Nim Chimpsky: Chimpanzee Who Was Supposed to Speak
In the 1970s, Herbert S. Terrace of Columbia University created “Project Nim,” aimed at assessing a chimpanzee’s ability to learn American Sign Language (ASL). The subject of the research was the chimpanzee Nim Chimpsky. In 1979, Terrace published the results of his experiment, and his conclusions were surprising…
Imagine a child in a diaper, drinking milk from a bottle, wearing a flannel shirt, and being taught sign language by caring guardians. Now, imagine that this child has fur and the agile paws of a chimpanzee. This is not fiction – it is the story of Nim Chimpsky, a chimpanzee who, in the 1970s, became the protagonist of one of the most controversial experiments in the history of science. Project Nim was intended to answer the question: can a human teach an animal to speak? The answer turned out to be more complicated, and Nim’s fate – more tragic, than could have been foreseen.
A Chimpanzee Raised Like a Child in a Home
On November 19, 1973, at a research center in Oklahoma, a chimpanzee was born and named Nim Chimpsky – a playful nod to Noam Chomsky, the linguist who insisted that language is an exclusively human domain.
A few days after his birth, Nim was taken from his mother and given to Stephanie LaFarge, a New York mother and former psychology student. In her home on the Upper West Side, Nim was treated like a family member: he ate at the table, slept in a bed, played with the children, and… sometimes sipped beer. Dressed in a flannel shirt, he was taught American Sign Language (ASL), and researchers hoped he would master more than just instinctive grunts.
Herbert S. Terrace, a psychologist from Columbia University and the principal architect of the experiment, believed that Nim could disprove Chomsky’s theories. The initial results were promising: at the age of two, Nim knew over 120 signs. He signed “eat,” “drink,” “play,” and even created simple sequences like “give me apple.” Caregivers were thrilled – it seemed that the boundary between human and animal might be more fluid than previously thought. But did Nim really “speak”? Did he understand his gestures, or was he merely repeating movements like a trained monkey?
Wildness at Heart – “Beast” in a Flannel Shirt
With each passing year, the experiment became more difficult. Nim was growing up, and with him, his strength and wildness increased. Despite his human upbringing, he could not suppress his instincts: he bit caregivers, demolished rooms, and once seriously injured one of the teachers, cutting her cheek. “It was like living with a rebellious teenager, but one armed with fangs and superhuman strength,” recalled Joyce Butler, one of Nim’s caregivers. In 1977, after five years, Terrace decided to end the experiment.
The analysis of recordings from sessions with Nim brought a surprising twist. Terrace concluded that the chimpanzee was not creating language – his gestures were mainly echoes of the teachers’ movements, a learned reaction to rewards, not conscious communication. They lacked grammar, spontaneity, abstraction – what makes human language. “Nim didn’t speak. He asked,” Terrace summarized in his 1979 book Nim. His conclusions disappointed many who saw in the chimpanzee something more: a spark of a mind wanting to express itself. Critics accused Terrace of drawing hasty conclusions – perhaps Nim needed more time, a better method, a different approach?
Abandoned Protagonist
For Nim, the end of the experiment marked the beginning of a nightmare. From a luxurious home in New York, he ended up in a cramped cage in a research center. Later, he was sold to the LEMSIP (Laboratory for Experimental Medicine and Surgery in Primates) laboratory, where drugs were tested on him – a fate that shocked his former caregivers. “We felt like we had betrayed our own child,” said Laura-Ann Petitto, one of Nim’s teachers.
Only after a wave of protests and intervention by animal welfare foundations did Nim find refuge at Black Beauty Ranch in Texas. There, in the company of other chimpanzees, he spent the rest of his life – but it was not a happy ending. Aggressive, maladjusted to life among humans or among his fellow chimpanzees, Nim destroyed everything he could get his hands on, from toys to televisions. He died in 2000 of a heart attack, at only 26 years old – halfway to the natural lifespan of a chimpanzee in captivity.
Koko: Gorilla Who Challenged Doubts
Nim’s story is not unique. In 1971, another sign language experiment began, this time with a gorilla named Koko. Under the guidance of Francine “Penny” Patterson from Stanford University, Koko learned over 1,000 ASL signs and, according to Patterson, could express not only needs but also emotions – for example, sadness after the loss of her kitten All Ball, whom she treated like her own child. Unlike Nim, Koko seemed to exhibit greater creativity: she created new expressions like “finger bracelet” and “sad face,” suggesting a deeper understanding of language.
Skeptics, including Terrace, questioned these achievements, pointing to the lack of rigorous testing and the possibility of unconscious influence from caregivers on the interpretation of Koko’s gestures. However, for many, her story was proof that great apes can approach human communication if given proper care and time. Koko died in 2018, leaving behind a legacy full of hope and questions: did she really “speak,” or did she only reflect our desire to hear her voice?
Moral Dilemmas
The story of Nim Chimpsky – and to a lesser extent, Koko – is not just a scientific experiment, but a parable about the limits of human ambition and the costs paid by others. The 2011 documentary Project Nim, directed by James Marsh, portrays this story in its full splendor: from the euphoria of the first successes to the bitterness of failure and moral dilemmas. Were Nim and Koko pioneers of communication, or puppets in the hands of scientists? Or perhaps their tragedy tells us more about ourselves – about how we try to bend nature to our expectations, without asking if we have the right to do so?
Nim never spoke as his caregivers wanted him to, and Koko left us with a mixture of admiration and doubt. But their lives – full of chaos, tenderness, and pain – became a cry that still echoes in the debate about what makes us human. Perhaps they didn’t fully learn language, but they taught us something else: that the boundary between human and animal is thinner than we would like to admit – and that crossing it comes at a price.
What do you think about experiments like Koko and Nim?
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