Even though the human eye works the same way for everyone, it is quite funny that we never seem to see the same thing (even when we are looking at it together). With that realization –and a small disclaimer that some of my ‘classifications’ here might not be entirely political – I begin this note.
During my one and a half years at IIT Madras, some thoughts and questions had kept popping up in my mind, which has inevitably motivated me to write this. Whenever I see posters or videos promoting our campus, the symbols that usually represent it are the spotted deer and the blackbuck. But when I actually came here, what I found most often were monkeys.
Lots and lots of monkeys.
Why is it that we love, like, admire, or romanticise some creatures, while we fear, hate, or find other ones annoying? Our attitudes towards the species around us are rarely neutral. They usually fall somewhere between affection, fear, irritation, hatred, or total indifference. From what I understand, this has a lot to do with our cultural influences, our past experiences, our social conditioning, and the psychological traits that have evolved within us.
In the specific context of life here in IIT Madras, this small reflection is an attempt to explore why monkeys so often end up being seen as nuisances while the spotted deer and the blackbuck become the proud icons of the campus.
Through a bit of light reading, I found answers to these questions. I realised something interesting: we humans seem to have a soft spot for animals that look or behave a bit like us. Especially those with faces that show emotions, or those that act in a social, almost human way. We tend to find them particularly appealing. This tendency, known as “biobehavioural similarity”, has actually been proven through experiments. Among these traits, the one that draws us in the most is what scientists call the baby-like features: big eyes, small round faces, soft fur (basically anything that reminds us of an infant). This effect, known as the “cute effect” or “baby schema”, makes us instinctively want to pet and protect such creatures when we see them.
Both children and adults are drawn to these kinds of animals. That is why so many people keep them as pets, and why there has been such a boom in mass media dedicated entirely to them. Maybe this is also why we go a bit crazy when we see cats: feeding them, petting them, taking photos, and posting them on our status or story. Their small size, gentle sounds, and friendly behaviour give us a sense of comfort and an urge to bond with them.
But we do not see all animals through the same warm, loving lens. When it comes to creatures that are unpredictable, uncontrollable, or those that intrude on our space, our feelings shift quickly to dislike or fear. This is true for the street dogs that bark and chase us, the crows that make noise and tear into garbage, and of course, the monkeys on our campus.
Let me be clear: this is not some sweeping generalisation or stereotyping. But when monkeys boldly snatch food from our hands, hostels, or dustbins, their intrusive behaviour naturally increases our fear and irritation. This, in turn, spreads a negative narrative about them among us. The problem might not be that these animals are truly dangerous, but rather that they cross what we consider our boundaries. Any creature that disrupts our daily rhythm, threatens our food, or behaves in ways that seem strange or too clever, we tend to paint them as villains.
I still remember my first day on campus –walking back to the hostel after the orientation program– when a senior warned me, “Careful, there are monkeys on the way.”
I am not against that warning at all. Honestly, that advice has proved incredibly useful throughout my time here. Even without holding food openly in my hands, I have had monkeys chase me. But such warnings and these small pieces of narrative, start creating biases in students right from their first day.
In all of this, beauty plays a major role. It is no secret that we tend to love and protect animals whose colours, symmetry, or patterns align with our aesthetic tastes. In his book The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex, Charles Darwin argues that the bright feathers of a peacock or the elegant antlers of a deer exist mainly to attract mates or compete with rivals. These displays of beauty in animals, meant for sexual selection, also appear beautiful to us humans. But that’s just a by-product of how our visual and cognitive systems evolved. Our own aesthetic sensitivity makes us fall for these features too.
In animal parks, for instance, the graceful walk of a deer or the colourful body of a peacock are often portrayed as symbols of nature’s beauty and serenity. Such animals are seen as part of the place’s heritage and as visual spectacles for visitors to admire.
It is no different on our campus. When we spot the spotted deer or blackbuck here, we look at them with curiosity and affection, snapping pictures as if they are celebrities. On our campus’s social media pages, their photos are shared with messages about protecting and respecting these beautiful creatures. But we do not extend that same admiration or attention to the ‘noisy animals that drag waste around and make a mess’.
Since this is a magazine from a Humanities and Social Sciences department, a small sociological reflection naturally fits here. Sociological theories tell us that our preferences do not just appear out of thin air. In his book Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste (1979), French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu argues that our tastes are shaped by our social distinctions. What we like and dislike is influenced by our class, education, and cultural participation. Society, in this way, assigns different levels of prestige to different species of animals. For instance, some animals are seen as symbols of purity, elegance, or good fortune, while others are treated as examples of nuisance or disorder. Our culture and institutions constantly reinforce these biases.
Even in conservation efforts, it is usually the large, photogenic, and charismatic animals or charismatic megafauna like tigers, pandas, deer, and elephants that attract funding and public support. Merely because of this “charisma bias,” the less appealing species often end up completely outside our purview.
The emotional connection between humans and animals also deserves a closer look. Our attachment to pets like dogs and cats is not just about their looks or cuteness. It is also about the emotional support they give us. People often keep pets for companionship and mental well-being. Many studies have reported that dogs and cats can reduce stress, ease loneliness, and even have therapeutic effects. Pet videos of dogs and cats have become wildly popular online and I’m a huge fan myself. I could watch those videos for hours without getting bored. But generally, we tend to have less attachment to animals that we do not assign such emotional or aesthetic value to.
When you put all of this together, it forms a kind of hierarchy, a ranking based on beauty, worth, and moral value. Some animals end up loved and protected, some are controlled, some completely ignored, and others outright hated. This classification of animals even shows up at the policy level. You can see it in how conservation funds are distributed or where feeding stations are set up.
In short, our relationship with animals is shaped not just by our sense of beauty, but by our psychology, culture, and social patterns. After saying all this, I must confess something: my favourite part of this campus is the deer, and when I leave, they will be the ones I miss the most. But I am also terribly afraid of monkeys (and I justify it by saying that since I am scared of humans, monkeys remind me too much of them – it’s only natural).
These are just my personal reflections. I want to emphasise that empathy and care should extend equally to all living beings, including humans, regardless of beauty or emotional connection (maybe a bit hypocritical of me to say so). I end this note by saying that this categorisation and aesthetic judgement apply not only to animals—iykyk.
Edited by Lakshmi Yazhini | Design by Alphin | Photos from Monkeys of IIT
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