasn’t for a long while. The risk of a predator-inflicted injury or death is minuscule, as wildlife researchers keep reminding us. The statistical likelihood of injurious encounters with bears, for example, ranks well below the dangers of swimming, driving, or even biking. And yet, the perception of grave risk associated with predators stubbornly perseveres. It remains as resistant to facts as are wild conspiracy theories that only get stronger from futile attempts to debunk them.
Indeed, in the human mind, an actual risk and the perception of that risk diverge, and it is the latter that carries more weight. The very thought of predators still engenders dread in us, and if one of them happens to cross our path on a lonely, forested trail, the body instantly freezes, while the heart pounds hard. Yes, fearsomeness intimidates; it has the power to unravel both physiology and the mind.
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The research on risk perception shows that we are especially attuned to dangers whose outcomes we find horrifying. We tend to confuse two qualities that characterize any risk: stakes and odds. Stakes define the amount of harm and suffering related to a given risk, while odds refer to the likelihood of this risk occurring. Frequently, the fearsomeness of the former overrides the improbability of the latter. For example, deaths in the aftermath of a nuclear power plant disaster might be unlikely, but the terrifying vision of skin peeling off the human body overpowers statistical numbers. It is this image that comes first, retrieved from a vast library of graphic thoughts, all of them instantly available and marked with emotional states.
This is how we think and make sense of the world, as we constantly translate the complexity of life into a shuffle of flashing images with affective labels attached to them. Fear imprints on the mind a mental picture of its sight. When the words “bear attack” are heard, in an instant, a vivid image of a blood-stained body in the grips of ferocious claws appears to the inner eye. This instinctual, automatic process precedes any logical reasoning. Indeed, it can hinder it, because not only do emotionally charged images arrive first, they also dwarf everything that follows. The rush of feelings spills over-analytical thoughts, merges with them, drowns them in their current. The stronger the emotion, the weaker the reasoning, and once the immediate emotions intensify, they progressively override rational decision-making. Or, as Cass Sustein plainly states, “emotional activity dampens cognitive activity.”
But how could it be otherwise? After all, slow, logical reasoning must withstand not only dread-generating mental images but also the pressure of suddenly palpable physiology. Inevitably, reason becomes besieged. It needs to counter the panic-stricken sympathetic nervous system that alarms the body with increased heartbeat, rapid breathing, and clammy sweat. Filled with fear, we find it hard not to succumb to the discomfort. Logic suffers as the disoriented mind rationalizes irrational fear of predators. And here it is; instead of allowing facts or reality to guide us, we let an instinctual panic take over.
Not only that, though. The body also gets to remember the unease of the earlier dread. Both mental and physiological discomfort lodge permanently in the psyche and linger there, waiting to be instantly released at the very thought, recall of their initial cause. Each time we think about a possible attack by a carnivore, a cascade of previously recorded emotions comes to the surface. Anticipated emotions, we call them. They arise from the current contemplation of a future event, “dampen cognitive activity,” and again rule over our decision-making process, no matter what we may have learned.
The killing of a carnivore is not an act to make a community safe but to make a community feel safe.
No wonder, then, that so many bears, cougars and wolves have died of fear. Our fear. In urban neighbourhoods bordering wilderness, humans’ intolerance for nature kills carnivores. Distraught by an animal’s presence, a resident calls conservation officers, who then kill a bear or a cougar Was there a genuine danger to the public? Is each killing justified? Statistics comparing wildlife encounters to human injuries prove that the answer to these questions is “no.” It doesn’t matter, though. The killing of a carnivore is not an act to make a community safe but to make a community feel safe. A bullet is both an executioner and a sedative. It kills an animal but sedates a man.
Is the barrel of a rifle, however, the only way to wrestle with this fear? Are we doomed to get rid of wildlife only because we can’t rid ourselves of the irrationality within? No, there is hope, but it requires bypassing the domains of logic and reasoning. As Jonathan Swift wrote, “reasoning will never make a man correct an ill opinion, which by reasoning he never acquired.” It was as true in the seventeen-century as it is now.
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…one would conclude that what was encoded by emotion cannot be decoded by logic.
Indeed, research shows that verbal reasoning fails to alter people’s evolutionary, instinctual fears. What’s worse, any change of views becomes especially challenging once a reservoir of our inherent emotions gets rattled by the sensationalized media and the inflammatory word of mouth. Reasoned persuasion loses because intellectual processing is not “compatible with the information-processing system maintaining the fear reactions.” To paraphrase Swift with modern scientific terminology, one would conclude that what was encoded by emotion cannot be decoded by logic.
If that’s the case, any effective “decoding” must also traverse the emotional path and reach our feelings independently of reason. Habitat exposure is one way to accomplish this. Following the premises of cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), it is based on direct exposure to animals that engender fears or phobias (exposure in vivo) combined with careful behaviour modelling. Since the experiential nature of the approach involves our emotional functioning, it offers a chance to reach deeply rooted instinctual fears. And it works, at least in the case of snakes and spiders. Habitat exposure to these phobia-inducing animals has been shown to effectively decrease the dread and feelings of anxiety commonly associated with them.
Would it work, however, with large carnivores such as bears, wolves or cougars? We don’t know because we haven’t tried. And we haven’t tried because exposing the public to large carnivores in a natural setting presents obvious safety challenges and contraindications. In contrast to our fear of completely harmless animals, such as most spiders and snakes encountered in urban neighbourhoods in North America, the fear of large carnivores is not entirely irrational; it is simply excessive. If mistreated or provoked, carnivores can turn violent, and they have sufficient physical prowess to inflict harm.
That’s why, in this case, advocating habitat exposure to conquer the feelings of dread comes with caveats. Under some circumstances, we can become victims of our success. The behaviour of a crowd of people, who, cameras in hand, approach or even block a black bear, proves just that. A reasonable measure of fear and respect gives in to carelessness. In the worst scenario, a hostile confrontation might occur that sometimes turns tragic for a human and almost always for a bear.
Ignorance can thus contain apparent opposites: panic and overconfidence. It is the human tendency to shift between the two extremes that leaves compassionate conservationists at the crossroads. In their message to the public, a seeming dichotomy takes place. Bears are mostly peaceful, compassionate conservationists rightly argue, and our fears of them are vastly exaggerated. It is, indeed, the truth. At the same time, however, they also stress that we need to be careful and respectful when encountering a bear and never corner one, because it may provoke an attack. Again, this is true, as well.
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Of course, there is no contradiction here. It is not the compassionate messaging that is at fault but the unfortunate human tendency to oscillate between emotional extremes. Instead of understanding the message in its full complexity and nuance, the public distorts it into the one-dimensional behavioural guidance of intensely fearing predators or not fearing them at all. Contrasting affective attitudes take turns, as dread gets supplanted with overconfidence. Or vice-versa. One misconception elbows out the other. All this adds a layer of complexity to Swift’s statement. Yes, logic cannot correct misguided emotions, but neither, it seems, can a different emotional messaging. The former fails to reach instinctually formed beliefs, while the latter replaces these beliefs with equally erroneous ones.
What to do, then? As often in life, the answer lies in a holistic approach. What reasoning and emotions cannot do alone, their synthesis might finally accomplish. Complementing exposure in vivo with relevant knowledge and facts is likely to help address the shortcomings of imparting logic or feelings alone. The large-carnivore management literature argues precisely that. Public participation in projects that entail both learning about carnivores and first-hand experiences with them shows the promise of forming attitudes and beliefs more conducive to ensuring our peaceful coexistence with wild animals. Two goals are simultaneously achieved. Combining passive education with exposure in vivo lessens our fears of carnivores and allows us to maintain a healthy dose of caution that can ultimately save many animals from unnecessary death.
Sentient beings must not die because, for conservation officials, acceding to myths, pressures, and exaggerated fears is the easiest and the most opportunistic choice.
Moreover, it is imperative that the true extent of risk, not the inflated one, drives the public policies regarding carnivores. Sentient beings must not die because, for conservation officials, acceding to myths, pressures, and exaggerated fears is the easiest and the most opportunistic choice. As in other areas of life – public health and the response to the pandemic being salient examples – scientific expertise needs to be listened to and applied, even if it runs counter to the unsubstantiated views of the large and vocal swath of the citizenry.
A different paradigm must thus guide our interactions with wildlife. There is hope, then, and it is high time for this hope to materialize itself. Our antagonistic, millennia-long relationship with nature urgently needs redefining. In contrast to prehistoric times, our lives, at least in the Western world, are no longer at the mercy of wild animals. It is they, instead, whose existence depends on us.
Despite what the cliché says, the past does not determine the future. The cruelty can end, and the perception of risk lies at the core of the challenge to achieve peaceful coexistence with carnivores. This perception needs to change, so other changes can then take place. It is a crucial, indispensable task. It is also the one that requires our hearts and minds to come together.
