In Defense of Spiders

When I was a small child, my mother kept a grotesque collection of enormous spiders in jars lining a dusty shelf in our basement. I remember sneaking into this forgotten corner to peek at the sinister legs and bulbous bodies of these tiny monsters. This was consistent with my fascination at the time for all things macabre. The spider held the same power over me as witches, vampires and goblins. All of which equated to sleepless nights and unspeakable terror in my young mind.

Maybe it was my later love for Charlotte’s Web or maybe it was my mother chiding, “that tiny little thing? It’s probably more afraid of you than you are of it” whenever I refused to squish one, but eventually, my fear transformed into acceptance. I’ve come to view the lowly spider as perhaps the most maligned creature on this planet.

And yet, isn’t a fear of spiders innate or better yet, justified? After all, the venom of a brown recluse causes large skin lesions that can lead to deadly infection. However, to become infected, the wound would have to go untreated. This is an unlikely scenario. We even have anti-venoms to toxins from black widows and brown recluses. Death by spider bite is exceedingly rare, averaging less than ten people per year worldwide.

Furthermore, the likelihood that the spider creeping across your walls even has deadly venom is extraordinarily small. According to Encyclopedia Britannica, of the more than 43,000 species of spiders, “less than 30 (less than one-tenth of one percent) have been responsible for human deaths.” Of these, most will only attack in self-defense.

Our collective discomfort has no reasonable basis in reality. What then are the origins of our near-universal apprehension? Some argue the cause is evolutionary, others due to early negative experience. Both seem unlikely, considering the miniscule number of potentially harmful or even painful spider bites.

I contend that this prejudice is learned. We see our parents react with fear or disgust and we learn to react the same. But what started this cycle of intergenerational arachnophobia? A historical analysis by Dr. Graham Davey of City College in London found spiders were blamed when plagues swept through Europe in the middle ages. Although we now know spiders were not responsible for these pandemics, the “disease-avoidance response of disgust” remains. And this repulsion equates to fear for many of us.

While there is currently no evidence that spiders spread disease (their venom is sterile), there are insects that do. Mosquitos carrying infectious parasites, bacteria or viruses are responsible for about 1 million human deaths each year. As the climate changes, mosquitos will invade more of the world and infect more humans. Spiders are poised to help save us from this fate.

We all fulfill a vital role in our ecosystem, including arachnids. Spiders are predators responsible for curbing the insect population. They are also food for birds and other small animals. There is a delicate balance required for life to continue on this planet. In assuming we have dominion over nature, many of us have forgotten the crucial importance of balance in ensuring our survival.

In my advocacy for spiders, I occasionally find myself balancing precariously on wobbly dining room chairs as I attempt to rescue a crawly friend from execution. And I wonder: how many have paused to marvel at the ornate beauty of the spider’s web? Or have thought to thank one for devouring the plant-ravaging pests in their garden? Perspective is everything.

As autumn arrives, the sunsets grow more spectacular and leaves fall to their crunchy beds. The crispness of the air leads us to bundle up or go inside. And so do spiders, our awkwardly long-legged friends. They may excite disgust in us, but I hope we can rationalize it away and welcome them. Or at least safely escort them outside.