Archive for the ‘pregnancy’ Category
childbirth, population, bonobos
A BBC pic from June 2021. This woman supposedly gave birth to ten, five by caesarian section, a new world record apparently. But it was all faked, it seems.
Given the craziness of that outlier nation of the WEIRD world, the USA, with its religious anti-intellectualism (in some states) and those states’ consequent ‘every sperm is sacred’ approach to abortion, I’m taken back to my childhood reading of the Guiness Book of Records, an extremely popular work published annually from 1955. My edition would’ve been from the 70s, but today’s internet may have rendered the collection virtually obsolete, methinks. Anyway, I recall being fascinated by the most grotesque facts, including – of course – the woman who gave birth to the most children. I don’t recall the number in my edition, but presumably this was the woman, and the number:
The greatest officially recorded number of children born to one mother is 69, to the wife of Feodor Vassilyev (b. 1707–c.1782), a peasant from Shuya, Russia. In 27 confinements she gave birth to 16 pairs of twins, seven sets of triplets and four sets of quadruplets. Although this seems to be a statistically unlikely story, numerous contemporaneous sources exist which suggest that it is true. The case was reported to Moscow by the Monastery of Nikolsk on 27 February 1782, which had recorded every birth.
My heart goes out to this woman, especially considering that, after all this enormous suffering, she isn’t even given her own name. Perhaps they didn’t bother giving names to women in Russia in them days – though to be fair, Catherine II, aka the Great, was Empress at the time.
Anyway, I remain extremely skeptical that any woman (okay, her name was Valentina), never mind her children, would survive such trauma (are the dates given above those of Feodor or his victim? – it’s unclear), and as for the husband, who went on to have a second wife (at the same time??!!) who gave birth to 18 kids via 8 confinements, what can be said…?
Happy to be a skeptic. Anyway, such records, fact or fiction, are unlikely to be repeated, partly because no woman, even in the most ultra-patriarchal remnants of the world, would put up with being so put-upon. As for kids these days, we’re learning to put quality before quantity methinks. Remember The population bomb? Apparently, this and other doomsday tracts of the late 60s and early 70s led to significant pressure for men and women to be sterilised in India in the following decade or so, as well as China’s One Child policy. But Ehrlich’s doomsday scenario, which he later described as a warning rather than a prediction, never eventuated, though it may have had some small influence on humanity’s slowing growth rate. My own view, when I consider the negative population growth of South Korea and Japan, and Australia’s fairly stable population in recent times, is that this is hardly a bad thing. If countries want to boost their populations, there’s always immigration, which, IMHO, has been a massive boon here in Oz. If nations prefer to be insular, along with negative growth, that’s surely their problem. I’m sure they’ll manage.
In any case, in the WEIRD world, especially among the relatively well-off, we’re having fewer children. Contraception and other resources are helping us to plan our families, if we’re making them.
Anyway, let’s forget about humans for a mo, and focus on a much more interesting species – bonobos:
Females bear one infant every five years or so with a gestation period of around eight months. One fascinating and unique behaviour recorded in bonobos happens during birth: other females have been known to gather around the pregnant bonobo and assist in the birth, similar to human midwives.
Bonobos’ low birth-rate is one reason they’re struggling as a species, so breeding in captivity, or in enclosed spaces within their own native regions, has become important. Another reason they’re struggling, though, is the same reason their non-human primate relatives are struggling. The behaviour of humans. Bonobo numbers are very hard to calculate, but here’s how Wikipedia puts it:
Conservation status. The IUCN (International Union for Conservation of Nature) Red List classifies bonobos as an endangered species, with conservative population estimates ranging from 29,500 to 50,000 individuals.
Let’s say 40,000 bonobos. The World Population Clock currently puts the human population at just under 8.2 billion. That means we outnumber bonobos by about 205,000 to one. We’re crowding out so many other primates, not to mention wild mammals in general, and even insects. But considering how excellent an example bonobos set, not only at childbirth, but during child-rearing, feeding time, the whole shebang of collective behaviour, all ultimately resulting from females taking power, we should be doing more than just safeguarding them, we should be taking note of this bonobo sisterhood at a time of unprecedented, and largely man-made, global crisis.
References
Paul Ehrlich, The Population Bomb, 1968
https://www.smithsonianmag.com/innovation/book-incited-worldwide-fear-overpopulation-180967499/
22 – sex, reproduction, science, bonobos
the act, depicted by Leonardo, along with his intriguing mirror writing
Thinking on dolphins again, I remember reading claims about sophisticated dolphin language, at a vocal range beyond human hearing, and I’ve also read scientific dismissals of such claims. I’m thinking again about these questions (the communications of some birds also comes to mind) because the communicative complexity of language would have enabled human apes to, among other things, be species-aware of the connection between sex and reproduction – though unfortunately failures in that communication still result in unwanted teenage pregnancies.
But I don’t seriously imagine that any other species – on this planet at least – knows that the joys of rump-pumpy lead to the much-later popping out of wee human replicants. For one thing, Matthew Cobb’s book The egg & sperm race provides an account of how confused we humans were, even at the time of Leonardo, about ‘the exact relationship between male, female and offspring’. They were particularly confused with regard to non-human generation. Ideas about barnacle geese being hatched from barnacles, mice being generated from wheat and vipers from dust were entertained at the highest level, even at the Royal Society in the 17th century. The spontaneous generation of the tiniest creatures was essentially a given for millennia. But human generation was also much of a mystery until relatively recently. Here’s a little summary from Cobb:
Although the real situation now appears obvious, discovering exactly what goes on was a long, complicated process. Even what might seem to be the most obvious step in generation – the link between sexual intercourse and pregnancy in humans – is really quite difficult to demonstrate. Part of the problem is that the clear signs of pregnancy do not immediately follow the sexual act. Even menstruation does not necessarily appear to be directly linked to pregnancy: although women stop menstruating when they are pregnant, some women always have irregular periods, while teenage girls can get pregnant without ever having menstruated. The link between sex and generation is so unobvious that in the 20th-century the Trobriand Islanders in the Pacific Ocean were said to be very surprised to learn that there is a connection between the two. All around the world, folktales of conception taking place in the most astonishing ways, such as by eating fruit (mango, lemon, apple, orange, peach ..), accidentally swallowing crane dung, or, more politically, being touched by the rays of a dragon.
The late 17th century, however, was the period in Europe when most of this confusion was cleared up, at least in the so-called developed world, thanks mainly to the work of four gifteded individuals, Francesco Redi (1626-97), Jan Swammerdam (1637-80), Nicolas Steno (1638-86) and Reinier de Graaf (1641-1673). Much of this work took place in the Netherlands, a major progressive and scientific nation in this period, backed by massive profits from the spice and slave trades. Of course another power of the period was England, and one of the most important figures in researching ‘generation’, as the problem of sorting out the reproductive process was then called, was William Harvey, famous mostly for working out the role of the heart in circulating the blood. Harvey was a pioneering experimentalist, and his approach to the issues was essentially correct, and quite revolutionary, but he lacked the necessary to work out the detail of generation. In particular, he lacked a microscope. His late work, de generatione animalium (1651), though mostly a restatement of Aristotelian doctrine, was inspirational in that he emphasised, through experiment, the importance of the egg in generation, regardless of species. Without a microscope, however, this claim couldn’t be fully verified. Microscopes, or magnifiers of various kinds, had been used since antiquity, but their full development came only after the invention of the telescope. Galileo built his own compound microscope in the 1620s but they remained largely a novelty until later in the 17th century, with the founding of scientific societies and academies, and the sharing of scientific experiments and tools.
The four above-mentioned intellectuals (the word scientist didn’t gain currency until the nineteenth century) – one Italian and three Dutch – were friends, colleagues, and sometimes frenemies at a time when being first with scientific breakthroughs was even more important than during the covid19 era. There were no professional researchers of course, so you had to publish to get recognition and encourage patronage (and you often needed patronage to get published).
Francesco Redi, who combined a more rigorous experimentalism than was common at the time with the wit and urbanity that made him a mainstay at the court of Grand Duke Ferdinando II of Tuscany, to whom he acted as physician among other things, carried out careful research on insects which proved that they weren’t generated spontaneously in rotting foodstuff or anything else. His interest in the subject was inspired by Steno who had come to Tuscany from his studies in Leiden, via Paris, with a reputation as an expert in dissection and cutting-edge experimentation. Steno was in turn influenced by the greater mathematical rigour of the intellectuals at Ferdinando’s court. The two worked together on fossils and geology as well as animal anatomy. Steno was interested in the difference between viviparous and oviparous reproduction – that’s to say, between creatures who produce live young and those who lay eggs – and stumbled on a new, decisive insight, that female ‘testicles’, at the time believed to be internalised versions of male testicles, were in fact ovaries, a housing for the female’s eggs. This was an insight from observation, rather than experiment, but it was of course correct, and revolutionary.
Steno, Swammerdam and de Graaf had all met in Leiden where they engaged in their first adult studies (Leiden University in the mid 17th century had more student enrolments than Cambridge and was one of the most progressive learning institutes in Europe), and Steno and Swammerdam, being in the same year, became firm friends and collaborators there. After their Leiden studies, all three went to to France, a common destination for young Dutch intellectuals. Swammerdam and Steno were attracted there by an extraordinary French polymath, Melchisédech Thévenot, who had visited Leiden during their studies there, and who was head of a private academy in Paris, which eventually morphed into the Académie Royale des Sciences.
But I’m getting bogged down in fascinating detail. Read Cobb’s The egg & sperm race for the story of how these individuals, and others, sorted out the story of ovaries, testes, semen and the equal contribution of males and females to offspring production. It’s a story of collaboration, rivalry and the struggle for both knowledge and recognition that captures much of scientific activity, then and now.
The point of all this is to recognise how difficult it was for even the most complex species on the planet to work out the relationship between the pleasures of sex and the rather more mixed experience of childbirth – deadly for many, including my own grandmother.
And yet, bonobos do it for pleasure and relief, openly, and manage to avoid having endless pregnancies, unlike Anne Stuart, queen of Great Britain (18 pregnancies, none surviving to adulthood) and Maria Theresia, empress of Austria, and many other regions (16 pregnancies, only 3 of whom died in infancy), not to mention a horde of less ’eminent’ catholic martyrs to the world’s peopling. Bonobos have between five and seven infants, on average, in a lifetime, which is certainly more than enough. I’m not sure of the survival rate of offspring, but it would probably be higher if not for human depradations.
References
Matthew Cobb, The egg & sperm race