Panda Inconsolable

Today I read a headline that said "Panda Inconsolable After Crushing Newborn" on my AOL news ticker.

So struck by the incongruity between the words "Panda" and "Inconsolable" was I, that a skein of questions flew through my mind. I found myself so preoccupied by the rapid series of queries that, for several minutes, I forgot all about the hyperlink and the informative article to which it led, the article that I later found rather inadaquate to satisfy my thirst for knowledge.

My first string of questions began "how would one console a panda? Aren't all pandas inconsolable by nature, since people lack the means to comfort them? Moreover, how does one determine if a panda needs consulation at all? How does one determine if a panda is in a good mood or a bad one?"

This line of thinking logically led to another chain: ""how can one tell if the panda has slipped out of its good mood? How does one know it's not merely a chronically sad panda? An emo panda? Maybe this was a manically depressed panda whose depression just happens to coincide with its infanticide. Is the panda just putting on a show of grief, because it knows the zoo keepers expect it to be sad, and it doesn't want to appear a bad mother or an unfeeling psychopath?"

And finally I arrived at my most epistemological speculations regarding pandas: "what constitutes 'sad' in pandas, and how can we gauge it? How do we know whether we have actually 'consoled' a panda, or if its mood lightened naturally over the course of time?" I think many of my questions hinge on the couching of the headline in terms usually reserved for humans.

The headline's anthropomorphic treatment of the panda reminded me of Ellen Ullman's "Dining with Robots," in Best American Essays of 2005. In it, Ullman recounts a metaphor used in her first programming class; her instructor informed the students that programming is like a recipe: give the computer the right instructions in the right order, and it will produce the desired product. As the essay unfolds, Ullman dissects the metaphor, ultimately concluding that computers are nowhere near sophisticated enough to grapple with the nuances in Juliet Child's preface to her recipe for Sauté de Boeuf à la Parisienne:

“This sauté of beef is good to know about if you have to entertain important guests in a hurry. It consists of small pieces of filet sautéed quickly to a nice brown outside and a rosy center, and served in a sauce. The following recipe can easily be prepared in 30 minutes, or in less than half the time if the meat has been sliced and the mushrooms sautéed ahead. In the variations at the end of the recipe, all the sauce ingredients may be prepared in advance. If the whole dish is cooked ahead of time, be very careful indeed in its reheating that the beef does not overcook. The cream and mushroom sauce here is a French version of beef Stroganoff, but less tricky as it uses fresh rather than sour cream, so you will not run into the problem of curdled sauce. Serve the beef in a casserole, or on a platter surrounded with steamed rice, risotto, or potato balls sautéed in butter. Buttered green peas or beans could accompany it, and a good bordeaux.” For 6 people.

Ullman notes, for example, that computers would require eyes to identify a "nice brown outside" or a "rosy center" in the beef; they lack taste buds to discern "a good bordeaux" from any other wine. Moreover, a computer would have a devil of a time making sense of the phrase "important guests." Throughout the essay, Ullman identifies ways that computers simply are not people, and lack basic traits of humanity that we take for granted, making computers' cooking from recipes virtually impossible—at least with a savory, satisfactory result. In the end, she concludes that even with advances in artificial intelligence, there are intrinsically human characteristics with which non-human machines cannot be endowed. The danger, rather, is that in an increasingly automated, globalized world that serves to minimize individuality, taste and sensibility are being sacrificed in favor of efficiency and standardization. The danger, Ullman notes, is that people are becoming more like the machines they designed to serve them.

If you're interested in the panda story, the link is here. Or, you can read it below:

BEIJING (Sept. 8) -Staff at a zoo in southwest China are in mourning after a sleep-deprived panda dropped her two-day-old baby and crushed it to death, local media reported on Friday.

"It was very sudden, but also unavoidable," Guo Wei, panda department chief at Chongqing city zoo in the southwestern region of Chongqing, told the Chongqing Business News daily.

Ya Ya, a seven-year-old panda and new mother of twins, "appeared tired" when nursing the younger cub in a patch of grass, the paper said.

Her head sagged, her paws separated and her baby fell to the ground next to her. The panda then rolled on to her side and crushed her baby beneath her.

The tragedy occurred because she hadn't slept or eaten properly since giving birth, Guo said, adding that Ya Ya lacked motherhood experience.

According to Guo, the zoo had tried on several occasions to separate the cub from its mother for their safety, but Ya Ya "was very cautious" and would "roar and bare her teeth" at zoo-keepers.

The elder of the twins was in good health and being cared for, zoo officials said.

But Ya Ya had proved inconsolable, wailing and looking for her baby after its body was taken away from her.

"Pandas who lose their young tend to be depressed for a month or so," Guo said, adding that the zoo would assign people to care for her and provide special food to improve her mood.

Copyright 2006 Reuters Limited. All rights reserved. 09/08/06 01:47 ET