Where All Mammals are Created Equal

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The backbones (a defining feature of mammals) of whales line the ceiling of the "Great Mammal Hall."

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The giraffe's neck towers over every mammal in the room.

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The Indian hedgehog is among the smallest mammals on display.

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Among the real skeletons on display is a human specimen.

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The front of the exhibit gives the illusion of countless mammals staring straight at the visitor.

Upon entering the “Great Mammal Hall” at the Harvard Museum of Natural History, one cannot help but look up. The skeletons of massive whales line the length of the ceiling, replete with protruding ribcages that create a tangle of bones in the air. On ground-level, the sight of animals of all kinds—of all sizes, embodying all amounts of hair, mouths flashing teeth of varying numbers—can be overwhelming. But the straight lines of vertebra that stream the ceiling remind visitors of one of the exhibit’s motifs: the backbone, a fundamental feature that classifies a mammal as such.

            The curators of the exhibit cleverly made the largest mammals the centerpieces of the room—one cannot miss the hippopotamus, with its gaping mouth large enough to hold several baseballs, or the European bison with its massive body and wooly fur. However, once one has looked at the large animals, the countless smaller ones that span the wall become incredibly interesting. The giraffe whose head is just several feet shy of the ceiling is juxtaposed with the Indian hedgehog—a creature only a few inches in length. Even commonplace mammals (for instance, the “black rat”) suddenly become fascinating when they are given a scientifically significant name (Rattus rattus) and a definitive place of origin (India and Malasia). Moreover, the many small mammals on display around the exhibit’s perimeter are supplemented with skeletons, which show the incredible similarity in structure mammals share with one another. Thus, just as the exhibit aims at demonstrating the diversity among mammals, so it portrays the level of conservation mammals have maintained during evolution.

            A set of stairs allows visitors to view the exhibit from an aerial perspective—to be a mere foot away from the lanky vertebrae of the whales or to be level to the giraffe’s head. Interestingly, this upper-level contains a small exhibit on birds; patrons of the museum are therefore are able to see the mammalian class—comprised of animals that largely live on the ground—from the perspective of birds, which fly. The exhibit’s ability to not only teach about animal interactions, but to also place visitors in the actual perspective of the different kinds of animals, is fascinating and deliberate. Moreover, an exhibit on aquatic life—complete with dim lighting and shimmering patterns on the wall to simulate the ocean—immediately precedes the “Great Mammal Hall,” an exhibit that is rather brightly lit; this allows visitors to viscerally feel the contrast between animal groups. The mammal exhibit is also the very last one of the museum; it serves as a culmination, as it portrays the very group of living organisms that we humans ourselves are part of.

            Indeed, among the mammals presented, the exhibit includes a real human skeleton, adorned with an information card (just like any other specimen) reading: “Human, homo sapiens, Haplorrhini-Hominida, Worldwide.” The fact that the bones of our own species are in a glass case for show initially elicits feelings of disgust and horror; however, it prompts viewers to step back and question the ethical dilemma inherent to the exhibit. How can animals consent to have their lifeless bodies and skeletons on display? By placing a human skeleton alongside one of the “eastern gorilla,” an important theme of the exhibit is underscored: all mammals are equal in terms of importance and fascinating qualities, and no mammal is superior to another.

            In fact, the exhibit as a whole raises the moral question of how a museum can display the bodies of deceased animals in a way that sets a tone of vivacity, not cruelty. The irony of the situation is clear: the information cards that label many of the animals reads, in bold letters, “endangered.” It is difficult to assess whether it is counterintuitive to place the lifeless body of an endangered animal in a museum, when the number of these animals worldwide are so few.

            However, the benefits of the exhibit are also quite clear. It not only teaches visitors about the diversity—and similarities—between mammals, but it provides a cultural awareness of the importance to maintain this diversity. Therefore, the exhibit demonstrates a cross-section between cultural and scientific understandings: how learning science—the fields of biology, taxonomy, and evolution—is critical for understanding our place and the place of other mammals (whom we share a surprising resemblance to) in the world. Indeed, if you stand at the very front of the exhibit, it appears that the various cattle, deer and buffalo before you are staring straight at you—that you standing face-to-face with creatures that, upon closer inspection, are not so different from yourself.