Monthly Archive for July, 2008

When animals attack.

Published
by
Alex
on July 31, 2008
in Thinking
. 2 Comments

Down in Louisiana there were three children swimming in a pond known - known - to be populated by alligators. One of the children was attacked by a large alligator. The boy was able to free himself from the animal; however, his arm was taken. You can predict what happened next: The alligator was hunted down by fish and wildlife employees, killed and cut open to retrieve the boys arm. The boy is currently in critical condition. According to recent reports, doctors were unable to re-attach the arm. 

What should we think about this situation? I certainly don’t want to give the impression that I am cold to the boys suffering. I am not. Whenever nature causes pain it’s always tragic. But it is, in fact, nature causing the pain isn’t it. Nature is amoral; it cannot be judged “right or wrong.” To label an avalanche “evil” is to make the concept meaningless. There is no intent or reason that animates nature; it just is. A storm doesn’t decide to do what it does. The same is pretty much true (to the best of our understanding) of nonhuman animals, such as the alligator.

He (the gator) did not do anything wrong. He simply acted in accordance with his nature. It seems unreasonable to apply an ethical test here. To do so would mean that statements such as “Your natural aggression ought to be tempered by moral reasoning” would be relevant in the case of nonhuman animals, which, like in the case of some mentally challenged humans and all infants, is erroneous. Therefore, again, the alligator did not do anything wrong.

This necessarily raises a question about the actions taken in response to this attack. Is it ethical to take the animals life from him? If the issue is the recovery of the boys arm, isn’t there another method that doesn’t involve ending this animals chance at happiness? If there exists an alleged threat from this alligator, isn’t relocation a more ethically defensible option? (This isn’t ”Jaws”.) These are legitimate questions that ought to be raised in so-called civilized societies, but they are never asked for some reason. (A prejudice perhaps?) The gator was a ferocious monster, therefore, whatever means are available - not necessary, but available - the arm was going to be retrieved.

Upon some reflection, who is the true monster here, the animal necessarily acting out of pure instinct, or the human beings capable of moral reasoning who decide instead to act blindly (morally speaking), as though it was from instinct? I hope the boy survives and lives well. He should never forget, however, what resulted from his little swim in the alligator’s home: his suffering and the unnecessary death of this feeling being.

Will be crossposted @ Vegan Soapbox 

It’s not euthanasia!

Published
by
Alex
on July 30, 2008
in Reading
. 2 Comments

Euthanasia is when one brings about the death of another person because it’s believed that the latter’s present existence is so bad that she would be better off dead, or believes that unless someone intervenes and ends her life, it will become so bad that she would be better off dead.

The motive of the person who commits an act of euthanasia is to benefit the one whose death is brought about. The individual who is suffering has an exceedingly poor quality of life, for example, and is, therefore, the direct object of concern. I repeat: The interests of the person being euthanized are the impetus for the act, as opposed to economic motives or mere convenience.

Thanks go out to Creature Talk for finding the following essay:

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was “bad,” you’d shake your finger at me and ask “How could you?” ­ but then you’d relent, and roll me over for a bellyrub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because “ice cream is bad for dogs,” you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a “dog person” ­ still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a “prisoner of love.”

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch ­ because your touch was now so infrequent ­ and I would have defended them with my life if need be.

I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered “yes” and changed the subject. I had gone from being “your dog” to “just a dog,” and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You’ve made the right decision for your “family,” but there was a time when I was your only family. I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said “I know you will find a good home for her.” They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with “papers.” You had to pry your son’s fingers loose from my collar as he screamed “No, Daddy! Please don’t let them take my dog!” And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.

After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked “How could you?”

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you ­ that you had changed your mind ­ that this was all a bad dream…or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured “How could you?”

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said “I’m so sorry.” She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn’t be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself ­ a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my “How could you?” was not directed at her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.

May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

The End

Jim Willis 2001

This is not euthanasia; it’s killing out of convenience. Our species’ efforts to collapse these two distinct actions into a unified concept in our dealings with animals are pathetic. We try to make ourselves feel better about doing something we know, intuitively, is plain wrong. Stop lying about what we’re doing. Don’t confuse the language. Indeed, we have misused this term so frequently that it has lost its meaning entirely.

Similar actions are (and ought to be) illegal in the case of human beings. They’re also immoral. Likewise in the case of our companion animals and all those other nonhumans we kill because it’s more convenient than allowing them to breathe and experience this world.

Will be crossposted @ Vegan Soapbox   

Abused dog rescued by a “terrorist”

Published
by
Alex
on July 29, 2008
in Reading
. 2 Comments

Green Is The New Red:

As both the US and UK governments (and many others) are cracking down on animal rights and environmental activists, labeling them as terrorists and hitting them with outrageous prison sentences, supporters say it is for a few reasons. First, they say that these activists are national security threats. Second, they say that this boot-on-the-throat approach will deter future illegal activity by underground, “eco-terrorist” groups like the Animal Liberation Front.

But here’s a recent example of how this “Green Scare” plays out in real life.

A UK activist named Sarah Whitehead was just sentenced to 2 years in prison for rescuing a beagle from an abusive home. That’s right, two years. Neighbors had filed complaints with the police and the RSPCA, to no avail. When Whitehead rescued the dog, cops pounced surprisingly quickly: it turns out Whitehead, like many activists, was already under police surveillance. So has this use of police resources, to crack down on a woman rescuing an abused dog, deterred illegal activity by “eco-terrorist” groups like the Animal Liberation Front?

Far from it.

In response to Whiteheads sentence, animal liberationists rescued 50 turkeys from an Eastern factory farm.

Will Potter writes,

“But lets stop for a moment so we can truly appreciate the absurdity of this situation. This is what the global “War on Terrorism” has become: an “animal rights terrorist” sentenced to two years in prison for rescuing a dog, and the method of retaliation chosen by the “terrorists” is… saving more lives.”

Sarah was already on a suspended sentence for rescuing several hundred animals from a notorious puppy farmer in West Sussex, which authorities argue accounts for the severity of this punishment  

Reports say that the dog was living outside in a wooden cage, and was muzzled at all times except for when he got to eat. The dog was made to wear an electric shock collar and the neighbors informed Sarah that they had witnessed beatings. The neighbors had also heard the dog screaming on many occasions. The RSPCA had been called numerous times, but they failed to help this dog and left him with his people who had on occasion tied him to a radiator.

What would you do if you saw this animal suffering? If you saw (and heard) this helpless animal being tortured with no help from those charged to provide aid and support in these situations? 

She’s a “terrorist” because she acted. So it goes.   

Thanks go out to Vegan Soapbox

Good ol’ “canine racism.”

Published
by
Alex
on July 27, 2008
in Random and Thinking
. 3 Comments

Breedism:

“Breedism is analogous to racism,” Bernard E. Rollin writes, “in that all dogs of a certain breed are tarred with the same brush, as “killers.” Just as racists see all members of a given race as instantiating the same negative traits, breedism sees all dogs of a given breed as identically a menace to society, despite the fact that animal behaviorists know full well that a given dog may differ markedly from a given stereotype.”

This “canine racism” is illustrated in the following conversation I had recently with an individual in the management office of an apartment building. (Yes, this is truly an accurate reflection of the conversation. I couldn’t help myself, and although I don’t have a dog currently, I pretended for effect.)

Alex: “Do you allow dogs in your apartment building?”

Breedist: “It depends on the dog.”

Alex: “How so?”

Breedist: “It can’t be one of those aggressive, vicious types. What kind is it?”

Alex: “Well he is a mutt. I don’t believe he has any Chihuahua in him. The meanest dogs I’ve

         known are Chihuahua’s.”

Breedist: “Well, I don’t mean like small dogs; I mean the vicious kind.”

Alex: “Right, you already said that. And as I said, he certainly doesn’t have any Chihuahua in

         him - most Chihuahua’s I know have a touch of “little-man” complex, and can be quite

         defensive. Just look at the “Dog Whisperer,” right; lot’s of people fear them. I do know

         two very friendly Chihuahua’s, however. Perhaps I am misunderstanding your question?

         Have you already decided what make’s for a vicious dog?”

Breedist: “Well, I’m talking about certain breeds that make people feel uncomfortable.”

Alex: “Oh, I understand. You mean like Pit Bulls and Dobermans. You’ve had a lot of

         experience with aggressive Dobermans in the building have you? Been mauled yourself,

         I’m assuming? I mean how else could you damn the whole group?”

Breedist: “No, I’ve never been attacked.”

Alex: “But surely someone’s been bitten or something in the building, or else why couldn’t I

         be a tenant living with a Pit Bull whom I love? Quite irrational if you think about it.”

Breedist: “There’s just a negative impression out there about certain breeds, and…the policy

              of the building reflects it. We just don’t want any attacks…”

Alex: “A preconceived ‘negative impression’ about an entire group? I think that’s called a

        prejudice. Well, nothing to fear, he is certainly not one of those aggressive, vicious

        types. Although perhaps you should re-think your policy about Chihuahuas. There’s just

        something about them as a group that I don’t like.”

According to Rollin, this “social stupidity” is derived from our failure to understand each individual animal, which necessarily results in our inability to stimulate them effectively or provide outlets for their natural propensities, to institute certain limits to their conduct, to structure their activity, etc.

We must better understand our dogs as individuals and respect this individuality. Indeed, there may be natural proclivities (instinct to protect his/her person, for example); however, our failures become “manifest,” as Rollin so succinctly states it, when we make baseless assumptions about breeds - when we collapse all dogs into groups and thereby negate individual differences.

Our actions magnify instinct, which in turn can develop into problems. (The same is true of humans; let’s never forget that.) Punish the human, maybe the deed, but not the breed.  

If you think about it, it’s no different then saying ”All blacks, by their nature, commit crime; therefore I don’t want them in the building.” I use to say ridiculous things about Pit Bulls, half in jest but with a lot of sincerity also. I was wrong, and so is our society.  

Simone De Beauvoir wrote, “One is not born, but becomes a woman.” Cultures have elaborated on biological differences to reinforce patriarchy, therefore feminist thinkers, such as de Beauvoir, question assumptions about “natural femininity.” We must do likewise to counter these preconceptions about certain breeds. Presuming knowledge without sufficient evidence, experience or reason leads to erroneous conclusions. It’s illogical and just wrong.   

One is not born, but becomes an aggressive, vicious dog. As de Beauvoir argued, biology isn’t destiny.

Will be crossposted @ Vegan Soapbox 

Rep. Hunter’s brilliant idea.

Published
by
Alex
on July 25, 2008
in Random and Reading
. 4 Comments

From Think Progress

Rep. Duncan Hunter’s (R-CA) staff recently contacted the U.S. embassy in Chad to see whether he could visit the country and distribute food at a refugee camp. He said he wanted to hunt wildebeest and then distribute the meat to the refugees. The embassy, however, wasn’t too happy with this idea - especially because there are no wildebeest in Chad: 

  • [The Embassy welcomes] Congressman Hunter’s interest in food assistance to Darfur refugees in Chad. Given the significant quantities of U.S. food aid programmed for distribution to these refugees through the World Food Program (WFP), Embassy Ndjamena would encourage the Congressman to time his visit to coincide with an already scheduled food distribution. Embassy Ndjamena can make the necessary arrangements for the Congressman to observe a WFP food distribution, which will include U.S. food aid, in one of the refugee camps.

Nope! Not as fun.   

In light of this, Duncan Hunter would very much like to go hunt wildebeest in Kenya and then donate their dead bodies to refugee camps in Chad.

Why hunting? Is orphaning a baby wildebeest truly an answer to global hunger? This ridiculous argument is only made more amusing because of the seriousness with which Mr. Hunter espouses it.   

The fact that wildebeest aren’t native to Chad merely makes Mr. Hunter sound stupid, but I digress.

Oh yes, it appears that wildebeest are currently more endangered than usual. Due to political unrest in Kenya, 

“[The wildebeest] annual migration is under threat from poachers. “When the animals come into Kenya there is this big influx of poachers,” says Brian Heath, CEO of the Mara Conservancy that manages animal protection in the border regions of the park. “Unless we control it we are in danger of the number of animals being poached not being able to sustain the population.”

I ask Mr. Hunter this, why do you hate wildebeest so much that you want them to go extinct? What did they ever do to you? I know its fun to kill - power make’s me excited down there too. (Oops!)    

Here’s a better idea:

“[Mr. Hunter] could be really useful by advocating in Congress policies that provide meaningful economic development support and trade incentives to Kenyans and other Africans, and policies that provide more financial support to refugees and increase options for refugee resettlement.”

Of course we could make sensible use of current feed staples such as corn or soy. Imagine the excess plant protein and calories that would be made available to the world community if that 15 pounds of feed being funneled through a hog to produce a single edible pound of flesh as I write this was instead distributed to three, four, five starving individual men, women and children. By aggregating this gluttonous excess and waste, the possibilities are endless.

But the idea being suggested by a Representative of the United States of America is let’s round-up a few carcasses.