Animal Person

On Dogs and Unconditional Love

Saturday was the one-year anniversary of the tragic death of my Charles Hobson Booger, III and it got me thinking about how easy he was to love. Everyone loved him. Okay, not everyone. There was that little Westie whose vulva he bit early on. Yes, vulva. No stitches, no puncture, but still a nasty bruise and some scratches. Charles had a higher prey drive than he appeared to have at first. No playing with little white dogs, which isn't uncommon for greyhounds. We just had to work with him and manage him and we were happy to do so.

As for people, Charles loved everyone and was very enthusiastic to meet someone new. He was 85 pounds (large for a greyhound), very muscular (odd for a greyhound) and spectacularly gorgeous, with Pharaoh Hound-like ears. Easy to love.

And as much as I miss him, this post isn't about Charles. Nor is it about Violet Rays, who is still with us at nearly 12-years old. She's an insulin-dependent diabetic who can hardly see (she had cataracts which we replaced, but then her retinas started to detach and we didn't catch them in time) and has very few teeth due to severe gum disease (greyhound breeders and trainers don't take care of the teeth of the hounds, as that's not where the money is). She has definitely slowed down, but she looks great and has perked up a bit now that it's regularly under 90 degrees and the humidity decreases by the week.

Violet's stunning, and that's what everyone notices first and comments on. But she's not really keen on anyone and isn't at all social. People like her because she's beautiful. Violet doesn't want to be touched unless she comes to you or you approach her very carefully and ask permission. She's not snuggly. She doesn't follow me from room to room (that was Charles' job), and she barely lifts her head when I walk in the door (as opposed to Charles, who'd come running). She doesn't want Sky to come that close to her and she's no fan of Emily the kitty.

I wouldn't say Violet loves unconditionally.

And none of that matters, because Violet doesn't exist to boost my self-esteem. We adopted Violet to give her a safe and loving home. She had already been returned by people who didn't want to deal with her diabetes because it was inconvenient for them. And it is inconvenient.

Now that I have a child, I can safely say that children are very, very inconvenient. Far more than a diabetic greyhound. But you love them and they're part of your family and returning them would be unthinkable. You do what's necessary for them because they deserve the best chance at a great life, and if they never thank you that shouldn't matter.

What you do for them isn't contingent upon what they give you in return.

And the same should be true for nonhuman animals. They shouldn't have to be beautiful, perfectly behaved, healthy and wanting a human as the center of their universe for them to be deserving of a good life.

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No greyhounds were forced to race in the above photo. They were actually cooling down by walking at their leisure after playing in the adjacent field.

On "Imposing" Our Beliefs on Our Children

It's fascinating, how what 98% of Americans do with their children is called "parenting" and "guidance." It can also be referred to as "transmission of culture," with its handing down of the trappings, rituals, holidays and even mutilations of religion and ethnicity.

But what I do is "imposing" or "forcing" veganism and atheism on my child. It's not parenting; it's considered behavior that's irresponsible at best, and abusive at worst.

As far as atheism goes, I'd rather my child have a healthy skepticism that is fact driven and science driven. I'd rather stress personal responsibility and the realistic notion that life isn't fair and owes you nothing. And that we have the ability to change our lives and circumstances (and that that is a statement of privilege). You know what would be irresponsible? For me to tell my daughter that there's some invisible being who, if he desires, can control anything in the universe he wants to control. Including her life. That she needs to respect that being, or else. Or even worship that being, who may or may not exist. That she might suffer tremendously in her life, and that the Being With Ultimate Power is actually doing her a favor by making her suffer. By choosing her to suffer in the manner in which she suffers. He has his reasons.

My parents did their best to raise my sister and me. They did nothing controversial and my sister and I grew up more or less just like most of our friends on suburban Long Island. We were presented with animals to eat and wear. We ate and wore them. We were presented with animal bodies to celebrate over at holidays. Animal skin to wear on our feet.

When my husband and I first adopted Baby Sky, several friends and relatives asked, "are you going to make her be a vegan? And what happens if she decides to eat meat later on?" Essentially, my parents made me eat and wear dead animals. I grew up respecting dogs and cats, but not other animals. Animals existed for my entertainment in zoos, water parks and at circuses. It wasn't in the consciousness of my parents that the values they were transmitting were marked by disrespect for others. They were simply raising us as best they could within the mainstream culture.

One could also say, however, that they were imposing their beliefs on us. They were forcing us to be consumers of animal exploitation industries. I'm not sure if it technically takes a level of intent to force or impose beliefs, or if you can do it by default by not offering other options or not encouraging critical thinking. Saying, "we eat animals, because that's what we do" may make no sense whatsoever, but it's the reason many people continue to eat animals. To do or think otherwise, to acknowledge the absence of logic or empathy in that reasoning, is to open a door that cannot be closed, regardless of the behavior that follows.

When I was in my teens, I told my dad (who was driving the Catholic bus, while mom drove the bus headed toward Buddhism) that I wasn't going to go to church until girls could be priests. I'd been thinking about the set-up of The Church and didn't like it. I had good reasons, which were listed, listened to and respected, and I stopped going to church. And when I discovered what animals went through on their way to becoming our meals, I made appropriate changes in that direction as well.

I'm raising my daughter with a clear, stated ethic: Respect other beings, as no one exists for your benefit. I'm forcing that on her just as much as the omnivores next door are forcing their ethics on their children, through their words and deeds.

It's transmission of a culture that I'm proud of.

If Sky reaches her teens and decides that animals do indeed exist for our benefit, and that there is a god whom she'd like to worship (and furthermore, that her name is spelled Skye), we'll deconstruct those notions together and she will do what she will do. But I won't feel like I had done her a disservice by raising her with a heart for justice and a mind for inquiry.

Vegan Atheist 40+ Parenting

I was going to change Animal Person to Vegan Atheist 40+ Parenting and come back to blogging. Doesn't have a ring to it at all, but a young man at Whole Foods yesterday called himself an "animal person" while ordering a roast beef wrap and I thought: Note to self-must change blog name if going to resume blogging.

Hal Herzog writes about how many people who say they are vegetarians will also say they ate meat within the last 24 hours. And of course, many self-identified vegetarians eat fishes and/or chickens. A good friend said he "loved" animals the other day and my response was, "Yeah, you love them grilled." He laughed, but nervously.

Then there are the people who use the word "sacred" when they're talking about eating the flesh of other animals. You know, because of the prayer they said for the animal's "sacrifice." You say a prayer and Poof! The unnecessary killing of a terrified animal who was likely fighting for his life, becomes he lined up to be slaughtered so you may dine on his flesh. Oooo, pick me, pick me!

My doctorate in Applied Linguistics from New York University puts me at a considerable disadvantage. I pay attention to the words people say--and write. And sometimes I feel like words weren't made to get that much attention. They can't handle it. So many of them have become virtually meaningless, or at least unrecognizable from their original intentions.

Hal Herzog's "Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat"

Hal Herzog’s “Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat” (Harper 2011), though fascinating, is ultimately depressing for vegans and animal rights activists. Over at Animal Rights and AntiOppression, we’ve been discussing tactics and sharing our thoughts and experiences about what works and doesn’t work when it comes to advocacy. In a manner that’s Malcolm Gladwell meets Freakonomics, which is the fascinating part, Herzog investigates our beliefs and actions regarding nonhuman animals (anthrozoology). He pairs conventional wisdom with actual research on such wisdom and speaks to experts who’ve been pondering the issues from the perspectives of their various disciplines. The research, much of the time, doesn’t support the conventional wisdom (which is not to say the case is closed on any issue). For instance, dolphins don’t actually have the curative powers some claim they have (22); there’s no evidence that pet owners have different personalities than non pet owners (28); having to kill and cut up an animal does not stop one from eating meat (189); the majority of people who abused animals as children do not grow up to be violent (30); and 80% of serial killers do not have a known history of cruelty to animals (31). Herzog states, “The awkward fact is that most wanton animal cruelty is not perpetrated by inherently bad kids but by normal children who will eventually grow up to be good citizens” (34).

 

Most interesting for me was the mental lock most people have that we vegans are always looking to break or find the key to: Why do good people who understand what happens to animals for unnecessary products such as “steak” or eggs, continue to consume such things? The answer, throughout the entire 300 pages, essentially is: Because they do. People believe one thing and do another. All day long. If slaughterhouses had glass walls? Well, as it turns out neither a trip to a slaughterhouse nor killing an animal yourself is powerful enough to make people go vegan. “The bottom line is that there are many reasons why human-animal interactions are so often inconsistent and paradoxical. Thousands of studies have demonstrated that human thinking about nearly everything is surprisingly irrational” (65).

 

Much of the book deals with topics vegans have likely pondered, likely frequently. We understand the importance of being cute for other animals, we’ve realized that the decision who to eat or wear or value is largely based on culture. Many of us have difficulty with the idea of keeping “pets.” On that topic and a few others, Herzog doesn’t include what for lack of a better term is “vegan thinking.” When it comes to pets, the only reasons he considers for keeping pets have to do with the enrichment of the lives of people. He doesn’t seem to have met anyone who considers keeping pets to not be ideal, yet necessary out of a feeling of responsibility or obligation due to our part in their plight. And by the way, he debunks the idea of dogs and unconditional love, as well as the idea that pet owners are less lonely than people who don’t own pets. At least his research on pit bull-types of dogs demonstrates the injustice they face.

 

Herzog, unsurprisingly, uses “it” to refer to animals, eats and wears them, and “[does] not feel particularly guilty about it” (P.S., page 6). He is an unabashed speciesist, putting humans on “a different moral plane from that of other animals” (11) due to various reasons, such as our “vastly greater capacity for symbolic language, culture, and ethical judgment” (11). He watched cockfighting and killed and skinned animals, but won’t eat veal. And this is partly what’s so disappointing about the message of this book: Herzog amasses the research, and sees and does things that involve tremendous suffering and injustice. And yet he’s perfectly content to lump himself in with the vast majority of people who claim to care about animals but act like they don’t. My frustration is evident in the comments I’ve carved across the pages that make it impossible for me to now donate the book to my local library.

 

On page 172, when Herzog writes, “I am conflicted over many moral issues involving animals,” I respond, “No kidding!” When he spends what seems like an eternity discussing cockfighting and the people who participate, mostly to set up the comparison to how the chickens we eat are treated and the lack of outrage over that, I respond, “What is wrong with you? You’re right, it is horrible! So why the hell do you continue to participate in the killing of chickens for food, yet cockfighting is no longer on your list?” But I’m merely making his point. People are irrational and conflicted and make a show of taking a stand but manage to still do whatever they want in the end. When Staci, an ex-vegetarian who now eats raw meat, writes to Herzog that she thinks it takes bravery to kill animals (she says “butcher) and talks about “reverence” and “completing the cycle” and that “taking responsibility is somehow the balm that soothes the horror,” I wonder why Herzog isn’t disgusted by that and doesn’t want to call her out for her ridiculous verbiage that means nothing to the animals she kills. What about their horror?  In response, I can only underline these phrases with seven-page deep gashes.

 

Most informative for a discussion about vegan advocacy is the section about the animal rights movement (and unfortunately he alternately calls it “animal protection” and also refers to welfare, perhaps because of the Humane Research Council’s study that people prefer the word “protection”). “The campaign to moralize meat has largely been a failure. . . . Ironically, the efforts by animal protectionists to improve the well-being of farm animals have made the consumption of flesh more, rather than less, morally palatable” (191).

 

Finally, regarding actual animal rights, Herzog is aware of Singer and Regan and appears to have respect for them despite the fact that he says they “[take] moral consistency too seriously” (259). (Yes, you read that right.) Joan Dunayer is a different story, however, as Herzog thinks she “lives in a moral universe that should cause even hardcore animal activists to shudder” (255). He evidently has no idea that abolitionists exist and thinks Dunayer is an outlier. Of course I was appalled, but out there in the mainstream world, she is an outlier. He merely reminds me of how little I have in common with the average person who claims to care about animals. Meanwhile, throughout the book he does describe people who would likely call themselves abolitionists. They are vegans, and he has the utmost respect for them. They are superheroes for being able to think about all of these issues so thoroughly and have the will power to do something about them. They are extraordinary. But him? He prefers to take the stance that because moral consistency is impossible (i.e., no one is 100% vegan), you “do what you can do.” If that means volunteering at a dog rescue or giving money to PETA, all while eating and using animals, at least you’re doing something. Of course that can be debated. But also, it’s such a low, low bar—such a disappointing expectation. We should demand more.

 

Clarification on Messaging

Vegan education/advocacy for animals is easiest for me when I know my audience. And by "know," I mean I have a relationship with them and/or I understand what drives them, what they appreciate and what they can tolerate. From there, my job is to use images and language that they are comfortable with, especially at the beginning, and then to nudge them gently into areas that challenge their thoughts and actions. Some people can tolerate more than a gentle nudging. Some people get what to me is disproportionately defensive if I'm anything but very accepting of their choices and how much they want to know. Of course, those people, who are often the "spiritual" ones, are particularly frustrating to deal with.

I was going in a different direction with this post when I read Deb's "Effective Images in Advocacy: Do We Know What Works?" this morning. She makes such a great point that I want to address it now. We don't know what works. Everyone has an opinion. Everyone has a story. Anecdotal evidence abounds. We all have a personal preference. But when it comes to reaching the maximum number of people and creating the maximum impact, we simply don't know what does the job, although we do know what we're willing to do.

If you've seen The Witness, you know that Eddie drove around with a van that had a continuously looping video of what it takes to get the fur that some find so appealing (and he gave out leaflets, too). And right now, Mercy for Animals' Farm to Fridge Tour is doing that too, in addition to picketing and getting mainstream media exposure for the short film. PETA's been using horrifying images for years. Earthlings is devastating and although I watched it in full, I can't imagine anyone I know being prepared for it or agreeing to watch more than a few minutes.

I spent years forcing people to look at photos of bludgeoned baby seals, "veal" calves in crates and skinned animals. I always used the words "flesh" and "enslavement." I don't think any of that was incorrect, per se. But I can say that it immediately put the other person on the defensive. As far as I know, all I accomplished was presenting myself as an angry person who people didn't want to talk to again.

Okay . . . maybe I used the word "murder." Maybe I used it regularly. And just maybe that was the word more responsible than others for me alienating people. Maybe. I can't say for sure. I was the embodiment of "agitating for social change." I was agitating everyone.

Challenging someone's beliefs--or clarifying that their beliefs are not aligned with their actions--is an adversarial task inherently. And it's up to us to decide just how adversarial it should be. But I can't imagine that there's one way to do it and we should criticize every other way. If you find something that works for you with your audience, I say keep doing it.

 

On Fighting for "Animal Rights"

Being featured on ARZone's worldwide Live Guest Chat has reinvigorated my thinking about a couple of topics (here's the transcript). And then I read the "OMG!!!!!OED!!!!!LOL!!!!!" in today's New York Times, and I couldn't resist posting.

A couple of years ago I wrote about whether it's a good use of my time to be a purist about the term "animal rights" when most of the world doesn't have the same understanding of the term as I do. (I'll look for the post and link to it later, but while Baby Sky's not up yet I want to at least post something.) Likewise for "abolitionist."

Regarding the additions of OMG and LOL, the editorial says that they:

bring to mind the words of William Safire, The Times’s former master wordsmith, who climbed down from the conservative ramparts in the culture wars 25 years ago to accept that “words come to mean what most people think they mean, not what we say they ought to mean.”

I spent several years writing, daily, and often with shock, about how, for instance, the NYT--the New York Times (OMG!!!!!)--would call HSUS an animal rights group (after all, HSUS doesn't even do that). Or how a paragraph would refer to animal rights and animal welfare as if they're interchangeable.

Of course, I say to myself, language is worth fighting for. But is it? Won't the battle always be won by common usage/the majority? Isn't my time better spent fighting for actual animal rights than the term "animal rights?"

I think of the time I spent writing about or talking about "Francione-style abolition," and "abolition." Francione has defined abolition in a certain way and if you don't adhere strictly to his definition, you are not a Francione-style abolitionist. The rest of the animal advocacy community, which is the vast majority, who call themselves abolitionists, are abolitionists. They don't satisfy all of the requirements of Francione, but their goal is the abolition of the use of sentient nonhumans by humans. They are abolitionists, just not Francione-style abolitionists.

It would be wonderfully dramatic to be able to say: I'm going to fight for animals rather than for language, but it's not that clear cut. Fighting to maintain the integrity of the words humane, love, euthanasia or compassion, is also fighting for animals. And it usually involves exchanges with non-vegans. It helps them focus on what's really being done to animals. But fighting for the term animal rights or about the term abolition ends up, in the real world, being about fighting with other vegans (and I don't know if fighting is the proper term--it very likely isn't--but I'm out of time to get into that).

I could debate about language all day, with vegans and non-vegans. But I have to think about which words I focus on, and whether they're going to help me in my quest to get more people to stop killing nonhuman animals/having them killed when they don't need to.

Finally, I think that there are a variety of reasons you might want to talk about language or use language that the average person isn't accustomed to. But for the average discussion with the average dog and cat person, I say stick with the language they use ("I love animals," "I only buy meat that was humanely raised"), and use those opportunities to educate them and point out the inconsistency in their claims. I say don't start talking about terms that mean nothing to them or using language that might alienate them.

But that's me . . .

"The Animals We Use," Revised

As anyone who writes and edits knows, it's far easier to produce a longer powerful, thorough piece than a shorter one.

I intentionally deleted the entire section on the environment, I'm not dealing with the health benefits of not using animals, and meanwhile I wanted to present a logical progression of comments and questions that, for its perspective, was thorough. And all while remaining accurate with verbiage.

Thanks for the comments and suggestions. I did change some language as there were places were clarification was needed. But the essence is the same. Thorough is a tough concept, and I can't say I succeeded, but here's my best short(er) version.

I give you: the revised Thinking Critically About The Animals We Use.

 

The Animals We Use

After failing miserably at a long pamphlet in 2007, I decided to shorten it by 50% and focus on a different audience: people who use animals. I think part of the original work's problem was that it was too ambitious--not to mention expensive to produce--and everything suffered. I wanted to reach people who use animals, but also people who don't, yet who nevertheless advocate for the regulation of the use of animals or give money to organizations that do.

This pamphlet, by the way, is the same one I gave to someone whose response was: The argument for using animals isn't the problem. The argument's flawless. It's just not gonna stop me from eating a steak if that's what I want to eat.

So we already know that, at least for some people, words aren't going to make them care. Words, apparently, do not engender empathy. Or a desire for justice. For that, we need images, I'm afraid. We need to see individual animals and read/hear their stories.

And we need support. I don't know what the effectiveness of online support is, but I do know that talking to people, eating with them, shopping with them, surfing the Internet with them, sharing cooking tips with them, cooking for and with them, and making yourself available for sharing the emotional and social difficulties of a transition from using animals to using them less, does work. That's what I do, and it works, as in--people go vegan and stay vegan.

Thinking Critically About The Animals We Use can be printed on one 11 x 17 sheet and folded in half and isn't designed to make anyone into an activist. But it is designed to help its readers face their own rationales for continuing a behavior that they themselves probably don't agree with. Like part of the original, it traces the conversations I have over and over again, with good people who simply aren't educated about what's involved in the use of animals, or they are, yet they continue to not align their actions with their knowledge and what they believe to be right.

And that disconnect is deadly and reeks of injustice.

----

I thought about calling the pamphlet Thinking Critically About The Ways We Use Animals, but liked the current title because I wanted to bring attention to The Animals first. I did create a but of a grammatical issue, but I'm not sure if it's a distracting one. What do you think?

On Individuals and Thanksgiving

Yesterday, I was on my way to the Foster and Adoptive Parents Association, which has a "store" and allows those parents to "shop" for clothing, toys and baby gear at no cost to them. Basically, they give stuff away, unlike Goodwill and the Salvation Army and others, who charge for their donated goods.

Everyone was slamming on their brakes on a major road and as I crept around the mayhem I saw the reason: a turtle of some kind. His shell was probably ten inches in diameter, and when I looked in my rearview mirror as I was about to pull over I saw several other cars pulling over. Four people emerged from the cars and were practically tripping over one another trying to get to the turtle to carry him to safety.

One small act of kindness perhaps, but for the turtle a life-saving one.

I wondered what these people would be doing for Thanksgiving. All of the brakes and the hazard lights and the cursing and the near collisions and the concern for this one individual. The inconvenience, the worry about the creature, the relief when he was, at least for that moment, free from harm. I couldn't help but juxtapose all of that care for one individual of another species with the individual who would be on the table today. Dead.

And not just dead, mind you, but cause for celebration.

Yet the turtle . . . cause for concern about his welfare. Concern about his life. Kindness. A hope for his life to continue. Even putting yourself in harm's way to help him.

Turtle . . . turkey.

 

 

On Jeff Corwin's 100 HEARTBEATS

When I was asked if I wanted to read Jeff Corwin's 100 HEARTBEATS (Rodale 2009) I was ambivalent. I know he's a "conservationist," therefore I know he will advocate for "managing" the "resources" that are sentient nonhumans. And managing means killing them, breeding them, and otherwise fiddling with their individuals in the hope of altering their populations. This is all very unveganly, but I went for it nevertheless.

Here's the good news: This is a very readable explanation of how animals in the Hundred Heartbeat Club (there are 100 or fewer individuals in the wild today) got to be in the club. It's a great primer on extinction and conservation for the layperson. It has entertaining stories, includes animals people care about because they like them (and also addresses that concept), and it describes how the numbers of various species decreased to the point of being classified as "endangered" or worse. In the majority of cases, it is humans who are to blame for the plunging numbers of animals, and Corwin is very clear about the extent to which we have destroyed the world around us.

The bad news is that Corwin writes that "every heartbeat matters" (xv) largely because "When we put the survival of the natural world in jeopardy, we simultaneously put our survival in jeopardy" (xv, and italics his). This is irksome, as the premise is that we need to save the animals (and which ones is an interesting discussion) because we will suffer if they are gone. And of course that premise is only possible because the animals (and everything else on the planet) are our "resources." But again, he's a conservationist, so none of this is a surprise. Also, after detailing how we're responsible for much of this current, depressing state, there is no loud call for us to alter our behavior.

The animals featured include ones whose predicaments are due to:

• climate change (polar bears);
• poisoning (California condor-lead in shot that killed the individuals who became carrion, American bald eagle-DDT);
• human encroachment/loss of habitat due to our activities, such as logging, mining, drilling and deforestation (Florida panther, Iberian lynx, orangutan);
• pollution (anyone trying to survive in the Yangtze river in China);
• disease (native birds in Hawaii, Tasmanian devils);
• poaching (Bengal tiger);
• or a combination thereof.

It's important to note that Corwin doesn't think he has all of the answers. He does believe we have an obligation to intervene because we are responsible for the current plight of the rest of "the natural world," which we evidently don't belong to. But he constantly wonders where and when and how much we should intervene, which I suppose is laudable.

The part that I definitely believe is laudable, and I can get behind, is in the final chapter: "Exploited to Extinction."

"What does the future hold for the members of the Hundred Heartbeat Club? That depends largely on us, our priorities, and our allocation of resources. Consider this: Every month, it takes $12 billion to fund America's involvement in the Iraq War. For only $450,000, we could buy almost all of the habitat neded to protect Ecuador's remaining frogs.

. . . .

Chances are that in any given community, there's a river that needs to be cleaned up. Or an animal that could use the aid of human intervention, such as the Florida panther, which has benefited from the culverts built to help it safely cross highways (221).

. . . .

Consider all the steps it took to create our massive carbon footprint. Now we just need to step in a different direction. We can--and we must" (222).

Those are the final words of the book. What was not considered in the previous 221 pages is that we can indeed step in a different direction today. We can stop using animals and "allocate resources" to educate Homo sapiens worldwide to change their relationship to the animals around them. Corwin tells the story of the Maasai of Kenya, whose culture involved disdain for and slaughter of lions. Through a program of education "built on mutual respect and interest" (198), the Maasai have now become guardians and caretakers of the lions, whose numbers have increased since the program's inception. In other words, we can change the way we think about animals. Cultural attitudes about animals can change.

In the perfect world, in a different book not written by a conservationist, the author would have left us with myriad ways we can decrease our carbon footprint and help the animals, beginning with ceasing our use of animals. But for now, we have a book that describes how we got here and what we might do . . . if we believe it's our right to do what we want with the lives of other animals.

 

 

 

To My Friends at Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving 2010 will be Baby Sky's first, and our opportunity to introduce her to the notion that our family doesn't eat animals (not to mention that other historical story we'll be correcting). There will be no greyhound corpse on our table, no turkey corpse and no pig corpse. There will be no pies or cakes that were made with milk that was meant for calves, or eggs that represent dead male chicks, forced molting, debeaking and other mutilations and cruelties.

When in the position of having the choice, which so far is always, I'd rather choose not to have someone killed for me. Perfectly delicious and nutritious plant-based food is available for anyone who wants to make that choice this Thanksgiving. I think the biggest obstacle is that most people don't see themselves as choosing to hurt anyone. They would say they love animals. Yet their actions, at least three times a day (and when they put their clothes and shoes on) tell a different story.

The two objections to a vegan Thanksgiving that I hear most often are: It's our tradition and Because it tastes good.

It's our tradition.

Traditions are decided upon. They are consciously, intentionally repeated. And new ones can be created at any moment. I choose to opt out of traditions that cause harm and are the direct result of the exploitation and commodification of beings just like Charles, but who look a little different. And I want Baby Sky to grow up in a home where there is just as much respect for chickens and calves and fishes as there is for greyhounds and cats and people. Of course, the world outside of our home tells a different story. But we can bring our story to that world.

Because it tastes good.

This is a tough one to even dignify as I think it's the most offensive reason for killing someone. In addition, I've never heard it said in anything but a sarcastic or otherwise mocking tone. The conclusion I'm left making is that the person saying "Because it tastes good" thinks that it's funny that a sentient being was raped (in the case of cows), mutilated (chickens, pigs and others) and slaughtered (everyone) because people find them tasty. The other possible explanation is that these people do indeed feel uncomfortable that Because it tastes good is their honest answer. I think that's the case much of the time, but the conversation is too painful and causes so much cognitive dissonance, and sarcasm is the quickest way out of the situation.

Though this Thanksgiving is special for us, it is the opportunity for anybody to decide that this Thanksgiving will be a kindler, gentler, more compassionate one. This Thanksgiving can be a just one: Justice for beings who are like us in the most important of ways. Justice for beings who look very different from us but who, like us, experience pleasure and pain, boredom and frustration. Justice for beings who want to live their lives--who should be able to lives their lives--without being taken from their families and their homes to become a meal. Justice for beings whom we create for the sole purpose of killing, but who nevertheless want to live. We can do many horrible things to them and we can take a lot away from them. But they always have their desire to not be killed.

All it takes is a decision. Decide to choose justice over whatever reason you give for using other animals as food. It might not be easy, given family and societal pressures, but fortunately there are scores of books and websites and podcasts and videos and online vendors--and even restaurants--that can provide guidance (and delicious food). It's never been so easy to have a Just Thanksgiving.

On THE DOG WHO COULDN'T STOP LOVING

When I agreed to read and review Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson's THE DOG WHO COULDN'T STOP LOVING (Harper 2010), the regal Charles Hobson Booger, III was still with us. When it arrived, the day after Charles died, I'll admit to wanting to burn it.

Essentially, I was afraid that the pain would never stop. And the crying would never stop.

But it has lessened some, and I've gained back that five pounds I lost, so I suppose my heart is on the mend. And if it's not, and sometimes I feel it isn't, at least I am able to return to productivity, and even visit Deb's tribute without completely breaking down.

Jeff Masson's new book didn't cause me to unravel, but I did learn a lot about our friends and coevolvers, Canis familiaris. And I received confirmation of something I've known since 2004, when we adopted retired racing greyhound, Violet Rays: That there's sort of a critical period for dog-behavior acquisition, and if it's missed, the dog isn't likely to mature into the type of loving being whose behavior we've come to associate with "pet" dogs.

But let's back up a bit.

This Masson book (here are all of them) is for Benjy, who was supposed to be a service dog but who was, shall we say, less than enthusiastic about the career choice that was made for him. He was adopted by the Masson family and was apparently the most loving dog all who met him had ever had the pleasure of being licked by. Masson tells Benjy's story--and Benjy stories--while explaining his theory about the mutual domestication of dogs and humans. You may know that dog/human coevolution has been a popular topic in the past decade, and if so, this might help: Masson "takes E. O. Wilson's [biophilia] hypothesis and gives it a new twist. Not only have dogs and humans influenced each other for tens of thousands of years, they have done so in far more profound ways than any other two species on earth, and primarily in the direction of acting on the capacity for love in all its different manifestations, such as showing sympathy, feeling empathy, and expressing compassion" (xi).

This coevolution isn't a mere side-by-side existence. The point is that, as Chapter 3 is titled, "Dogs Make Us Human." Masson traces the history of our relationship with dogs, and sprinkles in stories from various cultures that love as well as despise them, and concludes that dogs are more significant to humans than any other animal (39). This includes horses, cats and cows. And he details why. As much as I might love Emily (our kitty), the way Masson sees it, she doesn't love me back in the same way. She's not capable of the kind of love that dogs and humans are capable of for one another--across species. And he presents a pretty compelling argument by basically describing how little regard Emily really has for me and how quickly she'll shred my hand (although she behaves very differently with Baby Sky, interestingly. There's never a claw in sight and she's very patient). However, I have to disagree with page 78's: "Will a cat comfort you when you are sad? He might, but I would not count on it." My experience says otherwise (particularly with my childhood kitty, Brady), but generally speaking Masson's depiction of cats is accurate.

Yes, I wanted to also say to him "Yeah dogs are great, but you didn't see my multi-year relationship with Mr. Magoo, a Muscovy duck who was blind in one eye." But he then addresses that. There are duck stories and elephant stories and pig stories, but the reason we hear about them is because they are extraordinary. The dog's uninhibited, unconditional love of his person/people/maybe even everybody, as in the case of Benjy, is the rule, not the exception. And that concept--and the reason for it--is what drives this book.

(Just a note here: I also think what we the reading public reads about is dictated by what publishers think is worthy. I'd bet that there are far more stories of human/nonhuman, nondog love than we know about. And though the Internet is changing that, part of the reason we all think dogs love us so much is because everyone's always talking about how [most] dogs love us so much, and because we all want to read and hear and watch stories about dogs because that's part of our culture here in the US.)

Our coevolution looked like this: "We reinforced the behavior in one another again and again and again, over many thousands of years, until it was instilled in both species" (55). This is why we aren't anthropomorphizing when we speak of the compassion or love or grief that dogs show. We're not saying they appear to be acting like us; we're saying they're acting like themselves. (And others, such as Marc Bekoff, have also discussed this.)

I'll end with a handful of brief thoughts because this is getting way too long (Baby Sky's been napping and I'm surprised she's still asleep but certain she'll wake any moment):

• There are a couple of potential sore spots for some people in this book, one being the discussion of pit bulls. I don't know enough about pit bulls, however, to say that any part of it is incorrect.
• The fact that if puppies don't get enough love when they are young means they aren't likely to grow into dogs like Benjy explains a lot about greyhounds who are bred, trained and forced to race. Violet Rays raced for over two years, spending her days and nights in a kennel or being transported between South Florida and Oregon, only to be out of her kennel for about two hours per day, and with a muzzle on for that two hours (and maybe even while in the kennel). She exhibits very few characteristics of Benjy, a dog who loves everyone and is ecstatic to do so. Charles, however, who was also bred and trained to race, did so exactly twice. Both times, he refused to leave the gate and he was immediately retired. But because he was with people--and other species of dogs--at a younger age than Violet, he was able to grow into a more dog-like dog.
• We "break" dogs in many ways, training them to race being only one. Masson writes of the slavery of so-called service dogs, and I'm glad he does. 
• He also disagrees with Cesar Millan's claim that we should dominate our dogs.
• Yes, there's a vegan message.

And with that, I hear the beginnings of wakey time on the monitor. Off to Baby Sky's room where, after all of the above, and with plenty of other rooms in the house, I will see none other than Violet Rays and Emily napping next to her crib.

Check out THE DOG WHO COULDN'T STOP LOVING, and let me know where you stand on whether or not dogs make us human.

 

On HIGH IN THE CLOUDS

HIGH IN THE CLOUDS, by Paul McCartney, Geoff Dunbar and Philip Ardagh is supposed to be for Grades 2-4, but its themes, vocabulary and syntax are more advanced.

From Barnes and Noble:

"Wirral the Squirrel is homeless. The evil Gretsch have [sic] destroyed his wilderness home, trampling it in their relentless drive to expand. But Wirral does not despair; he vows to find a new home in Animalia, the fabled land where all creatures are said to live together in freedom. What begins as a personal quest becomes a mission as the brave little acorn-cracker realizes that animals are enslaved everywhere. Sir Paul McCartney, children's book author Geoff Dunbar, and children's book artist Philip Ardagh have created a beautiful book with an ever-timely message."

There's a lot missing in that description, such as the surprising death of Wirral's mother, Sugartail, at the beginning of the book. But if I were to be critical about the narrative of the book, I'd say there's a lot missing there too. For instance, Sugartail's death happens so suddenly and without a lot of explanation. Their home was evidently slated to be bulldozed, and then it was. Done. Me and my doctorate had to reread sections of the book because I kept thinking I overlooked the context or backstory of a handful of details. I even started from the beginning three times because I thought I missed a page or a paragraph.

With that said, the illustrations are wonderful, and the general theme of this adventure story is laudable. This reader would have liked to have seen the story and the characters developed more (and with fewer stereotypes), however. I understand this is a children's book, but particularly if you're trying to be a voice for animals, it would behoove you to make connections that might be missed otherwise. For instance, the animals are enslaved. They are forced to work in factories owned by a hideous woman, Gretsch. Wirral's quest is to free the animals and take them to Animalia, where all animals (and insects, as a flea from a flea circus is a major character, and beetles are mentioned) already are free. But there's no connection made--or no explanation--for how we use animals. Animals are indeed enslaved, but in real life they're not making widgets in factories. And when you read the reviews on various sites that sell the book, there is no mention of how we enslave animals. I don't get a sense that readers really understand the message.

But that's because the message isn't developed. I'm giving the book a vegan/animal rights message because that's my lens. Objectively, however, though the use message is there, believe it or not, you can talk about enslaving animals and still not present a clear vegan message. Or any vegan message. There is no mention of food or skin or zoos. The factory is supposed to be a proxy for all of that, but it doesn't work for me. I wish it did, but it doesn't.

Finally, there's a place over yonder where animals are free (Animalia). And the animals all go there after they are set free. They don't stay where they are (Megatropolis), I think, because humans are destroying it and building cities with evil factories that enslave animals. So there's a pro-environment/anti-development message in the book that, for me, is clearer than the animal rights message. We are destroying their homes, but there's a place where they are free from us. That's a nice message for kids, I guess.

The problem is there isn't really a place they can all go to be free from us, which is why I find the ending strange. I know the ending would have to be a happy one, but rather than mass exodus, how about the animals taking their homes back or . . . something.

I suppose telling young children the details of the enslavement of sentient nonhumans isn't an easy task, and any entree to the discussion is helpful. This book is indeed a way of beginning to discuss what enslavement is and all of the ways we use animals, and for that reason I'll read it to Baby Sky. But probably with plenty of commentary throughout.

 

On Betraying Your Family

Yesterday, in the comments of An Affront to the Idea of Family, Brian wrote:

I understand your concern for those cows that were beat by that man and the unfortunate death of all the cows that died in the snow storm. As a dairy farmer I even had a hard time reading that. I love my cows and I don't anyone touch them in that manner. I am always working for the best environment and the most comfortable situation for my cows, who I consider part of my family. You say that "Family Farms do not exist and that they don't care about their animals." That is not true. I work with my mom and dad twenty other caring individuals to provide the best, most comfortable place for my family members, all 2000 of them. Please talk to us before you start to accuse us of not taking care of our cows, and making what one farmer who is not right the truth of everyone else.

It's a relief to hear that Brian disapproves. However, let's deconstruct his language:

• "I love my cows . . . "
• "who I consider part of my family."
• His family members total 2000.
• "Please talk to us before you start to accuse of of not taking care of our cows."

How, I would ask Brian, does he define "love?" Does it include ownership of individuals ("our cows")? Does he own the human members of his "family?" Does he control their reproduction, their food, when they eat, where they live, and how and when they will die? Does he really equate the cows with the human sentients in his family? Can the humans come and go as they please? Are the humans providing Brian with something he is profiting from (maybe hard work, he'd say), and when they stop he will kill them?

What does it mean to love and take care of someone and consider them part of your family? What does that look like?

Allow me to suggest an answer: It looks like Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary or Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary or Maple Farm Sanctuary or another place where animals are rescued from certain betrayal and death, often under the guise of "love" and "family."

For more on the "love" animal farmers have for "their" animals, see also On Compassionate Carnivores and Betrayal.

More Clarity About Family Farms

In "Move to Limit 'Factory Farms' Gains Momentum" in today's New York Times, we learn that farmers in Ohio have agreed to phase out gestation crates within 15 years and veal crates by 2017. I won't get into whether I find that to be a victory. Here are the sentences that I want to bring attention to:

The family of Irv Bell, 64, has been growing hogs in Zanesville, Ohio, since the 19th century. Where males and females were once put into a pen to mate, sows are now inseminated artificially and most are kept through their pregnancy in a 2-by-7-foot crate, in which they can lie down but not turn.

“I work with the hogs every day, and I don’t think there is anything wrong with gestation crates,” he said.

This adds another layer to yesterday's discussion about family. Irv Bell's farm is a family farm. It's also a factory farm. The marketing of an operation of breeding and slaughtering sentient nonhumans as a family farm (here, Bell straddles the line) is supposed to trigger some kind of compassion for the humans. Whatever judgments you might have about what Bell does and whether or not he finds anything wrong with what he does, you should put them aside. After all, he's part of a family business.

The important word in the phrase "family farm" is the same word that is important in "factory farm." It's the one that matters most to beings who simply want to live their lives without betrayal, disrespect, enslavement and slaughter. And all of those are implicit in "farm." It doesn't matter what word you put before it.

An Affront to the Idea of Family

I'm not one of those people who thinks family is composed of only humans or humans who are biologically related. That's one of the reasons adopting wasn't a stretch for me at all mentally.

The idea of family is currently being used by the dairy industry in a series of commercials with the tag line: "99% of dairy farms are family owned." You see midwestern folk in overalls with tired faces. There are children. Girls. They are proud to be dairy farmers.

Of course, you're supposed to hop onto the following train of thought: These are good people. Good Americans, just trying to keep their families together and eke out a living in these tough times. Buying dairy products supports them.

It doesn't matter to me, but let's for a moment examine the 99%. Ninety-nine percent of dairy farms are family owned. That doesn't mean that 99% of dairy products are from family farms, as the average number of cows on each family farm is just over 100. It's not necessarily the case that buying dairy likely supports one of the families that comprise the 99%.

What you're supposed to be buying into is the idea that if a family owns a farm it is somehow qualitatively different (and of course, better) than a farm that isn't family owned. Families, so the commercials go, don't engage in untoward aspects of animal husbandry that might hurt the cows. The cows are walking around green fields, similar to those in the criminally misleading California cows commercials. The cows' tails swing in the breeze. The family isn't wealthy and they're not sophisticated, but they're proud of what they do. And they certainly wouldn't hurt anybody; that's what those big factory farms do that aren't owned by families.

There's an assumption that a unit known as a family is better to deal with than, say, a person who is merely a member of a family and who wears a suit and drives a fancy car rather than a tractor. When it's put that way, doesn't it sound silly? Families are just as capable of horrendous policies toward animals as anyone else. Their goal is to make a profit from the breeding and slaughter of animals. Period. Just ask former cattle rancher Howard Lyman, who is now a vegan and animal rights activist.

My daughter has given me an extra layer of sensitivity regarding the treatment of female animals. As a woman, I always found it offensive that females are forcibly bred, have their children taken away from them and are milked within an inch of their lives. But now I think about all of that being done to my daughter and I must say the disgust I experience at the notion that a family farm is somehow a wholesome place is a bit overwhelming.

One of the most important things about Deb's blog, Invisible Voices, is that many of the fortunate animals who end up at Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary, where she volunteers, came from family farms.

Yes, factory farms are the stuff of nightmares for nonhuman animals. But so are family farms. I don't care about scale. If someone owns me, forcibly breeds me, takes my kids and ends my life, it's a living hell for me.

--Photo from publicenergy's Flickr photostream.

On Compassionate Bullets

A comment left yesterday on a two-year old post, by None Please presented a phrase I've never heard before and I'd like to address it.

"In the Washington metro area, we have a BIG deer problem. I have a question for you, would you prefer to get shot by a compassionate bullet to the head,and be eaten by a lifeform that thanks god for you flesh and appreciates it. Or to get struck by an automobile, die slowly, of failing internal organs, and be unfit for human consumption."

There's a lot going on in the above three sentences. Let's deconstruct:

On Wipeout and Lion Burgers

Have you seen the ridiculous television show, Wipeout? There's something hilarious about people intentionally putting themselves in a position to be beaten up like Wile E. Coyote. It's all in fun, with much of the humor coming from the commentators and the special sound effects.

It does get old, however, after about 10 minutes. At minute #9 for me last night was a young woman going through one of the obstacle courses and getting pummeled, just like everyone else. The commentator says that part of her winnings will go to abolish animal cruelty (yes, abolish).

Cut to a conversation with the contestant . . .

Interviewer: "Are you a vegetarian?"

Contestant: "Nope. Well, sort of. I mean, I eat chicken and fish."

Interviewer: "Wait, so you want to abolish animal cruelty, except for chickens and fish, (pointing at the contestant) because she doesn't like them?"

Contestant (flustered): "We, well, we used to have chickens on our ranch."

Interviewer: "Oh, so you've killed chickens."

Contestant: "And turkeys."

Interviewer: "Wait a minute now, hold on, so I'm getting a whole different thing. Now you kill turkeys, chickens, fish and--"

Contestant (mortified, laughing, with hand over her mouth): "Cows."

Interviewer: "Cows, okay, there's another one you kill. I think you actually support animal cruelty."

Contestant (laughing): No.

I don't watch much television, so I don't know how extraordinary this moment was. But for me, it was remarkable. I can only hope that even one person watching in the comfort of their great room had an epiphany regarding what they claim to believe and what they do.

If you kill animals or pay someone to do so for you, you support animal cruelty. And no amount of donations to groups that supposedly want to abolish animal cruelty is going to make up for the fact that until you stop having animals killed for you you are part of the problem.

Finally, in my e-mailbox this morning, and probably in yours, was the Care2 newsletter, including a link to a column about a restaurant in Arizona that will soon serve burgers made from lion meat. I was curious about why it's so terrible to eat lions. They're from a legal farm in Illinois, so the law isn't the reason. It's probably going to come down to culture, I thought. Lions aren't food in our culture. But that wasn't it either.

The last paragraph states:

In the U.S. there may be any number of restaurants serving game. However, with lions the story is different because they are a vulnerable species in the wild, and their numbers are declining. Two recent surveys estimated the range of African lions to be 16,500-30,000, or 29,000-47,000.

Here's my first problem with this: The number of lions in the wild is not affected by the farming operation in Illinois. I respect the lives of lions, no matter where they live, and I don't believe that they should be used for food any more than cows should. But I don't feel like I was presented with a compelling argument for not eating lions.

Then come the comments, including one by Devon N, who thinks that the restaurant "is owned by someone without a conscience or soul." Devon N is joined by many others who are appalled by the idea of eating lions.

I understand the impulse to be repulsed by the idea of eating lions. Enculturation includes instructions on when to feel disgust. But once you step outside yourself and you look at whatever the issue is from the perspective of whomever is most affected by it--in this case lions--culture is meaningless. Respect for the natural lives of others and wanting justice for them shouldn't be determined by an accident of birth and geography. Or even by a weak argument about near extinction.

"Creature Quotes" Is Here!

"Creature Quotes: Advancing Toward Freedom For All Species," compiled and edited by SBH Clay, is now available.

From the Introduction:

"Humans are fascinated by animals. . . . For all our devotion, though, we sometimes seem not to recognize the needs and wants of animals. We unwittingly partake of activities that hurt, physically and mentally, the very creatures we admire and seek to protect from harm (5)."

. . . .

"The open-to-change reader who receives the transforming message in the following pages may find himself challenging thoughts, language, habits, deeds--his own, his peers' and those of society at large (6)."

. . . .

"The reader of Creature Quotes has a choice. Not open to change, he can sit back comfortably and wait for peace among all beings to arrive in a future generation. Or, open to change, he can take the message in the ensuing pages to heart, let it shift his mind and stir his soul, and thus begin, right now, his advance toward freedom for all species (7)."

This compilation is particularly important for people who believe in God and whose advocacy has religion or faith or spirituality as a component. Every person who claims that there is some kind of divine mandate that makes us inherently not only superior to nonhuman animals but permitted to do with them as they please, should experience Creature Quotes.

I'm reminded of Amy Gutman's Introduction to J.M. Coetzee's The Lives of Animals (a must-read, as is the related work and Nobel Prize winner, Elizabeth Costello):

Costello's lectures within Coetzee's lectures therefore ask their audience to "open your heart and listen to what your heart says." Do animals have rights? Do human beings have duties toward them regardless of whether they have rights? What kind of souls do animals have? What kind do we have? Costello does not answer these questions in her lectures, because they are too philosophical for the immediate task at hand. They presume that the mind can lead the heart, a presumption that Elizabeth Costello's experience has led her to reject after a long life of trying to convince other people of her perspective on animals (4-5).

Yes, there is a lot of "mind" in Creature Quotes. But there is also a lot of heart. There is story. There is passion. There is pain. And we need all of these entry points. We need all of the help we can get.

On "The Road" and Humanity

Last night I watched 2009's "The Road" (based on the Cormac McCarthy novel, which I haven't read), a post-apocalyptic tale of a man and his son trying to survive. They're trying to get to the coast and then go south, where they think there might be more food and at least the winters won't be so brutal. Gangs of evil-doer survivors are marauding across the land, up to a particular kind of evil.

When the landscape is barren and there are few living creatures of any kind, people begin to lose their humanity. And that's when they start to do the unthinkable: eat other humans. What separates the good guys from the bad guys is that one point. And if you miss that point, the man and his son frequently speak of being the good guys, and when the boy needs to figure out if someone is good he asks: "Do you eat people?"

But the line that delineates good guys from bad guys goes deeper. Bad guys treat humans the way they'd treat animals. They hunt them down in "the wild." They corral them, lock them up, and take them out to kill, cook and eat them as needed. When one of the bad guys is killed the other bad guys will feast on his body. But no matter who dies or how, the good guys won't eat the corpse.