There’s been a lot of debate around pit bulls for years, and the sides are pretty predictable: some people argue they are only violent because of bad upbringing and abuse; others argue that the breed is genetically predisposed to aggressive and unpredictable behavior. I fall firmly in the latter camp.
Are there are exceptions to the “killer pit bull” stereotype? Sure. Nugget, who is truly the meekest, sweetest dog to ever live, is apparently 75% pit bull genetically; the only indication is her blocky head. Whatever pit is in her is completely subsumed under the other 25% of her genetic heritage (we highly suspect she has some rat terrier and/or Australian Cattle Dog in her). But no one would look at Nugget and say, “that’s a pit bull.”
We all know what a pit bull is, even if their advocates will try to argue that it’s “not really a breed” (funny how they’ll argue the breed isn’t inherently violent, then in the next breath argue the breed doesn’t exist; you can see why this dog is a favorite of single white liberal ladies in their thirties). It reminds me of that Supreme Court justice who, when asked to define pornography, said (to paraphrase), “I know it when I see it.”
Here is a pit bull. It’s a beautiful dog, don’t get me wrong. I also wouldn’t let it anywhere near my hypothetical children.
“Portly, didn’t you have a bull terrier?” Yes, and that’s a challenging and neurotic breed. I loved Murphy, but she wasn’t a saint; she infamously scratched one of my nephews one horrible Christmas (she was super stressed out, but it was still totally unacceptable; my nephew was fine, but understandably shaken up). I did a lot of work with her to test her boundaries and to ensure she wouldn’t go too far or get too rough. Additionally, the bull terrier, while sharing some common stock with the American pit bull, was bred to be super friendly towards humans. Other than that one unfortunate incident, Murphy loved people.
I still would never let her around a two-year old.
I’ve long suspected that a lot of the rhetoric around pit bulls isn’t really about dogs—it’s about race. I don’t believe that one’s race automatically defines a person, but there are clear differences between human races other than skin tone. For example, some Asians are lactose intolerant, while most Europeans aren’t; people of African descent are more likely to suffer from sickle cell anemia. These things don’t mean one group of people is inherently better or worse than another (“all hail the dairy drinkers!”), just that genetics are real and play some role in who we are.
Anyone who has ever had children, or witnessed young children develop, knows this intuitively, even if they’d never say it out loud. My niece is my mother; the older of my two nephews is my father. It’s absolutely wild how they’ve inherited personalities and traits and talents across generations. Obviously, my niece and nephews are their own people, with their own unique quirks and abilities, but it’s striking how much they have ingrained behaviors and mannerisms, not just from their parents, but from their grandparents. The dynamic between my niece and the older nephew is like watching my parents interact.
Again, let me stress what I’m not saying. I’m not saying that biology is 100% destiny. But I’m also rejecting the “blank slate”—we have all sorts of things imprinted upon us genetically from the moment of conception. That’s a really beautiful thing.
Similarly, dogs are influenced by their genetics. This shouldn’t be controversial—we literally breed dogs into breeds. What makes a breed a “breed” are the distinct characteristics between them. Some dogs are bred for companionship; some for hunting; some for receiving; some for pointing.
Some are bred as brutal killing machines. And we’re kidding ourselves if think we are safe just because we’re nice to the brutal killing machine.
But, again, for a certain segment of the population, I suspect their fear is that if we draw that conclusion about dogs, we might draw that conclusion about humans. Never mind that humans are ensouled; that we’re made in the Image of God; that God Gave us intelligence and self-control. Sure, some people might have more or less intelligence or restraint than others, but they can make a conscious effort to overcome or mitigate at least some of their biology.
What prompted this lengthy reflection was this post from Substack author Georgi Boorman. I can’t say I disagree with her overall thesis.
Here is my response:
PREACH! The whole debate over pit bulls really serves, at a secondary level, as a proxy for a debate about race. “If we can get the environment just right, the pit bull will be totally fine and never randomly ‘snap’ and maul a granny or two-year old.” The problem is that that level of unhinged, neurotic ferocity is bred, literally, into the DNA of the dogs. Even if “some pitties aren’t violent,” pit bulls in aggregate are. At best, they’re like playing with a loaded gun.
The error is that some people reason that, if we can prove that pit bulls aren’t slaves to their biology, then we can prove that people aren’t, either. It’s a category error: while biology and race do play some role in a humans’ behaviors, humans possess souls and wills that allow them to mitigate and control those instincts and impulses (and the Holy Spirit Can truly Transform people by Transforming their souls).
A dog doesn’t have that luxury, and some dogs—even with lots of training and love—are simply going to be aggressive. There are endless stories of pit bulls being precious lambs for ten years and then turning on their owners or killing a kid.
But acknowledging that pit bulls are bred for violence means—gasp!—potentially acknowledging that people’s biology might influence them, too, and we can’t have that! We’re all soulless blank slates (and if that’s the case, the pit bulls must be, too). It’s ridiculous.
Do I think some people—not races, just individual people—are more predisposed genetically to violence? Yes, of course, just like some people are predisposed to alcoholism, drug abuse, fitness, hyper-intelligence, dementia, heart disease, high blood pressure, musical ability, athleticism, and a host of other positive and negative traits and conditions. But we have some degree of control over those qualities. We can’t necessarily ignore them, but we can attempt to mitigate them. I never took up drinking alcohol simply because I know I am predisposed to excess (see also: my eating habits), and there are members of my extended family who have struggled with it. Given the way I started downing coffee as soon as I developed a taste for it, my fear was that I’d do the same with beer (all alcohol just tastes like really strong cough syrup to me).
Dogs don’t have that luxury. Maybe we can mitigate some of their genetic tendencies through adequate training. But pit bulls simply aren’t the risk. The evidence (warning—there’s some unsettling stuff there) of their aggression and destructiveness is just too great to ignore. And when a muscle-bound pit bull loses control, he doesn’t just leave Granny with a few scratches or a small bite; he kills her.
Maybe we can breed out the worst tendencies, but, again, why risk it? There are so many other happy, productive, mentally stable dog breeds out there. Why are we obsessed with this one? Proving some amorphous point about nature versus nurture isn’t worth the lost lives, the permanent injuries, the brutal maulings.