Primate Observation

In the sixth grade, I took a test to see if I was left- or right-brained. To my elementary eyes, the result of that quiz would be the truth from on high—a resolute word that would define the man to come as either analytic or artistic. Unfortunately, the oracle I sought gave me a perplexing answer. Much to my disbelief, my tallied score yielded a perfect split down the middle. Was I mentally ambidextrous or mentally challenged? I preferred to think the former; either way, I have never felt at home thinking in just one hemisphere.
When I tell people that I study biological anthropology and philosophy, they often curiously raise an eyebrow. “What an odd combination,” they remark. Even though I have come to expect this, I understand their bewilderment.

Agility is a rather nebulous concept. It is my hope that this comparative examination will yield an effective means of quantifying relative levels of agility among primates.
Understanding how primates move requires a functional understanding of mammalian anatomy—a passion of mine for the past three years. The opportunity to assistant-teach three undergraduate anatomy courses has been among the most fulfilling parts of my education. When I taught gross anatomy I had the opportunity to work with two cadavers.

A person can learn a great deal about human anatomy from texts, but there is an eyeopening degree of realism that sinks in during cadaver study. Furthering my own knowledge of anatomy would be reward enough for teaching these classes. What really propels me to teach, though, is the possibility of helping my students germinate a genuine curiosity in a subject that I love.

Philosopher by night. While fascinated by my anthropological pursuits, I take tremendous pleasure from reading philosophy into the early morning hours, sitting in the back of the dimly lit Mythic University Diner, famously open 24 hours a

My experiences have led me to form a biweekly study group where undergraduate philosophy majors can interact and discuss their readings with the graduate students.
I became particularly interested in the interaction of philosophy and biology when I read
Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals for the first time. Seeing a unity of ideas between some of what Nietzsche wrote in Genealogy and aspects of contemporary evolutionary biology made me realize that a more fruitful exchange of ideas between biologists and philosophers could precipitate advances in both fields. When I read
Genealogy again last year in my ethics seminar, I wrote a paper about a consilience between Nietzsche and the theoretical work of Amotz Zahavi—the ornithologist and author of The Handicap Principle—which I will submit for publication this fall.

This idea came as an epiphany—one shining moment of clarity that allowed me to unite seemingly disparate fields of knowledge for the first time. As I continue to investigate the relationship between philosophy and biology, I sense that more epiphanies are on