We are all familiar with the idea of the alpha wolf. The most toxic corners of the Internet are awash with the concept; so-called motivational speakers such as Andrew Tate and Jordan Peterson peddle its prowess. Throw me to the wolves and I will return leading the pack—an idiom attributed to the Roman philosopher Seneca and, more recently, used as a tagline by reality-TV star Lisa Vanderpump—is one of the more popular slogans circulating online. If wolves operate like this in the wild, the thinking goes, then we can legitimize our own behavior as just part of the natural order. But, inconveniently, alpha wolves don’t exist.
It was the animal behaviorist Rudolph Schenkel who claimed that a pack of wolves is dominated by the strongest, fittest male, with his subordinates constantly vying to depose him. Working in Switzerland in the 1930s, his study group comprised up to 10 unrelated wolves, taken from different zoos and held in an enclosure measuring approximately 10 by 20 yards. Any offspring, unable to strike out for new territories as they would in the wild, were instead forced to compete with their elders. It is difficult to imagine a less natural situation, and yet Schenkel’s work became the key text for understanding pack structures in the wild.
