COLLECTIVE SECURITY

Waikato Times, Volume 125, Issue 20917, 23 September 1939, Page 13 (Supplement)

COLLECTIVE SECURITY

Practised by Animals : Remarkable Facts (Sunday Express.)

Collective security has been practised for countless years in the animal world, and in some instances it presents striking parallels to our human interpretation of the term. Unity, however, is not always synonymous with strength. Thus the vast congregations of pelagic life that are found thronging the surface waters of the sea more often than not make the individuals forming them highly vulnerable to foes. The whale, for example, ploughs through and engulfs vast colonies of small animals. But amongst the higher animals we do indeed see some crude foreshadowings of that safety which is supposed to lie in numbers. Much as man discovered the virtue which lies in “pack’ formation, so the primates and some other creatures form societies which hold their own, where isolated individuals would fall an easy prey to the first foe. The wandering baboons of African plains are a Classic Example. A baboon community is an aggregation of family parties, each under the dominance of an overlord, the ovetlords forming a sort of committee which directs—largely by force—the general movements of the entire body. Innumerable stories have been told by reliable witnesses of the well-organised battle array of these powerful monkeys, who may persuade even the lion and leopard to give them the road. A baboon troupe in retreat fights a skilfully planned rearguard action, the safety of weaklings, being covered by the hardier males. The Rock of Gibraltar was once the home of two bands of rock monkeys that were in perpetual feud with one another, each jealously guarding its own territorial rights, but readily combining to harass or defy the common foe—the unfortunate humans in the town below. Private property and civic dignity at last became so victimised by these precocious monkeys that concerted action had to be taken against them under the leadership of the redoubtable Sergeant Brown. This feud—covering nearly two decades—forms one of the most amusing passages in the history of any garrison town. Considerably lower in the animal scale we find collective security heartily appreciated. Lions, wolves, hyenas, and many other predatious animals frequently work in packs under the leadership of elders. At Whipsnade, the wolf colony, whilst relatively docile by day, becomes quite unsafe to approach with the coming of twilight, the whole community may then be observed advancing in crescentric formation, senior animals acting as “n.o.c.s” and urging on or curbing the exuberance of the younger males. In the great company of hoofed animals the same principles are also seen in action. At the London Zoo a remarkable example of this is provided by the wild sheep and goats on the Mappin Terrace. Should one of the staff terriers kept for ratting purposes appear near the rockery, all the animals thereon Automatically Assume Battle Formation. Old males lead the van, younger males form a rank behind them, and females with young bring up the rear. The whole then slowly advances, stamping in unison with such dramatic effect that the hitherto officious dog discreetly remembers a pressing engagement and loses no time in keeping it, despite the safety afforded by an intervening ditch and parapet.

Both wild and tame cattle habitually form a hollow square when attacked, the elders presenting lowered horns to the foe, and thus sometimes successfully repelling even such a formidable foe as a pack of wolves, under equally efficient generalship. All kinds of mammals more or less post sentries—for in a large community, for example, it is seldom that the whole are asleep simultaneously. The sentinels of a herd of walrus asleep on an ice floe have been seen to wake their near companions with prods from their tusks, this danger signal being passed on from one to another until every animal is on the alert. At Whipsnade the entire prairie marmot colony may be basking in the sun, but at a warning whistle from an “outpost” disappears as one animal into the many A.R.P. shelters so effectually dug by these industrious little rodents in the chalk hillside. In the Alps marmots spend the whole winter inside their burrows in profound sleep. In summer they collect in large colonies on mountain slopes, each colony having a Sentry Posted to Give Warning of impending danger. At the smallest cause for alarm the sentry gives a piercing whistle-like scream which is taken up by other sentries, whereupon the marmots rush to take cover. To a lesser degree collective security is well appreciated by many social birds. The alert sentinels of a “gaggle” of geese are familiar instances and equally well known is the vigour with which such birds as starlings and sparrows will combine to mob a hawk. The security afforded by the shoaling habits of many fish is open to some doubt, though not in the case of the di’eaded Caribe, or Pirhana, of Brazil. This fish, though only about six inches long, can, when in massed formation, cut to pieces with its razor-edged teeth even such massive animals as the tapir. The first taint of blood in the water brings a vast shoal together, as though by magic, when nothing can save the victim. There is a well-authenticated instance of a man and horse being killed by these fish, only the bones, clothing, and harness being left to bear witness to the tragedy. The Communistic activities of the social insects—the bees, wasps, ants, and termites —are well known. These insects have Developed Collective Security on such elaborate lines that many people have been deceived into endowing them with superhuman intelligence. The ants and termites in particular build vast subterranean cities, cultivate crops, exercise an elaborate birth control, and bring to bear on foes weapons which mimic with horrible fidelity some of our latest engines of destruction. Capek’s famous insect play is an example of how the insects have persuaded educated people to endow them with human qualities to which they are not entitled. Human collective security has made obvious advances in the course of 60 centuries. What the ants and termites do they have done for millions of years, and so will probably continue to do without hope of change for better or for worse. A baboon or wild ox community shows some capacity to change its tactics in order to cope with an emergency, but the most complex ant community continues on the time-honoured course with no more power to meet the demands of the moment than a runaway motor-car.