"I have no doubt that the First Congress of Caudate Amphibians represents a remarkable scientific success; but when I get a day off I'll go to the Jardin des Plantes and straight to Andrias Scheuchzer's tank, in order to say to him softly: 'You, Newt, when your day comes... heaven forbid you should take it into your head to investigate scientifically the psychological life of homo sapiens!'"
I once heard a pundit describe homophobia as "a man's fear that other men will treat him in the manner that he treats women," which is to say, often, "badly." What, then, would we call the fear of animals treating us in the manner that we treat other animals? In 1936, Czech author Karel Capek posed that question. The answer was born in his book, War with the Newts, perhaps one of the most telling fictional books ever written about mankind's treatment of animals, and each other.
In Capek's story, a sea captain in the East Indies comes across a remote island that is home to a colony of almost human-sized newts, a sort of seafaring version of the Japanese giant salamander, though more human-like in appearance and abilities. (It's worth noting that this story was written less than 30 years after the discovery of the Komodo dragon, also on a remote island in the East Indies). Within years of the discovery, the newts have gone from being a mere rumor to a scientific curiosity displayed in zoological parks to - following the discovery of their ability to perform marvels of undersea engineering, such as building dams and dredging harbors, to a cornerstone of the global economy. Freed from their natural predators and given free-rein to colonize the oceans and coastlines of the world, the salamanders begin to remake the world in their image.
For most of the book, humans cheerfully cling to the illusion that they are still in control.
Most of the book, told in the form of newspaper clippings, interviews, and other sources Capek creates, tell the story of man's relationship with the newts. It's a dark symbiosis. On one hand, the newts go from being a very localized endangered species, unable to venture from a single lagoon due to the presence of sharks, to the world's most invasive species, their numbers soaring into the millions. On the other, their exploitation is pretty brutal. They are relentlessly poached from the wild, dying in droves, to satisfy market demands. They are put to every use imaginable, from racing pet to food stuff. The quote at the top of this page comes at the conclusion of a symposium of their physiology, where scientists from across the globe met to discuss how newts coped with the loss of eyes or limbs or intestines, or at what temperature or salinity they died the quickest. Their services are demanded constantly, yet they themselves are barely tolerated by humans - even when newts save the passengers of a sinking ferry, in a manner which dolphins are reported to do occasionally, the survivors are only disgusted that newts were allowed to touch them.
Which, spoiler alert (though not really... I mean, it's in the title...) makes it all the more satisfying, in a grim sort of way, when the newts begin to take their revenge.
I'd like to point out that there are only two human characters in the book who really seem to show any honest affection for the newts or interest in their well-being. One is the sea captain who initially discovers the newts and becomes their devoted champion. The second is a zookeeper at the London Zoo, who befriends one in his care, even teaching it to talk and read (yes, this is science fiction after all).
Perhaps if any of the species that we share the earth with today decide to stage a coup and take over the world, some specimens will remember the kindnesses showed to them by zookeepers and show some mercy.
It would be a nice thought, anyway.
War With the Newts at Amazon.com
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