"The SeaWorld system is the best of all seaquaria in the world, but if I was an orca, that would be the last place I'd want to live." (former SeaWorld trainer Jeffrey Ventre)
On February 8, 2012, U.S. District Judge Jeffrey Miller ruled that five wild-captive orcas (Tilikum, Katina, Kasatka, Corky, Ulises) owned by SeaWorld and represented by PETA et al. had no standing to sue for protection under the 13th Amendment. Miller wrote: "As 'slavery' and 'involuntary servitude' are uniquely human activities, as those terms have been historically and contemporaneously applied, there is simply no basis to construe the Thirteenth Amendment as applying to non-humans."
While certainly true that 1864-65 Congress was thinking only of human beings when it passed the 13th Amendment, making Judge Miller's literal reading correct, it is equally true that mid-19th Century knowledge and appreciation of the animal mind was virtually nonexistent. So, an animal's interests needn't have been respected because, quite simply, he had no interests. Today, however, there is a burgeoning animal ethology field providing new insights across the species spectrum. Capacities and abilities once thought exclusively human are now regularly attached to other sentient beings. And the majestic cetaceans (orcas are cetaceans in the dolphin family) are head of the class.
Armed with this information, which was mostly unavailable when SeaWorld first opened in 1964, is it that difficult to imagine the psychological suffering of cetaceans in captivity? In "The Orca Project," two former SeaWorld trainers, Professor John Jett and Dr. Jeffrey Ventre, describe that suffering. In short, "...captivity kills orcas, usually at a young age... and... stresses, social tensions and poor health are chronic issues in marine park facilities."
It is no great leap to assert that at least some cetaceans, orcas among them, are more cognitively aware than some humans, including, but not necessarily limited to, the very young, the senile, and the mentally enfeebled. These humans are, of course, protected from being enslaved; indeed, they are the ones most in need of protection. Considered in this context, then, why should such a person, one decidedly unable to understand or participate in a court proceeding initiated in his behalf, be afforded legal recourse while an orca is not? "Because they are not us," which once informed our dealings with other races and ethnicities, makes a mockery of reason and justice.
Some believe that applying "slavery" to animals is demeaning to the memory of those human beings once held as property. But like those humans, each of the 48 killer whales in captivity has an intrinsic worth all her own, a nature to pursue. And no matter how well she is supposedly treated (remember, some slave-owners were called "benevolent"), her worth, her nature, is so utterly negated in "small, acoustically-dead, concrete enclosures." Relative intelligence aside, wild orcas are autonomous. And if owning and completely controlling an innately autonomous being does not define slavery, what does?
"But the greatest of all the prejudices we have retained from infancy is that of believing that brutes think." (Rene Descartes, 1649)
"When a Creature has given such convincing and undeniable Proofs of the Terrors upon him, and the Pains and Agonies he feels, is there a Follower of Descartes so inur’d to Blood, as not to refute, by his Commiseration, the Philosophy of that vain Reasoner?" (Bernard Mandeville, 1723)
Rene Descartes (1596-1650), "the father of modern philosophy," believed that humans have two components: body and mind. Most of what we do can be explained by unthinking responses, or "passions" to our environment. But animals, lacking mind, act and interact through passions only. They are, in short, organic "automata" (machines), "much more splendid than artificial ones," but machines nonetheless.
For Descartes, the immaterial mind is manifested by the use of creative language, and creatively using language is exclusive to humans. To be sure, animals communicate, but they are merely relaying instinctive desires (food, water) or demonstrating involuntary reactions (pain, excitement). In other words, they are conscious but not self-conscious. They cannot think and then convey, "Boy, this hurts" or "I wish they would stop doing this to me." And so, animal pain, because it is not true pain, is morally irrelevant. It simply does not matter. Rene Descartes had given man the sanction to brutalize with impunity.
Gary Francione (Introduction to Animal Rights): "Descartes and his followers performed experiments in which they nailed animals by their paws onto boards and cut them open to reveal their beating hearts. They burned, scalded, and mutilated animals in every conceivable manner. When the animals reacted as though they were suffering pain, Descartes dismissed the reaction as no different from the sound of a machine that was functioning improperly. A crying dog, Descartes maintained, is no different from a whining gear that needs oil."
360 years later, Rene Descartes still exerts influence. While the existence of animal pain is beyond reasonable debate, many still see that pain (suffering) as different from ours, and this, to some, justifies animal experimentation. Yet clearly, no two humans suffer in precisely the same way; I can never truly know what pain feels like to you. I can intuit by virtue of a similar anatomy - nociceptors, spinal cord, brain - but this anatomy is one we also share with animal test subjects; it's why we experiment on them in the first place. Because of his time and place, Descartes' ignorance (and cruelty) can (almost) be excused. Today, we know better. The machines feel. It's time we stopped hurting them.
“I stopped telling people what I did for a living. I was ashamed.” (Sammy Haddock, former elephant trainer for Ringling Bros.)
Sammy Haddock worked with circus elephants over a 30-year period, including time at Ringling’s Center for Elephant Conservation. Fulfilling a promise to his dying wife, a then-retired Haddock approached PETA (an unlikely pairing, for Haddock was a meateater/hunter) about exposing Ringling Bros. cruelty.
In August 2009, Haddock, who would die just a few months later, signed a notarized declaration that included these workplace pictures. Referring to one photo, Haddock said, “The baby elephant is slammed to the ground. See its mouth is wide open? It’s screaming bloody murder. It doesn’t have its mouth open for a carrot.” Feld Entertainment, Ringling’s parent company, did not reject the authenticity of the photos, just the interpretation. Said Gary Jacobson, the Center’s head trainer and Haddock’s former boss, “These are classic pictures of professional elephant-training. …This is the most humane way.”
The worst, for Haddock, was the “gut-wrenching” separation of mother and calf: “When pulling 18-24-month-old babies, the mother is chained against the wall by all four legs. Usually there’s 6 or 7 staff that go in to pull the baby rodeo style. …Some mothers scream more than others while watching their babies being roped. …Once they’re pulled from their mothers, they’ve tasted their last bit of freedom and the relationship with their mother ends.”
Before graduating from rope restraint, the calves must develop learned helplessness, a process that can take up to six months. They will spend 23 hours of their day restrained. Once inside the training tent, loud music is played to “drown out the baby’s screaming” and to ready them for the circus of the circus. According to Haddock, Ringling elephant training requires “brute force, electricity, and a savage disposition.” He added, “Raising a baby elephant at Ringling is like raising a kid in jail.”
As for the bullhook, which Ringling calls a “guide,” Haddock said, “[The bullhook] is designed for one purpose, and one purpose only, to inflict pain and punishment. I should know, I used to make them.” Hook and burn (from the occasional electric “hot shot”) marks, according to Haddock, were covered with mud for USDA inspections.
Haddock also confessed to his own cruelty. To retaliate for “Vance” knocking him unconscious: “I burned out two hot shots and fried him for about ten minutes. He was screaming and regurgitating water.” And to teach “Major” a 15-minute lesson in obedience: “I laid him down and hooked him repeatedly in his ear canal. …Major was screaming bloody murder.”
Finally, “During the course of my career, I’ve seen elephants being beaten who have no idea why they are being beaten or what is expected of them. They will start randomly lifting one leg, then another and another, lifting their trunk, hoping some trick will satisfy the trainer and make the beating stop.” All done to one of the most intelligent species on the planet. How profoundly sad.
On May 3, 2007, 11-year-old Jamison Stone pumped nine bullets into a half ton pig at the Lost Creek Plantation in Alabama, a 150-acre secured hunting ground. Because of the pig’s enormous size and the child-hunter’s skill deficiency, it took three hours (with a .50-caliber handgun) to bring the bloodied animal down. The hunt was arranged by Mike Stone, Jamison’s father, and the two owners of Southeastern Trophy Hunters. Lost Creek’s Eddy Borden had placed ads hyping the massive “wild boar” roaming the wilds of his property and charged Stone $1,500 for the pleasure of hunting it down. But it was all a great big lie.
The pig was actually a fully domesticated animal named Fred. Phil Blissitt, Fred’s owner, had sold him to Borden for $250 just four days prior. Blissitt would subsequently describe Fred as a gentle, trusting creature who enjoyed playing with the grandchildren, spending time with the family chihuahua, and eating canned sweet potatoes. But that trust was unforgivably betrayed and done so without a hint of remorse: The Blissitts, who bought Fred as a six-week-old piglet in ’04, only objected to the purported record size of the “monster pig” and the allegedly doctored photo, not to his final fate.
A grand jury convened to investigate possible animal cruelty charges, but the DA would eventually drop the case. Still, the question remained: With Fred slowly bleeding to death, why didn’t the three experienced hunters shoot and end the misery? Only after facts came to light did Stone say, “I regret that it didn’t die the first shot.” But it was actually a deliberate decision by Stone so that he could market his 11-year-old beast-slayer, website included. So Fred suffered. Pathologist Dr. Melinda Merck said (Rhonda Shearer): “Based on the lack of a conclusive kill shot and the prolonged time to die, the cause of death is most likely shock and exsanguinations primarily from the injuries to the abdominal organs.” And surgeon Dr. Li-Horng Lee said that the wounds “would have caused extreme pain and anxiety for a prolonged period of time.”
In December 2003, Vice President Dick Cheney, proud recipient of five draft deferments during the Vietnam War, led a group of nine wealthy friends to the exclusive Rolling Rock Club in Pennsylvania. They were there to participate in their own timeless story of man vs. nature. Nature, here, was represented by 500 tame, fattened pheasants who were released from nets and subsequently mowed down. Over 400 died, and after lunch, the mallards would get theirs.
With an estimated 1,000 preserves and ranches strewn across the land, canned (or trophy) hunting is big business. These ranches often offer “no kill, no pay” guarantees because, of course, the hopelessly trapped animals will eventually be killed. On the larger ones, guides will drive hunters to feeding areas or bait stations, apparently done to capture the feel of an African safari. Supply is manipulated to meet hunter demand, with targets either intentionally-bred on the ranch or purchased from animal dealers. These animals, being somewhat trusting of humans, make for far easier marks. As the goal is a trophy mount, non-vitals like the head and chest are avoided, resulting in slower, more painful deaths.
There is no federal law or regulatory agency addressing the industry, and restrictions, if any, vary from state-to-state. NY only stipulates that the grounds cover at least 10 acres and generously excludes the use of endangered animals. In the end, though, your most fantastic hunting desires are limited only by disposable income. It is, in fact, hunting for dummies.
“We are on our way to becoming a nation of wimps. It’s just a frog, for crying out loud.” (Virginia State Senator Richard Saslaw, 2004)
It has been said that smell is the sense most correlated with memory. For me, formaldehyde brings me back to Mr. Fiero’s 10th grade biology class. It was there, in his laboratory classroom, that my partner and I dissected a fetal pig. What I remember most from the experience is how much I didn’t want to do it, an option, sadly, not available in 1980.
Mr. Fiero kept a boa constrictor in a glass cage and would occasionally feed him live rodents as part of our education (although he did graciously allow us to look away with impunity). This “lifecycle moment” did not appear to upset too many of my classmates, but when Shadow, the hobbled domestic rabbit, disappeared one weekend as the giant snake’s latest meal (the bulge was immense), a palpable sadness pervaded the classroom. Looking back, this illustrates our uneven morality on animals. The prey mice were entertainment for many of my friends. The pet rabbit, accorded favored status, was mourned upon his untimely demise. As for the dissection, I remember having some nebulous notion of an unfortunate porcine miscarriage; I didn’t consciously associate our subject with a deliberate death.
Dissection has been a part of biology class since the 1920′s, but in 1987, a brave 15-year-old Californian named Jennifer Graham refused to dissect an animal and sued her school district. She argued for a comparable academic option. A year later, California would grant that right to all high school students (nine other states, including NY, have followed). Today, we have sophisticated models and, better yet, computer programs capable of detailed virtual dissections.
Pathologist Dr. Nancy Harrison: “As a doctor who performs autopsies, I can assure students that computer images of well-preserved tissues look more like the “real thing” than the squishy gray organs of a formalin-fixed specimen.”
Biologist Dr. Jonathan Balcombe: “Studies show that nonanimal methods teach concepts in biology and anatomy just as well or better than animal dissection.”
Classroom dissection is big business, and Carolina Biological is the industry leader. Its website, complete with shopping cart, offers a wide variety of products, including skinned cats. To be fair, they also sell virtual kits, but since animals used for dissection must be replaced each term, Carolina much prefers the “flesh” option. The company is also deliberately inexact about its sources: “…some from cultures, some from natural or managed habitats where seasonal collections are made, and many from the food industry [fetal pigs and cow eyes extracted at the slaughterhouse].”
The Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine writes: “An investigation of Carolina Biological Supply Company (CBSC)…found cats arriving in crowded cages, being poked with metal hooks, and finally being sent into gas chambers (some giving birth or making sounds after the gassing, indicating they were not yet dead). In 1991, the U.S. Department of Agriculture charged the CBSC with 10 violations of the Animal Welfare Act, including one charge of embalming cats who were still alive. When they are 'prepared' for dissection, frogs are usually dropped in a water-and-alcohol solution, which can take up to 20 minutes to cause death.”
In the end, the irony is patent: Some still insist on teaching biology, the study of life, through destruction of life. We are hardly as enlightened as we think.
“We have enslaved the rest of the animal creation, and have treated our distant cousins in fur and feathers so badly that beyond doubt, if they were able to formulate a religion, they would depict the Devil in human form.” (William Ralph Inge, Anglican priest and Cambridge professor, 1860-1954)
Because it’s more efficient (and, ironically, modern sensibilities trend against “cruel” trapping), roughly 70%-80% of the world’s fur comes from “farms” or “ranches.” This is fur (and yes, they are graphic)…
China is the world’s largest exporter of finished fur products. When threatened with a boycott of its 2008 Olympics, a spokesman for the Chinese Ambassador to London rather poignantly said, “…the fur trade mostly feeds markets in the US and Europe. Most of this fur is not for the Chinese market. So the Americans and Europeans should accept the blame. We have no plans to clamp down on this internally that I am aware of – it is for the US and Europeans to take their own action. They should boycott fur as a fashion material.”
Marketing one of the more abhorrent products on the planet requires Goebbels-like deftness, and no one does it better than the Fur Commission USA. Calling furbearers “renewable resources” (like the plant cotton) and themselves protectors (from the big, bad predators who would otherwise rend the helpless furballs), the fur people stoop to an almost unrivaled level of depravity, including coloring books and field trips.
“In the wild, most young mink don’t survive through the first year. In contrast, a farmer’s care ensures that almost all domesticated mink live until the end of the year, when they are harvested.” The mink are indulged with “good nutrition, comfortable housing and prompt veterinary care.”
Even in fur’s sanitized version, at least some truth remains irrepressible. In clean, sterile Nova Scotia, the farm’s host can’t help but refer to the endgame as euthanasia – the mobile carbon monoxide-filled “harvest box” “should [knock the mink] unconscious” and “will euthanzie them fairly humanely and quickly.” “Should” and “fairly.” But if indeed this is humane release from suffering, mercy killing, euthanasia defined, then the prosecution, as it were, can rest: Fur is cruel.
Bullfighting, the sport; bullfighting, the artform; bullfighting, the show:
Amid palpable excitement, the players parade into the arena, replete with ceremonial music and traditional garb. First, the matador (translated: killer) and his assistants – banderilleros – will test the bull’s “athleticism” as he makes several passes at the cape. A mounted picador will then thrust a lance into the bull’s neck; this sheds the first blood, weakening the adversary. The banderilleros will then pierce the bull with barbed sticks to prep him for the final act. At this point, the bleeding bull will have difficulty holding his head aloft; he is hurt, desperate, and confused, which, of course, facilitates the endgame.
The “tercio de muerte” begins with the unaccompanied matador re-emerging, carrying only his red cape and sword. The great toreros, being showmen first, incite several more passes from the wounded bull before proceeding to the crescendo: A sword plunged between the shoulder blades to the heart. Death, hopefully. But, as they are waging battle with a half-ton animal, their aim may be amiss – sometimes a lung is punctured, drowning the bull in his own blood – and the spinal cord must be severed with a knife. The brave and dashing slayer will then absorb the wild applause. A particularly satisfied audience will petition for an ear or two as a reward – done in full view. Pictorial account here.
Michael Kimmelman (“Bullfighting Is Dead! Long Live the Bullfight!”), NY Timesart critic – yes, art critic – wrote of a show featuring bullfighting’s greatest artist, the larger-than-life Jose Tomas. On this day, Tomas’ first muse was treated thus: “Tomás finally thrust his sword between the bull’s shoulders, stopping his banderilleros from trying to exhaust the dying animal further. The matador waited, watching, as the bull first kneeled, then, like a demolished building, crumbled. People threw flowers, their seat cushions and stuffed animals while horses dragged the carcass away and Tomás, looking pleased with himself, took a triumphant lap around the ring.”
The sequel, alas, bombed. This bloodied bull became lethargic early. Tomas’ banderilleros tried pulling his tail, but he kept falling. Then, in a ghastly theatrical fashion, and “almost like a hypnotist, Tomás got the crippled, staggering animal to rise to his bait, and matador and bull managed a series of hair-raising, heartbreaking passes.” But: “The kill was appalling. After Tomás got the sword in, having bungled his first try, an assistant stabbed the fallen, struggling animal 11 times in the base of the head with his dagger before finally polishing him off by severing the spinal column. It was sickening. The crowd, displeased, counted each thrust, tauntingly. José Tomás walked off, shamed and distraught.”
