Speak!

I woke to frantic pawing at my bedside. My corgi, Jada, was desperately trying to tell me something. Thinking perhaps she needed to go outside, I sprang out of bed. Jada rushed ahead of me down the stairs, but rather than turning toward the door, she turned toward the kitchen.

As I stumbled in, she looked up at me intently. My sleepy eyes took in the scene. Garbage was strewn everywhere. I wondered, Why in the world would Jada tell me that she had been so naughty?

Just then, a shadowy figure skulked past in my peripheral vision. Our lab, Toby, was doing his best to leave the scene of the crime without being noticed. And then I realized—Jada had come to tell on Toby. She had no words, yet it couldn’t have been clearer. She had pawed at my bedside to say, “Come quick, you’ve got to see this!”

I still don’t know her motive for tattling on Toby. But whether it was getting him in trouble or making sure she didn’t get the blame, Jada wanted to deliver the news herself.

While animals may not speak our language, they most surely communicate with us when we watch their cues. But for some people, simply picking up on cues is not enough.

Though the concept is far from new, researchers and pet owners display a growing fascination with the ability to communicate with our furry friends and other creatures in the animal kingdom.

Advances in technology allow us to attach small microphones on creatures such as penguins and chipmunks to record their chatter. Ever-advancing AI programs then use that recorded data to map and attempt to translate animal languages.

But you don’t need tiny microphones or AI programs to talk with Fluffy. In a growing trend, owners are training their dogs to communicate using button boards. Perhaps best known is Stella, a blue heeler/Catahoula mix, touted as the world’s first talking dog.

In the book How Stella Learned to Talk, Stella’s speech-language pathologist owner, Christina Hunger, shares the journey of how she taught Stella to use an augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) device, similar to those used by humans with speech disorders. Beyond asking to eat or play, Stella has learned to convey around 50 words and phrases, including more complex concepts like preferences or emotions. She can choose a button indicating whether she would prefer the beach or the park—and she can press “mad” when she doesn’t get to go.

In some ways, the idea of talking animals seems to defy foundational biblical principles. Humans are God’s special creation: we were created in his image (Genesis 1:26), and we were given the gift of language and communication. To suggest that animals can talk to each other, let alone to us, may seem blasphemous. However, would God’s gift of speech to Adam necessarily preclude him from gracing other creatures with the ability to communicate, each in its own way?

As we more earnestly explore the ways that animals communicate with each other and how we might communicate with them, it becomes difficult to remain steadfast in the position that we are God’s only creations capable of communication and language. If this is true, what are we to do with this unfolding knowledge? How does it affect our responsibilities to and our relationships with our coinhabitants of God’s earth?

Definitions, Please

First, let’s define what we mean by communication and language. Very simply, communication is the ability to convey a given message, with language being a more formalized system used to do so. For example, I could convey that I am tired to a foreigner who doesn’t speak English by drooping my eyes, dropping my shoulders, and sighing deeply, or tipping my head and resting it on my hands. We could communicate even though we don’t speak the same language. Similarly, I could convey to my dog that I am angry with her just by my facial expressions and body language—and trust me, she understands.

Languages, however, are the formalized systems that develop within communities to convey those messages more effectively and consistently—and with much greater specificity and detail. While communication may happen between various people groups and even between different species, language works to the benefit of a particular group or species, helping them survive in their environment and thrive within their individual communities.

A bottlenose dolphin executes a trick for her trainer on the Marine Corps Base Kaneohe Bay in Hawaii, as part of the Marine Mammal Research Program and the University of Hawaii.

Definitive Proof or Hopeful Interpretation?

So is there sufficient evidence to demonstrate that animals can communicate with language? Stella may be touted as the first talking dog, but “button dogs” are not our first foray into talking to animals. The 1960s saw our first concerted effort to communicate with dolphins. Then in the 1970s, Koko the gorilla learned to use sign language. In the 1990s, Kanzi the bonobo was trained to use symbols, or lexigrams, to communicate with humans. These are some of the most memorable examples of pursuing communication and language with other species, each featuring a very dedicated primary caregiver who helped to train and to interpret the animals’ various attempts to talk to humans.

While many of their results seem quite impressive, the validity of these language experiments is inconclusive. Some people would say they prove animals’ ability to talk to us; others would say they are the hopeful interpretations of overzealous handlers. Perhaps it is a little of both.

These various experiments reveal that animals can learn to vocalize or make a gesture or select a button to draw a response from humans. When Stella pressed the button for “eat,” she assumed her position by her food bowl. When she pressed the button for “outside,” she waited by the door. She had made the connection between the button and the response.

Indeed, this is the foundation of learning a new language. When a baby says “ba” and points to the fridge, she is rewarded by mom or dad getting her a bottle of milk. With some encouragement from her parents, she has learned to associate that sound and gesture with getting what she wants. This will motivate her to continue using these strange sounds that are coming from the people around her and are now beginning to emanate from her—with great results! The big people seem quite pleased with her efforts, and she is finding a way to tell them what she wants.

This is precisely what was happening with Stella, Koko, and Kanzi. So if we acknowledge the child’s effort as a means of establishing communication and learning language, it would seem clear that animals are capable of this too. A distinction, however, is that eventually the child will graduate from “ba” to “Mom, would you get me a glass of milk, please?”

Both the baby and the dog effectively get the desired response, but the child is well on her way to communicating with sophisticated language that can be restructured in many ways to discuss complex issues and abstract ideas. In the case of the animals, the lack of more sophisticated language requires a greater degree of interpretation. Great gaps between their word choices must be filled in by the handler, likely with varying degrees of accuracy.

Stella’s owner is optimistic that, with concerted effort and enough time, she may be able to explore more deeply the thoughts and desires of her beloved companion. However, Koko’s handler was just as optimistic, as was Kanzi’s. Yet, despite concerted efforts working with primates over the course of decades, the progression of communication has not extended far beyond the conveyance of the animal’s most basic needs and desires. This is an important distinction.

Kanzi the bonobo was taught to communicate using symbols. Using a keyboard of symbols associated with words, he “converses” with a researcher.

Let’s Talk Language

Animals appear to be equipped with communication skills that make them capable of finding suitable shelter and food, selecting mates, and bearing and rearing offspring. In fact, some of this communication is quite impressive. Orcas and wolf packs discuss hunting strategies—identifying prey, assigning roles, choreographing the approach, and timing the attack. In the bird world, elaborate calls and courtship rituals play a role in selecting a suitable mate. Even honeybees use elaborate communication in the form of a waggle dance to tell members of the colony the direction and distance to a newly discovered flower patch.

Various populations of the same species found in different locations have developed unique, regional accents. And, like humans, some animal mothers, including bats, seem to use baby talk to help their young learn their specific language.

Animals are clearly able to convey messages and have unique, formalized systems that allow them to communicate among themselves so that they might flourish.

Created Differences

It seems that both communication and language have been given to many other living organisms, but it also remains clear that the scope and grasp of human language is beyond compare. Created in the image of God, we have been given minds that can grasp greater concepts and ponder the abstract to a deeper degree than any other creature. Perhaps it is not language that makes us special but rather the unique intelligence and creativity woven within us. Sophisticated language may simply be the outlet for the imago dei within us. While animals can be smart and creative, their capacity for communication doesn’t come close to that of humans.

For example, as a physiologist, I marvel at what we have figured out about the inner workings of the human body. As I think about how we have teased apart the genetic code and broken-down cellular signal transduction pathways to the last phosphorylated molecule and ion-specific channel, I realize that, no matter how many buttons we give them, dogs will never comprehend those kinds of concepts. If they could, they would be accomplishing tremendous feats, such as curing cancer or sending Stella to the moon.

I don’t know if we will ever figure out what coyotes are saying as they howl in the night. But I just don’t believe they are discussing the phase of the moon or the grandeur of the northern lights. God has given each kind the ability to communicate effectively with each other and with the populations they interact with to be successful in the environment they inhabit. Each kind fills unique niches and roles in the world, evidenced most significantly when the animals spread out in different areas after the global flood.

The fact that humans have thrived across so many different and varied ecosystems throughout the world attests to our distinction in God’s creation. And language likely played a role in our ubiquity. The ability to conceive and then effectively communicate ideas—subsequently passing them on and building upon previous generations’ technological developments—has allowed us to surpass the accomplishments of any other created kind. For example, while members of the crow family have demonstrated some very impressive communication skills, they continue to build nests, while mankind has moved from grass huts to skyscrapers with HVAC systems. But that’s what we were created to do—have dominion over creation and fill the earth.

A Delicate Balance

As with so many things, a tenuous balance exists between truth and dangerous distortions of that truth. While we are special creations, made in the image of God, that in no way entitles us to the maltreatment or abuse of God’s critters. The dominion mandate requires us to be good stewards of creation. We rank higher in the created order, but with that position comes great responsibility. We must take care not to use animals as tools without respecting their value as living things that were also created by God.

On the other hand, we must be careful that we don’t elevate animals beyond their place in the created order, making animals equal to or even surpassing human value. Culture today tends to pour out love and attention on the critters in our lives—often to the neglect of the humans placed in our sphere of influence. Even as #dogbuttons surpasses 100 million views on TikTok, our culture is suffering from an epidemic of social isolation—leaving more than 100 million people reporting feelings of loneliness, anxiety, and depression. We grieve puppy mills and orcas in aquariums while turning a blind eye to image bearers as they struggle in poverty or are sold into slavery for labor or sex trafficking. We must not forget our role in the kingdom and God’s expectations of us. After all, God’s command was not to speak fluent dolphinese but rather to love our neighbor.

The truth lies somewhere in the middle. Dominion must not devolve to abuse, while respect should not rise to reverence. As the pinnacle of God’s creation, we should be good stewards, respecting animals, caring for them, and engaging in relationships that can maximize benefit and minimize harm. Understanding how they communicate can help us discover how to get the best results from our collaboration.

Horses serve as a good example. Since we’ve been given dominion over horses, we can rely on them for work and pleasure. However, not so long ago we “broke” horses, forcefully imposing our will with little regard to them as living beings. By observing how horses communicate with each other in herds, we have learned how to effectively solicit submission without force. This has allowed us to make great strides in working with horses in a way that benefits both the horse and the human.

Don’t Miss the Conversation

Even without a button board, I’m pretty sure I read my corgi right most of the time. She doesn’t speak English, and I know very little corgi, but we still seem to understand each other well. Maybe it’s like getting a new Spanish-speaking friend. If I understand a little Spanish, and they understand a little English, we can communicate and perhaps accomplish the basic functions, like indicating when we are hungry or need to use the bathroom. But if we never do the hard work of really learning the other language, we will never make those next steps in communication. What kind of food do they want? Should we pull over now or can they make it to the next rest area? And of course, we could never discuss the meaning of life, or how we feel when we gaze at the stars, or how we can have a relationship with Christ.

If we took the time to learn the language of animals, would they even be capable of having that kind of conversation? As I watch my corgi, somehow, I never get the feeling that she is desperately trying to tell me that she is scared of what happens after she dies. She seems to want to eat and play and snuggle and leave the existential and spiritual questions to me.

Some people may feel threatened by the idea that animals can effectively communicate with their own language. But I believe this concept brings even greater glory to the Creator. To think that God created each kind with unique languages to ensure the success of his entire creation brings me to a new level of awe.

It seems undeniable that animals do have language and can communicate in ways that we can detect if we are attuned to them.

It seems undeniable that animals do have language and can communicate in ways that we can detect if we are attuned to them. Advancing that understanding by using new technologies may allow us to live out the dominion mandate and serve our role as stewards of creation with even greater excellence.

However, I sure hope a fascination with learning to talk to animals doesn’t keep us from having conversations with people—image bearers who can hold deep, meaningful conversations. We don’t want to miss out on those conversations about the meaning of life or how we feel when we gaze at the stars at night. Most importantly, we don’t want to miss out on sharing the love and the hope of Christ with our fellow man simply because we were too busy trying to figure out if Fluffy wants kibbles or bits.