The Mish Posish

This post will contain some naughty pictures of animals.  It's nothing worse than you would see on a PG-rated production on the Discovery Channel, but if you're particularly sensitive on account of being on this blog, I totally understand.  If it makes you feel better, I find primates icky.

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There's something I heard, again, a while ago that I kind of want to talk about now.  The first time I heard it, it was from a primatologist, and this statement is part of the reason I sometimes have difficulties with primatologists.  I have also seen it quoted online, though, in the years since bonobos became the animal of the day. (Now it's the honey badger.) The statement is, roughly, this: Bonobos are more sexually/interpersonally evolved than other animals on account of the fact that they have sex while facing each other.

Bonobos have only been identified as a species for a little over half a century or so, depending on who you ask.  They have only been intensely researched for a few decades.  Zoologists and comparative psychologists were of course astounded by the unique behaviour of the species: in contrast to their close chimpanzee relatives, they are quite nonviolent, females hold a lot of power, and they have lots and lots of crazy sex.  They have sex for many reasons: they have sex to calm everyone down, to build relations, or even to exchange favors.  They have sex with the opposite sex; they have sex with the same sex.  They have sex with their juveniles.  And, what was for some reason astonishing to researchers, they have sex in the missionary position.

The reason given was that because they are having intercourse face-on, it must add to the idea that sex in bonobos, like in humans and unlike in nearly every other animal, must play a very important social role and may even suggest a loving context.  After all, the face is the main outlet of emotion in primates, and we are a highly visual taxonomic order.  I say they are fascinated, "for some reason," though, because of this

this

and even this

Ignoring the fact that I probably have far too many pictures of lions at quick access, most ethologists would tell you that there isn't a whole lot going on between a male and female lion when they're doing their thing up to fifteen times a day.  Lions are also not terribly visual: they rely mostly on smell, like most mammals.  So what exactly is the deal here?

Well, as for why animals do it... we're not entirely sure.  Quite possibly, as it is with humans and weird positions, it's just a cool thing to do.  As for why some don't, though, or don't that often, it comes down to anatomy: if you've ever looked at a dog on his or her back, they're not quite as, erm, accessible as is a human on his or her back.  Any effort to make them more so would likely lead to at least some discomfort, particularly if you are a quadruped, with a quadrupedal spinal structure: you would need to have your entire body on top, pressing all the limbs that normally want to stick up back down, and things get way more complicated than is generally worth it.  In addition, a female is more prone on her back, and unable to escape.  A little more controversial, perhaps, but when you consider that rape seems much more common among apes, including humans, than quadrupeds, it may be that the missionary position developed to keep females safe and males "productive" among those species were rape is more frequent.

In any case, some primates in particular seem to have evolved towards the missionary position.  The spines of Old World apes are more erect.  Our limbs are very flexible.  Apart from humans, there is no animal that better exemplifies these crucial qualities than the bonobo.

On a side-note, and as an excuse for one more picture, have you ever wondered why human women have much larger breasts for their size than those of any other mammal?  It's not because of milk production: breast size has no impact on that.  It's not a conspiracy orchestrated by Playboy, either. (Or is it?) It's because they make a pretty great cushion in the missionary position, just as big butts do so in "doggy-style". (see Desmond Morris, The Naked Ape, 1967) And bonobos look to be heading in that direction.

So, is there something special about the missionary position?  Quite honestly, not one bit.  It's a side-effect of the anatomy that evolution has given us, and bonobos just happen to be on a similar pathway.  Sorry, bonobo fans.

Genes, Animals Mating, and You

Some conversations I’ve been having recently have had me considering how sex is different across species… but also how it is the same.  This isn’t a new train of thought for me, but it is a new topic for this blog, and I imagine the handful of readers who have found this page without my linking them directly to it or finding it through some other zoophilic page have probably been waiting for me to talk about animal sex.

The conversation in particular I’m thinking of had to do with vorephilia, specifically why it exists in the first place, and I as a well-read academic and aficionado of kinks, paraphilias and orientations of all kinds immediately jumped up to posit the theory (not my own, but someone else’s) that vorephilia – a paraphilia related to biting and swallowing – is vestigial of the biting that many mammals engage in while mating to give themselves a certain dominant role.

But then I thought: why do they do it?  Anyone who watches enough Animal Planet knows that the species who are known for it – cats, canines, bears, etc. – don’t always do it, and the female (or male receiver) tends to be submissive enough anyway without all the biting.  Indeed, a lot of the time it’s not even real biting, but just sort of a threat that he could bite her if he felt like it.  It appears to have little to do with physical necessity and far more to do with the psychological, so we’re back to square one.

From there, I can take a different direction and philosophize a little about how mating activities have evolved – sex across the ages, if you will.  Sexual selection in larger, more modern mammals, such as the ones mentioned above, tends to be quite complex, with the female exerting a great deal of power over precisely with whom she will mate with, and the male more or less needing to put up with this because the female, while being a bit smaller, still has many sharp devices at her disposal that she can use to make sure that even if he impregnates her against her will, he may well die of infection or of the difficulties any injury may cause him.  The only large mammals in which rape can be called by any stretch common are primates, in which the females lack this natural weaponry, or, in the case of humans, any injury incurred by the male will not pose too much of a threat to his life.

This changes when we get to smaller, simpler creatures, such as most rodents, for many of whom mating success for the males depends on how quickly he can mount and disable the female.  Mating, then, tends to be quite violent, and often does result in injury – presumably, the number of young in a litter is considered to be genetically “worth it”.  In order to prevent herself from being injured, though, it is better for the female to be submissive, since, unlike the male, she cannot be mortally injured at the time of copulation and still have healthy young, thus passing on her genes.

We do not see these power-oriented sexual activities in non-mammals: in birds and reptiles, although the mating rituals can be extraordinarily complex, the action of mating itself is quite straight-forward.  In most fish, no real sexual interaction takes place at all; only in cephalopods do we see similar interactions to our rodent cousins, and in none do we see the symbolic gestures displayed by larger mammals.

It is from rodents that most other mammals have evolved from.  Is it possible, then, that this fixation on dominance in sex that manifests in such interests as vorephilia, sexual sadism and sexual masochism, and practices like bondage and necking, still remain in our genes from millions of years ago when we were merely rodents?  Were these paraphilias, which we now sometimes consider to be maladaptive and perverse, once part of an instinct necessary to pass on one’s genetic material?  This gives us an interesting perspective on these enigmatic paraphilias, which are sometimes, in the case of ones like vorephilia, to the point of being sheer fantasy.  Although this explanation obviously does not cover every paraphilia, if we consider how such interests and activities would have affected our non-human ancestors, we can get a better idea of precisely why they exist in the first place – and, in this, derive a greater tolerance for the associated individuals.