A fascinating new study has popped the bubble on one of wildlife’s long-held assumptions: baboons don’t march in single file to dodge danger or race to food—they do it to stroll alongside their mates. Researchers from Swansea University tracked 13 wild chacma baboons in South Africa’s Cape Peninsula using high-resolution GPS collars. Over 36 days, they observed 78 separate troop movements. What they found turned previous ideas on their head: the baboons’ travel patterns weren’t strategic, dominant-led or defensive—they were social, shaped more by friendships than by anything else.
At first glance, baboon “progressions”—the orderly-looking lines they form when moving together—might seem tactical. In the past, researchers assumed these patterns had evolved to reduce risk, perhaps placing dominant males in protective positions or giving leaders a clear line of sight. Some theories pointed to food-based competition or hierarchical decisions driving troop layout. But the GPS data, published in Behavioral Ecology, suggested something else entirely.
Rather than strategic positioning, the researchers found that baboons tend to travel next to their closest social partners. Dominant or well-connected baboons often ended up in the middle of the line, while those lower down the pecking order walked at the front or the back. But this arrangement wasn’t about shielding or guiding—it was simply who they were comfortable with. According to Dr. Andrew King, one of the lead authors, the idea of baboons walking in lines for safety just didn’t stack up. The front-runners weren’t taking charge—they were just tagging along with their friends.
The researchers used the term “social spandrel” to describe this phenomenon.
In architectural terms, a spandrel is the space that exists between arches—it’s not built intentionally but emerges as a by-product of structure. In this context, the neat formation of baboons in line is a by-product of their social relationships rather than a deliberate behavioural strategy. It’s not a safety tactic; it’s incidental—friendship that just happens to look organised from a distance.
This matters because it adds another layer of nuance to how we interpret animal behaviour. For a long time, there’s been a tendency to explain non-human actions through the lens of survival—everything from feeding and fighting to movement and mating. But this study, like previous research on primate social dynamics, hints at a broader truth: not everything wild animals do is tactical. Some of it is just personal. It reflects emotional bonds, long-standing connections, and what we might reasonably describe as friendship.
The implications go beyond academic curiosity. Social bonds in baboons have already been linked to tangible outcomes. In a long-term study of baboon populations in Kenya, researchers found that females with stronger social ties lived longer and had more surviving offspring. Their support systems—built through grooming, proximity, and companionship—had biological benefits. This new finding about walking patterns reinforces that. The baboons’ connections don’t just influence their emotional wellbeing; they shape how they move through the world.
It’s also a helpful reminder that movement, in social species, often mirrors social structure. Think of how children cluster with their friends on school trips or how people at concerts or parks slowly gravitate toward familiar faces. Our own behaviour is often guided by the same invisible pull. We stick close to the people we trust. The baboons just make that visible.
Interestingly, this research was only possible thanks to technology that’s becoming more common in animal studies. The GPS collars used by the Swansea team collected data at high resolution—every second, for 12 hours a day. That’s a level of detail which lets researchers analyse not just where animals go, but who they’re next to, how long they stick together, and how their routes shift based on social factors. The study was part of the larger MOVE project, which uses GPS tracking to understand animal movement and ecology worldwide.
What also stood out was how consistent these friendship-driven walking patterns were.
Even as the group traversed different terrains or navigated environmental challenges, the baboons largely maintained their social clusters within the line. That suggests their social ties trump other variables. Even in the wild, even when moving between sleeping sites or foraging spots, the urge to stick close to your people remains strong.
And from a conservation standpoint, that could matter. Understanding social structure is vital when managing or relocating wildlife groups. It’s not enough to just preserve individuals—you have to preserve their connections, too. Disrupting those social bonds, intentionally or not, could have a knock-on effect on group cohesion, health, and even movement patterns. As we design protected areas, wildlife corridors or management plans, factoring in the value of friendship might sound sentimental—but it’s increasingly backed by science.
This study also adds to a growing body of work that challenges older, more mechanistic views of animal life. The idea that everything is about dominance, territory, or survival doesn’t hold up across the board. Sometimes, what looks like order or instinct is really something softer—and maybe more relatable. The baboons aren’t walking in line to guard themselves. They’re doing it because they’re social creatures with preferences, bonds, and a tendency to stick together. It’s not about power. It’s about pals.
And perhaps that’s the most human thing about them. When you strip away the fur and fangs, what you see is a pattern that echoes our own: we walk with our mates, sit with our mates, and go out of our way to stay close to the people we care about. So next time you see a line of baboons moving through the bush, don’t assume you’re witnessing military precision. You might just be watching a group of mates going home together.
As one of the researchers put it, understanding these “spandrels” helps us see animals not as little machines following preset scripts, but as individuals navigating a social world—not unlike our own. And in a time when both human and animal communities are under increasing pressure, that shift in perspective might just help us treat both with a little more care.