Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Rights

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Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Rights

Postby American Dream » Wed Apr 07, 2010 8:18 am

http://dissidentvoice.org/2010/04/symbi ... eration-2/

Symbiotic Liberation
Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Rights (and Vice Versa)


by Scott Noble / April 6th, 2010



Let us give Nature a chance; she knows her business better than we do.

– Michel de Montaigne


There is a scene in Louie Psihoyos’ film The Cove where a dolphin looks at itself in a mirror. It doesn’t ignore the image, look past it or mistake it for another dolphin. It performs a serious of maneuvers, swimming upside down, righting itself, gyrating this way and that. It looks into its own eyes. It is a conscious being.

In case you missed it, The Cove is a documentary exploring the plight of dolphins in captivity, as well as the annual dolphin slaughter in the Japanese village of Taiji. Among the more interesting facts exposed by the filmmakers: prior to the slaughter, dolphin “trainers” select the best specimens (driven into pens by a wall of ships using acoustic devices) to be imprisoned in “dolphinariums” across the globe. It establishes a direct link between dolphins in captivity – a multi-billion dollar industry – and the horrific butchery at Taiji.

Sea World and other “respectable” aquariums have apparently stopped acquiring dolphins via capture, choosing to breed the animals instead. “Breed” is a euphemism, and I don’t mean sex. Online videos reveal the grotesque spectacle of Sea World trainers masturbating sedated orcas and collecting the semen in plastic bags.

Whether kidnapped or bred, The Cove makes a compelling case that for dolphins and other cetaceans, captivity amounts to torture. One can extrapolate this to most wild animals in captivity, with varying degrees of evidentiary support.

Scientists now argue that the intelligence of dolphins may rival or even surpass our own.

In the wild, dolphins live in highly evolved and complex social structures bearing unique cultures, languages and interpersonal relationships. They swim vast distances in a single day. They have sex for pleasure. They play practical jokes on other species. They comfort one another. Like humans, they have been known to engage in what we call atrocities (albeit on a much, much smaller scale) including infanticide, rape, and cannibalism. Also like humans, dolphins have been known to come to the rescue of other species in peril – in their case, us.

Their primary means of navigating the world is sound.

Quite obviously, being locked in what amounts to a bathtub, bombarded with noisy music and boisterous crowds, denied their traditional social structures and relationships, and forced to “perform” in exchange for dead food is not a healthy or “humane” living environment for the ocean’s most intelligent creature. Nor is this really open to debate. We now know that dolphins in captivity (including orcas or “Killer Whales”) develop symptoms akin to neurosis. In an average seven year time span, half of all captive dolphins perish. Causes include pneumonia, intestinal disease, chlorine poisoning, and a variety of stress-related illnesses.

Like caged parrots tearing out their feathers, captive dolphins frequently abuse themselves by banging their heads against the walls of their tanks.

For spectators, the willingness to patronize organizations like Sea World can be attributed to ignorance. “The dolphin’s smile”, says former dolphin trainer turned activist Ric O’Barry in The Cove, “is nature’s greatest deception”. It is highly unlikely that even a small percentage of Sea World customers understand that these beloved aquatic performers are living in a state of profound distress. One cannot say the same of the “trainers” and other professionals.

Jason Hribal, author of the forthcoming book Fear of the Animal Planet: The Hidden History of Animal Resistance, exposes the disturbing history of orcas in captivity. While orca whales do not knowingly attack human beings in the wild (and have never killed one of us, so far as we know) they frequently do so under our “care”. Incidents range from orcas leaping out of the water and slapping human beings in the head with their pectoral fins, to orcas violently dragging trainers around their pools and submerging them under water until they drown. The history reveals an unmistakable pattern of calculated aggression. In an article published in Counterpunch, Hribal outlines one incident involving an orca in San Antonio:

The orca jumped on top of his trainer and repeatedly pushed the man underwater. Sea World, afterwards, tried to pass the incident off as rough play, saying that at no time was the trainer in danger. Witnesses did not buy it. As one of them explained, ‘the whale was staying between the [exit] ramp and the trainer and finally the trainer jumped on top of the whale’s back and leaped over him and another trainer caught him.’ At that point, ‘the whale turned around and slammed down on the ramp and he was pretty upset that the trainer got out of the pool.’

And another:

We do not know which orca it was that started it, but all three, Nootka, Haida, and Tilikum, took their turns dunking the screaming woman underwater. ‘She went up and down three times,’ another visitor continued. The Sealand employees ‘almost got her once with the hook pole, but they couldn’t because the whales were moving so fast.’ One trainer tossed out a floatation ring, but the whales would not let her grab it. In fact, the closer that such devices got to the young woman, the further out the whales pulled her into the pool. It took park officials two hours to recover her drowned body.’

Dozens of such incidents have slipped through Sea World’s carefully manufactured PR wall (including numerous attacks by “smiling” or bottlenose dolphins). Hundreds if not thousands are likely to have occurred behind the scenes. In all likelihood these are not “playful” mistakes but expressions of pent up rage. For some reason, we have no problem with the idea that a tiger might lash out in anger at a Siegfried or Roy, but recoil at the suggestion that orcas might do something similar to the perky slave-masters at Sea World.

Why don’t they bite us in half or swallow us whole? Luckily enough, human beings have never been on the orca’s menu. Their failure to react with frequent and extreme violence is far more likely to be a sign of intelligence than lack thereof.

The sole remaining justification for places like Sea World is that they serve a vital educational role. I’m a good case study in establishing the absurdity of this claim.

I was taken to the Vancouver Aquarium several times as a boy, where several orcas were held captive (a few belugas remain). I remember being dumbstruck at their awesome power, but don’t recall really appreciating them as a species until I encountered them in the wild or watched a documentary video (I can’t remember which came first).

As a teenager, I was lucky enough to have occasional access to beachfront property on Saturna Island in British Colombia. The first time I encountered wild orcas was in a tiny fishing boat about the size of a bathtub. As the pod approached, my father turned off the motor and told me to reel up my line. He informed me that “killer whales” do not attack humans. He also expressed displeasure at the “whale watching” boat traveling about twenty feet behind the pod. I would like to tell you I was the picture of valor during this encounter, but the truth is that I was scared shitless.

It is difficult to communicate the sensation of sitting in a tiny boat in the middle of a dozen or so ten-ton animals with jaws the size of Volkswagen bugs. Orcas attack everything from polar bears to great white sharks to whales ten times their size. Moose have been found in their stomachs. They are the apex predator of their environment. To a puny little human, they can be very frightening indeed. Wildlife filmmaker Martha Holmes (of BBC Blue Planet fame) had this to say on the subject:

Two words describe my first encounter with killer whales in the wild: absolutely terrifying.

Yet a strange thing happened that day, sitting in my little fishing boat: as they began gliding gracefully by, not even nudging us, my fear was replaced with respect.

I’ve seen orca pods on about 20 different occasions, one while snorkeling. Each incident was exhilarating in its own way. I eventually became so comfortable around the animals that when a pod swam by, I’d row out to meet them. Foolish? Probably. But they never once rocked my boat.

Seeing orcas in nature imbues you with a deep appreciation for the animal – not least because they don’t make mince meat of you. The same appreciation can be taught from a good documentary, article or book. Sea World teaches the opposite lessons. It teaches us that it’s acceptable to take the ocean’s apex predator, confine it to a virtual swimming pool and force it to perform stupid tricks for our passable amusement. It’s degrading for both species. In the end, it’s really not much different than forcing a bear to ride a unicycle while wearing a silly hat.

We heard the usual excuses in the wake of orca “trainer” Dawn Brancheau’s death at the hands of “Tilikum the killer whale” at Sea World. The animal was only “playing”, the trainer screwed up, it was a horrible “accident”. Eyewitness reports of the orca seizing her by the waist and violently thrashing her about were replaced by a story of Dawn’s ponytail “brushing Tilikum’s nose” and causing some sort of bizarre Orcoid reflex. Some suggested her hair became caught in the big dumb animal’s teeth, and that Tilikum was actually attempting to dislodge her from his massive jaw when tragedy ensued.

Other commentators argued that Tilikum was a “serial killer killer whale” (Dawn was the third victim). Call it the bad apple theory applied to marine biology. The American Family Association urged Sea World to put the animal to death. Quoting Exodus 21:28 (“When an ox gores a man or woman to death, the ox shall be stoned, and its flesh shall not be eaten, but the owner shall not be liable”), they dismissed out of hand the notion that the animal had any rights of its own.

At this point, one is tempted to argue that Tilikum the Killer Whale is, in all probability, more intelligent that the folks at the American Family Association. This is not meant in jest. Controversial anti-whaling activist Paul Watson (star of the highly popular Whale Wars on Animal Planet) notes in his article “Why Killing Whales is Murder”:

One difference that has been used for years to differentiate humans from all other animals is the presence of spindle neurons in the human brain. These specialized brain cells are thought to process emotion and are the cells behind feelings of love and grief. The spindle cells are located in the parts of the human brain linked with social organization, empathy, speech, and intuition.

Amazingly, a recent research project has revealed that these spindle cells reside in the same area of the brain in humpback whales, fin whales, orcas, and sperm whales as in humans. More importantly, they have existed in cetacean brains for much longer than humans have had them. Even more amazing is that proportionally these whales have three times as many of these spindle cells in their brains as humans have.

All this added to the fact that whale brains are larger, four-lobed compared to our three, and have more convolutions on the neo-cortex than humans and we are looking at the possibility of a sentient creature that has emotions, thinking abilities, self awareness, and is capable of intense suffering and grief.

‘Their potential for high-level brain function, clearly demonstrated already at the behavioural level, is confirmed by the existence of neuronal types once thought unique to humans and our closest relatives.’

[Professor] Hof added, ‘Dolphins communicate through huge song repertoires, recognize their own songs, and make up new ones. They also form coalitions to plan hunting strategies, teach these to younger individuals, and have evolved social networks similar to those of apes and humans.’


In a review of The Cove, a writer for the Japan times echoes a popular sentiment: “If dolphin killing is banned, why shouldn’t the slaughters of cows and pigs be banned as well?”

The analogy is not particularly helpful. Dolphins and whales are wild animals, and very few Japanese people eat them or are even aware of events like the annual slaughter at Taiji. A better comparison would be to ask: “What’s the difference between eating a chimp or a gorilla and eating a whale or dolphin?” Or: “What’s the difference between eating a lion or grizzly bear and eating a whale or dolphin?”

Because dolphins and whales (and sharks) are the apex predators of their environment, they are vitally important in maintaining the balance of the ocean’s ecosystems. They also take much longer to repopulate when they become endangered. The health of these animals is vital to the ocean’s health – and therefore human health – as a whole. Even in the absence of ethical considerations their slaughter is not only cruel and gratuitous but foolhardy in the extreme.

When we kill these animals we play with fire. As much as we like to pretend we have nature pretty much figured out, the truth is that we don’t know all that much about our own environments, let alone the ocean. Barely a day goes by in which some new discovery challenges previous assumptions or leaves experts perplexed. Recently, scientists discovered that blue whales are now singing in a richer, deeper tone. Why?

It’s a mystery said whale acoustic researcher Mark McDonald, co-author of a report on the recent findings. “It got to be really problematic when we started digging and hey, they’re going in the same direction all around the world yet they’re different song types.”

Biologists Hal Whitehead notes of the peculiar trend:

The exciting possibility, I think, is that they’re all listening to each other. This is a worldwide cultural phenomenon, and that’s very cool.

According to The Cove, the dolphin killers in Taiji are not motivated solely by the profit that dolphins – dead or alive – brings to their community. There is an element of misplaced nationalism at play, and there is also an element of equally misplaced inter-species competition. Many of the fishermen regard the slaughter as a form of “pest control”. Dolphins eat fish, ergo, they are our competitors.

Similar sentiments are often expressed by advocates of the barbaric seal slaughter in Canada. The seals are eating up all the cod, therefore their population needs to be kept in check. John Efford, former Canadian Minister of Natural Resources, spoke none too delicately of this widespread concern:

Mr. Speaker, I would like to see the 6 million seals, or whatever number is out there, killed and sold, or destroyed and burned. I do not care what happens to them…the more they kill the better, I will love it.

When critics point out that the East coast seal population was once five-to-ten times its current size, and that cod were nevertheless so plentiful that “the sea there is full of fish that can be taken not only with nets but with fishing-baskets, a stone being placed in the basket to sink it in the water” (John Cabot, 1497), seal hunt advocates use human mismanagement of fish stocks as further justification for the slaughter. Alas, we fucked it up so bad we have no choice but to continue driving spikes into the skulls of baby seals.

In reality, there is virtually no evidence that killing seals increases cod, and quite a bit of evidence to the contrary. There are at least twenty species of fish in the coastal waters of Newfoundland that prey on cod. The seals, in turn, prey upon the cod’s predators as well as the cod itself. Food webs are exceedingly complex, and cannot be reduced to a simple “human-seal-cod” or “human-dolphin-fish” dynamic. Clupeids have been identified as major predators of cod eggs and larvae in the Baltic. Guess who eats clupeids?

Strangely enough, there seems to be a good deal of online hostility toward The Cove. Some of the anger derives from people who feel the film treats Japanese people unfairly; in other cases it can be traced to a belief that animals should not have any sort of “rights”, and that suggesting as much is akin to religious blasphemy, cultural imperialism or anti-human bias.

Charges of “Japan bashing” have been leveled at the filmmakers. This is unfair, but also understandable. Regrettably, the film fails to mention the annual pilot whale slaughter in the Faroe Islands (Denmark) by European people. It also fails to mention the thousands of dolphins killed every year by driftnets. The Cove laudably establishes a link between the dolphin slaughter and the callous attitudes that allows the continuing degradation of the oceans, but where is mention that 50% of all seafood ends up in the food dishes of livestock living on factory farms? The second greatest predator of fish is not the seal, or the whale, or the shark – it is the pig.

There is no question, however, that Japan holds the current title for greatest defiler of our oceans. Since the 1931 Geneva Convention for the Regulation of Whaling, Japan has consistently ignored quotas, international boundaries and species protections. Currently, under the guise of “scientific research”, they butcher hundreds of whales in the wildly misnamed Antarctic whale sanctuary. Each killing is an atrocity in itself, with some whales taking up to an hour to perish. Explosive-tipped harpoons strike the first blow, followed by electrocution and prolonged drowning.

Recently, the Japanese government successfully lobbied against a proposed ban on the fishing of bluefin tuna by the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora. Bluefin are critically endangered, and will likely go extinct in the near future. One might expect, considering Japan’s voracious appetite for the prized fish, that they would have led the charge in ensuring its survival. But to suggest as much would be to overlook a far more important consideration than sushi: profit.

In Japan, a bluefin currently sells for about $100,000. The more endangered the fish becomes, the more expensive it is to buy, the more eager are fishermen to catch it. Ain’t capitalism grand?

When it comes to dolphins and whales, neither taste nor sustenance is at issue. The meat tastes like especially fatty spam, or so I’m told, and if killing dolphins may once have provided essential nourishment to the town of Taiji (this is also unlikely), it is no longer necessary. It is however profitable. A live dolphin can go for a cool one-hundred-fifty-thousand. Thus are our closest cousins in the ocean reduced to circus freaks and delicacies.

A group of scientists recently claimed that the dolphin is so intelligent that it should qualify as a “non-human person”.

The researchers argue that their work shows it is morally unacceptable to keep such intelligent animals in amusement parks or to kill them for food or by accident when fishing. Some 300,000 whales, dolphins and porpoises die in this way each year.

There are many assumptions at play here, the most glaring of which is the idea that human-defined “intelligence” should be the deciding factor in the way we treat other animals (rather than, say, the ability to feel pain). But let us run with the concept.

Religious fundamentalists, amongst others, are obviously not too keen on the prospect of dolphins being granted “personhood” status. Only humans have souls, so the theory goes, and to advocate otherwise is blasphemous. In fact, it’s a restriction on human “freedom”.

The reductionism of dolphin = any other animal is important in this respect. It maintains our position upon God’s special throne and keeps nature in its proper place – beneath our collective boot.

To be fair to the right-wing Christians and libertarians, it is not difficult to find misanthropic sentiments amongst some environmentalists. Often these remarks come from extremely wealthy individuals who would undoubtedly save the life of an endangered whale over the life of an endangered human living in poverty. Prince Philip expressed his desire to return to earth as a “deadly virus” in order to reduce the human population. Henry Kissinger once stated, “Depopulation should be the highest priority of U.S. foreign policy towards the Third World.” Dr. Eric R. Pianka argued in a speech at the Texas Academy of Science, “We’re no better than bacteria!” and said that the human population should be reduced by 90%.

Strangely absent in the work of “human cull” advocates is the work of Frances Moore Lappe. Debunking Malthus with a vengeance, her work reveals that “antidemocratic power structures create and perpetuate conditions keeping fertility high” and that “children are poor people’s source of power”:

In sum, convincing historical evidence suggests that when individuals and families are gaining power because their rights are protected – particularly the rights to education, medical care including contraception, old-age security, and access to income-producing resources – they no longer have to depend only on their own families for survival.

Thus are progressive social values such as equality and social justice inextricably wed to environmental protection. Paradoxically, it is not overpopulation that creates poverty; it is poverty that creates overpopulation. Eventually, you end up with a sort of vicious cycle in which one begets the other.

The failure of many environmentalists to link hierarchical, anti-democratic socio-economic structures with the pillaging of Mother Earth is perhaps the single greatest stumbling block to achieving real sustainability. It is far easier to recommend lifestyle changes (minimize your meat intake, use less toilet paper, recycle) than to recommend a radical restructuring of our political and economic systems. The problem with limiting our critique to lifestyle choices is that the system keeps on humming along regardless, fish after fish, tree after tree. Endless growth is the defining characteristic of our modern economies, and endless growth spells suicide.

In his advocacy of libertarian socialism or “participatory democracy”, Noam Chomsky spoke convincingly on the relationship between institutionalized hierarchy and environmental destruction:

The reality is that under capitalist conditions – meaning maximization of short-term gain – you’re ultimately going to destroy the environment: the only question is when. Now, for a long time, it’s been possible to pretend that the environment is an infinite source and an infinite sink. Neither is true obviously, and we’re now sort of approaching the point where you can’t keep playing the game too much longer. It may not be very far off. Well, dealing with that problem is going to require large-scale social changes of an almost unimaginable kind. For one thing, it’s going to certainly require large-scale social planning, and that means participatory social planning if it’s going to be all meaningful. It’s also going to require a general recognition among human beings that an economic system driven by greed is going to self-destruct – it’s only a question of time before you make the planet unlivable.

Agreements don’t require centralized authority, certain kinds of agreements do. One’s assumption, at least, is that decentralization of power will lead to decisions that reflect the interests of the entire population. The idea is that policies flowing from any kind of decision-making apparatus are going to tend to reflect the interests of the people involved in making the decisions—which certainly seems plausible. So if a decision is made by some centralized authority, it is going to represent the interests of the particular group which is in power. But if power is actually rooted in large parts of the population—if people can actually participate in social planning—then they will presumably do so in terms of their own interests, and you can expect the decisions to reflect those interests. Well, the interest of the general population is to preserve human life; the interest of corporation is to make profits—those are fundamentally different interests.

Having jobs doesn’t require destroying the environment which makes life possible. I mean, if you have participatory social planning, and people are trying to work things out in terms of their own interests, they are going to want to balance opportunities to work with quality of work, with the type of energy available, with conditions of personal interaction, with the need to make sure your children survive, and so on and so forth. But those are all considerations that simply don’t arise for corporate executives, they just are not a part of the agenda. In fact, if the C.E.O. of General Electric started making decisions on that basis, he’d be thrown out his job in three seconds, or maybe there’d be a corporate takeover or something – because those things are not a part of his job. His job is to raise profit and market share, not make sure that the environment survives, or that his workers lead decent lives. And those goals are simply in conflict.


We have reached the point where “save the humans” might be just as accurate a slogan for the environmental movement as “save the whales”.

Antibiotics used in factory farms are creating a breeding ground for “superbugs”; Avian influenza, swine flu and other viruses are emerging with alarming regularity; Monsanto’s genetically modified crops were recently linked to liver and kidney damage; a study of 291 freshwater streams by the US Geological Survey found that more than two-thirds of the fish contained unsafe mercury levels; pesticides used in industrial agriculture are killing off the honey bees (responsible for pollinating more than 90 million crops in the United States alone).

Chemical pollution is causing an explosion in cancer rates. Dr. Dominique Belpome, a French cancer specialist, charted a 35% rise between 1980 and 2000 among the same age groups in France. He argues that 70% of all cancers are of environmental origin. Cancer rates in Canada are growing twice as fast as the population.

Human beings are causing the greatest mass extinction since the disappearance of the dinosaurs 65 million years ago. According to a survey of 400 scientists, this “mass extinction event” is more dangerous to the survival of our species than “pollution, global warming and the thinning of the ozone layer.”

90% of the big fish in the ocean have disappeared. Again, according to scientists, “If the serial depletions continue unabated, major seafood stocks will collapse by 2048.” Seven out of ten human beings rely on seafood for their primary source of protein. If the oceans die – we die.

This isn’t a question of mere greed. Corporations are mandated by law to maximize profits regardless of social or environmental cost (see Dodge v. Ford). It should not be surprising, therefore, that overfishing has become the rule, any less that factory farming has emerged as the logical means by which we raise and slaughter livestock, or sweatshops the preferred method of producing commodities.

For warriors on the front lines – animal liberationists, sea shepherds, Earth Firsters – it is tempting to embrace a certain level of misanthropy. What kind of a dumb species spoils its own nest? And why should we care about the livelihood of fishermen or loggers when blue collar workers in countless other industries are being laid off by the hundreds of thousands due to “free trade” agreements, corporate downsizing and off-shoring of jobs?

I think it’s important to look at the bigger picture.

The reality is that so long as workers are living in a state of desperation, there will be more than enough bodies to dump toxic effluent from your friendly local factory farm into your once pristine waterways. So long as people can barely afford to eat, or are too busy working overtime to cook a good meal, McDonald’s and Burger King will persist in fattening up the populace. So long as dolphinariums make a killing, the killing of dolphins will continue.

I am sympathetic to people who scoff at “mainstream” or “liberal” environmentalists.

Most workers are too worried about their own horrific living conditions to consider the horrific living conditions of the former cow in their Big Mac. When a Bono or an Al Gore exit their private jets to lecture the plebs about sustainability, disgust is an entirely appropriate response. Many people, especially urbanites, cannot afford or do not have access to organic produce or meat from local farmers.

Ultimately, the worker/environment dichotomy is fallacious. It’s nothing more than a ruse designed by corporations to create hostility between workers and shield environmental pillage with the threat of unemployment. It suggests that the interests of animals/nature and man/sustenance/health are diametrically opposed. The opposite is true.

Real environmentalism recognizes the rights of human beings as well as the rights of dolphins. As much as we like to pretend otherwise, we are all, after all, part of the environment. This includes the “useless eaters” in the “third world” that eco-misanthropes like Prince Phillip would slaughter in the name of sustainability.

The Cove is important because it refuses to succumb to the either/or proposition. It links human health to animal health, and it also opens the door to an expanding awareness of the rights of animals in general.

If we can’t even extend human compassion to the most intelligent animal in the ocean – by all indications, a “non-human person” – then the prospects for doing so with other, allegedly “lesser” animals are bleak. This also applies to the human animal himself, who (let’s face it) should probably be placed on the endangered species list right alongside the bluefin tuna. It’s not just about saving other creatures, it’s about saving ourselves. From ourselves. At the very least, it’s about rescuing certain quaint notions about “humanity” which no longer seem justified – that we are capable of acting rationally, that we care about the fate of our grandchildren, and that short-term profit is not the sole impetus for our collective behavior.

The emerging consensus amongst scientists and environmentalists regarding our relationship with nature is not a leap forward but a leap backward. It represents a final, lasting recognition that indigenous peoples had it right after all. What Frederick Turner described as “The Western Spirit Against the Wilderness” – the urge to conquer rather than co-exist, exploit rather than liberate – was doomed to failure from the moment we started viewing mother nature as the enemy rather than the protector. The current, hollow speeches about green capitalism and sustainable development are the last gasps of a dying system.

Real, participatory democracy in both the political and economic realms will allow communities to act collectively and to consider factors other than short term profit. It is time for the mainstream environmental movement to recognize this fundamental correlation and act upon it. Save the whales. Save the humans.
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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby American Dream » Thu Feb 17, 2011 9:48 am

http://drstevebest.wordpress.com/2011/0 ... -autonomy/

Animal Agency: Resistance, Rebellion, and the Struggle for Autonomy
January 25, 2011


“In a war between humans and bears. I’d take the side of the bears.” John Muir, founder of the Sierra Club

by Steven Best, Ph.D

The most interesting front in the multifaceted war of position to influence the outcome of the future for the planet – in the most tempestuous and consequential struggles of the day involving the politics of nature — as it becomes ever-clearer to elephants, primates, and birds that human aggression and invasion has reached crisis proportion, awakening survival instincts and precipitating vengeance.

Giving this dynamic the sustained attention it merits, Jason Hribal’s essays and recent book, Fear of the Animal Planet: The Hidden History of Animal Resistance, chronicle acts of rebellion, defiance, resistance, and revolt within the animal kingdom against their human oppressors.[1] A systematic study of anecdotal reports, Hribal goes beyond the established facts of mental, emotional, and social complexity among animals to argue that they have agency. One finds numerous accounts of animal personhood and agency in the field of animal studies, but Hribal takes this disciple to task as well for its abstract and one-dimensional treatments that ignore the political dimension of animal action and the pervasive phenomena of resistance to oppression and slave rebellion.

In an earlier essay, “Animals, Agency and Class: Writing the History of Animals from Below,” Hribal describes the various forms of slavery nonhuman animals are subjected to, such as endured by urban transport animals:[2]

In the cities, the production situation was even more precarious. Animal-powered carts, wagons, carriages, cabs, street-cars, and omnibuses filled the streets of the 19th century … For urban horses and mules, it took two years to become properly trained for this type of work. For coachmen, it took three years. Shifts lasted on average eight to 14 hours per day. The work week ranged from six to seven days. As populations continued to grow, traffic and congestion increased. By the early 20th century, the number of horses and mules working in American cities stood at approximately 35 million — an increase of six-fold from the beginning of the previous century. There were more and more vehicles on the road. The intensity and volume of work continued to accrue — more emphasis on speed, more night-work, greater distances, more routes, fewer breaks, longer shifts, heavier loads, and more starts and stops.

In the 17-19th centuries, with the agricultural and urban exploitation of animals, humans could see domination of animals in its sordid tyranny and ubiquitous evil:

Over the course of the 17th, 18th, 19th, and early 20th century, an ever increasing number of animals were working. Humans witnessed this agency everyday. Some participated in it — as fellow laborers. Some profited from it — as farm, factory, or market owners. Few, if any, could ever avoid dealing with it. Oxen, bulls, cows, and goats were producing the leather industry. Sheep were producing the wool industry. Cows were the ones who produced the milk, cheese, and butter industries. Chickens produced the egg industry. Pigs and cattle produced the flesh industry. This was the labor of reproduction: feeding, clothing, and reproducing a continuously growing number of humans with their skin, hair, milk, eggs, and flesh.

On the agricultural farms, it was oxen, horses, mules, and donkeys, as well as the occasional cow, ewe, or large dog, which pulled and powered the plows, harrows, seed-drills, threshers, binders, presses, reapers, mowers, and harvesters. In the mines, they towed the gold, silver, iron-ore, lead, and coal. On the cotton plantations and in the spinning factories, they turned the mechanical mills that cleaned, pressed, carded, and spun the cotton. On the sugar plantations, they crushed and transported the cane. On the docks, roads, and canals, they moved the carts, wagons, and barges of mail, commodities, and people. In the cities, they powered the carriages, trams, buses, and ferries. On the battlefields, they deployed the artillery and supplies, they provided the reconnaissance, and they charged the lines. This was the labor of production: producing the power necessary to propel the instruments of capitalism. Indeed, the modern agricultural, industrial, commercial, and urban transformations were not just human enterprises.

The history of capitalist accumulation is so much more than a history of humanity. Who built America, the textbook asks? Animals did.[3]

As political agents, animals did not just labor and suffer mindlessly and helplessly, rather they frequently refused work and exploitation, at least past a given limit, and subsequent labor had to be negotiated in some way and to varying degrees. Increased production only meant increased resistance, especially notoriously stubborn and rebellion-prone animals such as donkeys. Hribal adds to an already rich account of animal resistance to human oppression, describing a wide range of animal resistance tactics from intentional sabotage and property destruction to revenge killing and popular violence.
[4]

Faking ignorance, rejection of commands, the slowdown, foot-dragging, no work without adequate food, refusal to work in the heat of the day, taking breaks without permission, rejection of overtime, vocal complaints, open pilfering, secret pilfering, rebuffing new tasks, false compliance, breaking equipment, escape, and direct confrontation, these are all actions of what the anthropologist James C. Scott has termed “weapons of the weak”…Hence, while rarely organized in their conception or performance, these actions were nevertheless quite active in their confrontation and occasionally successful in their desired effects. For our purposes, these everyday forms of resistance have not been historically limited to humankind — as each of the above listed methods have been used by other animals.

Donkeys have ignored commands. Mules have dragged their hooves. Oxen have refused to work. Horses have broken equipment. Chickens have pecked people’s hands. Cows have kicked farmers’ teeth out. Pigs have escaped their pens. Dogs have pilfered extra food. Sheep have jumped over fences. Furthermore, each of these acts of resistance has been fully recognized by the farmer, owner, driver, supervisor, or manager as just that: acts of resistance.

During the 1850s, the United States government introduced 75 camels into military service. Their primary duties were to provide transportation for equipment and human personnel. This was, however, a short-lived experiment. For the camels resisted. They refused to cooperate and obey orders. They were loudly vocal in their complaints. They spat upon their fellow soldiers. They bit their fellow soldiers. Their fellow soldiers learned to both hate and fear them …The U.S. army stopped employing camels, and the horse and mule returned to full service in these units. The camels, in truth, were the ones who made their labor an experiment. In other words, this was no experiment. The U.S. Army actively sought to turn camels into soldiers. They failed.[5]

Thousands of acts of resistance against human exploiters have been documented, involving a variety of responses to different kinds of danger and threat posed by humans. Not uncommonly, for instance, elephants and tigers turn against their trainers, suddenly snapping after years of abuse, tiring and degrading performance conditions, and discipline enforced through fear and punishment. On August 20, 1994, in Honolulu Hawaii, for instance, Tyke the elephant killed her trainer, bolted from the circus, ran frightened through the streets, and was murdered in a hail of police bullets. In October 3, 2003, during a Siegfried and Roy performance in Las Vegas, a white Bengal tiger, after being struck with a microphone for refusing to lie down, turned on Roy Horn and nearly mauled him to death. On December 25, 2007, enraged by the taunting of three visitors, Tatiana, a 243 pound Siberian tiger, jumped a 12 foot high wall at the San Francisco Zoo and attacked them, killing one.

On February 21, 1991, during the day’s final performance at Sealand of the Pacific aquarium in Victoria, British Columbia, three killer whales — Nootka, Haida, and Tilikum – were going through the motions of their usual routine. When a young female trainer mounted one whale’s back, “entertainment” turned to tragedy. The trainer fell into the water and tried to climb out, but one of the orcas grabbed her foot, pulled her underwater, and all three repeatedly dunked her, stopping only when she was dead. The aquarium insisted that the whales were playing a game and killed her unintentionally, but this is implausible given the coordinated efforts of the attack and their concerted efforts to keep her from grabbing a flotation ring thrown by another trainer to save her life, Nootka, moreover, had a prior history of attacking trainers, and Tilikum, after being transferred to San Diego’s Sea World, held in captivity and exploited for profit for 26 years, killed another trainer through forced drowning.[6]

Quite likely, these human deaths were not accidents caused by over exuberant orcas but rather revenge killings, and whale attacks on trainers are as common as elephant attacks on their circus handlers. While certainly elephants and whales are victims of sadistic cruelty at the hands of sick individuals, their very conditions of captivity, however “kind” their trainers and treatment, are inherently oppressive. Orcas never attack humans in the wild, only in captivity, only after being kidnapped from the wild; separated from their families; held in a sterile, narrow, concrete enclosure; and forced to perform up to 8 times a day, 365 times a year. The slow-burning anger that explodes into a deadly rage is protest against an institution not an individual, but only the latter die until the former is closed down, one prison at a time. The alienation, oppression, degradation, and misery animals experience in captivity is represented in stark and tactile form every time a monkey in a zoo throws feces at human gawkers. Like donkeys and mules, the slaves held in circuses, zoos, and aquariums, the guards and wardens of the “entertainment” gulag system are forced to negotiate with fractious and angry prisoners in order to extract their labor and box office profits.

Animals will also attack humans in retaliation for injury or death caused to a family or community member. In the Khamis Mushayt region of Saudi Arabia, a driver struck and killed a monkey, then fled, but didn’t get away. For on the return route, a group of monkeys who witnessed the killing recognized the car upon approach, jumped on top, and smashed the windows with their fists. A similar act of vengeance and vigilantism happened in the Penang Botanical Gardens near Kuala Lumpur, when a pack of 60 monkeys commenced attacks on joggers and tourists wearing yellow shirts, hoping to exact revenge on the youth in similar clad who the day before stoned to death one member of their community and taunted others.

Animals also rebel, riot, and attack in self-defense when humans colonize or encroach into their territory. Upset that humans had usurped their nesting grounds to build golf courses, ring-billed gulls bombarded a course in suburban Columbus, Ohio, forced shocked golfers off their turf, and reclaimed the grounds for nesting. Distraught over the intrusion of roads and traffic into their grounds, a troop of baboons fought back by pelting passing cars with a fusillade of rocks, along a liberated zone they defended from all the way from Cape Town to Johannesburg. On January 7, 1997, police engaged the baboon warriors in a battle of stones in a bid to drive them away. On February 21, 2003, after her calf was knocked down by a Bangladeshi locomotive, an incensed elephant blocked the next train that passed, and banged her forehead against the engine for 15 minutes until she incapacitated the train and walked back into the jungle. Whether feeling a threat from human intruders or acting out of sheer malice toward a perceived enemy, something drove stone martens in Germany and Switzerland to attack. With confounding regularity, flocks began gnawing the ignition cables and coolant hoses of cars in Switzerland and Germany, at great expense to insurance companies. In April 1989, one lone stone marten rampaged through a Munich car park, damaging 100 cars in a single night, just a fraction, however, of the 10,000 cars Audi reports the birds sabotage annually.

In still other cases, animals aware of growing incursion to their land and threats to their lives engage in prolonged warfare with humans. In Sri Lanka, North Bengal, and South Africa, for instance, where elephant populations are in precipitous decline as human numbers swell rapidly, there is a protracted war to control the land. With one sided armed with sharp horns and sheer mass and power, and the other armed with rifles and runs, there are hundreds of casualties on both sides every year. In retaliation for the intrusions and usurpation of their traditional lands, elephants are trampling gardens and farms, taking lands back, destroying human property, and chasing humans down, often killing them. Those humans stupid and cruel enough to torture elephants are later tracked down, identified, ambushed, and killed. “What’s happening today is extraordinary,” says Gay Bradshaw, elephant expert and director of the Kerulos Center for Animal Psychology and Trauma Recovery, “Where for centuries, humans and animals lived in relatively peaceful co-existence, there is now hostility and violence.”[7]

Responding to different threats, using different methods and tactics, in different times, locale, and conditions, animals resist, rebel, revolt, fight back, attack, destroy property, attempt to escape, and kill their human enemies. Some launch lethal offense attacks against those humans they regard as a threat, menace, or deadly opponent. Thus, animals may respond suddenly when rage and resentment against their tormentors overwhelms them, in acts of vengeance, or more deliberately to a human threat they feel is imminent and growing. Foucault’s maxim that power breeds resistance applies to animal slaves and victims of oppression as much as to their human counterparts. Such as true of circus and zoo captives, and the tigers, elephants, chimpanzees and other animals who resist their handlers and slavemasters in many ways on a daily basis, and who do so even in deliberate choices when they know their insubordination will be met with beatings, food rationings, and other forms of punishment, thus showing animals’ capacity for deliberation and ability and desire to put pride at whatever cost over the humiliation of passivity. The animal world has its own Harriet Tubmans, Nat Turners, and John Browns.

Hribal insists that animals are slaves in capitalist society (as earlier in history), and goes so far as to bring them into the categories of “working class” and “proletariat.” He thereby transforms what is indeed the largest and most exploited group of slaves in history into an organized, politically self-aware (in the ideal Lukacsian sense) economic class, such as the terms “class” and “proletarian” imply, which conflates human and nonhuman oppression and entails absurdities such as horse unions and donkey parties. While individual nonhuman animal slaves belong to distinct species, are oppressed and exploited, have complex emotions, social lives, and thought processes, and often rebel, resist, and seek vengeance against their oppressors, their faculties do not manifest in human language and political activity. Here I would agree with leftists like Murray Bookchin or Takis Fotopoulos that there is a conflation of “first” and “second” nature in some sense, for unlike humans animals do not collectively organize against their oppressors, or certainly at least they do now form unions, parties, and justice movements, all being formal organizations and institutions held together with promises, oaths, authority, laws, and so on, which are unique to human animals. This is simply to note that resistance unavoidably takes different forms among nonhuman and human animals, and clearly is devoid of the speciesist deduction that, therefore, humans are more intelligent, evolved, and their lives have more worth and value than other humans. Yet, all qualifications aside, there can be no regression to a Cartesian reduction of animals to instinct machines or simple organisms, without emphasizing what ethology has demonstrated incontrovertibly, namely that nonhuman animals across a wide range of diversity have complex thoughts, feelings, and social lives of their own.

Yet against mainstream animal studies, we must emphasize with Hribal that the category of agency is thin and abstract unless extended to include the myriad ways animals resist human oppression and the value of freedom in their lives. In the 19th century, white racists in US argued that slavery was not wrong because Africans did not seek or need freedom, and lived better with than without chains; human supremacists similarly argue that freedom is an alien or impossible value and condition for nonhuman animals. But the latter argument is as ludicrous as the former. Hence, one key problem with contemporary pseudo-abolitionists appropriating and eviscerating the politically-charged anti-slavery movement in the nineteenth century, is that the term “abolitionism” carries heavy speciesist baggage in failing to emphasize that animals have not only negative wants, to be “free from” confinement, torture, suffering, and oppression, but also positive needs, to be “free to” move, sleep, eat, play, rest, and socialize as they please. Animals do not just shun pain, they have an array of positive goods they seek and enjoy.[8]

In light of the overwhelming evidence of nonhuman animal rebellion against human exploitation and control, humanists and leftists cannot, without embarrassment, persist in reducing them to the status of objects while restricting the discourse of intentionality, rebellion, autonomy, and liberation to human actors only.[9] Aristotle got it wrong: humans are not the only political animal. In addition, “animal advocates” will have to check their own historical biases and speciesist distortions upon learning that moral progress and the animal ethics paradigm shift was not brought about solely through their own campaigns. Progressive change is also driven by nonhuman animals themselves in their revolt against their captors and in the evolving awareness in human society their resistance precipitates.

Unfortunately, as fascinating and chronic as their self-liberation struggles have been throughout the world — in zoos, circuses, and other exploitative institutions — their defiance to human supremacism cannot amount to a revolution without the organized radical politics of enlightened and militant sectors of humanity. The fate of nonhuman animal species continues to hang on whether or not humans can overcome the violent proclivities of their own animality and dismantle systems of hierarchical domination and the omnicidal machines of global capitalism.

This in no way warrants, however, the patronizing, arrogant, and speciesist discourse nearly ubiquitous among all aspects and orientations of the animal advocacy movement, in which people claim to be “the voice of the voiceless.” Animals cannot represent themselves in human courts, speak to the media, or narrate accounts of their suffering and struggles. They cannot liberate themselves from the prisonhouses, gulags, and concentration camps of global capitalism. Yet they speak on their own behalf to the media, they emote and communicate to us in a startling myriad of ways; they tell us unequivocally that they are suffering, unhappy, and oppressed; and they resist, revolt, and rebel in numerous ways, ranging from slowdowns and disobedience to killing. On many occasions, they are perfectly capable of defending themselves against predatory and murderous human beings, but they cannot possibly stand up together against the human Reich in its massive numbers, its invading armies, its powerful technologies of killing and destruction, and its enormous and ubiquitous manifestations and tentacles, from powerful purveyors of mass death emanating from factory farms, slaughterhouses, whaling operations and fisheries to every human being, rich or poor, nearly seven billion in number, who fan out across this planet like locusts and who live to kill and kill to live.




[1] Jason Hribal, Fear of the Animal Planet: The Hidden History of Animal Resistance. AK Press/CounterPunch Books, 2010.

[2] “Animals Are Part of the Working Class: Interview with Jason Hribal, November 28, 2006, Animal Voices (http://animalvoices.ca/2006/11/28/anima ... on-hribal/.

[3] Hribal, “Animals, Agency, and Class: Writing the History of Animals from Below” (http://www.humanecologyreview.org/pasti ... hribal.pdf), p. 5.

[4] For examples of sites listing animal attacks on trainers, handlers, tourists, and various types of people, see “International Exhibited Animal Incidents,” BornFreeUSA (http://www.bornfreeusa.org/popups/a1a_e ... idents.php); “Animal Rampage,” Pigdog Journal, (http://www.pigdog.org/categories/animal_rampage.html); and various installments of “Animal Antics,” Do or Die (e.g.: http://www.eco-action.org/dod/no5/animal_antics.htm, http://www.eco-action.org/dod/no7/33-34.html, http://www.eco-action.org/dod/no7/9.html, and http://www.eco-action.org/dod/no8/antics.html). Also see Mat Thomas, “The Ultimate World War: Animals Against Humans,” September 21, 2008, AnimalRighter (http://animalrighter.blogspot.com/2008/ ... -back.html).

[5] “Animals, Agency, and Class,” p. 106.

[6] See Jason Hribal, “Orca Resistance at Sea World: The Struggle of Nootka and Tilikum,” February 25, 2010, Counterpunch (http://www.counterpunch.org/hribal02252010.html); and “When Animal Resist Their Exploitation,” December 14, 2006, Counterpunch (http://www.counterpunch.org/hribal12142006.html).

[7] Bradshaw cited in Mat Thomas, “The Ultimate World War.”

[8] See Steven Best and Camille Marino, “Not Abolitionists … We’re Liberationists,” April 11, 2010, Negotiation is Over (http://negotiationisover.com/2010/04/no ... ationists/), where we argue that passivists have co-opted, depoliticized, and appropriated as their own the framework of “abolitionism,” almost never mentioning the pluralist and radical nineteenth century US social movement that paved the ground for animal liberation. Here we effected a shift from “abolitionist” to “liberationist” discourse not only because we felt it was irrevocably corrupted by people whose strategy for “abolition” is to attack fellow activists rather than corporate exploiters, but also to underscore the positive dimension of animal subjectivity, defined not only by the negative desire to be free from pain and torture, but also the positive interest in being free to live a satisfying existence. I give greater attention to these points and terminological shift in my forthcoming book, Animal Liberation and Moral Progress: The Struggle for Human Evolution (Rowman and Littlefield, 2012).

[9] This is the essence of the reply to my essay “Rethinking Revolution: Animal Liberation, Human Liberation, and the Future of the Left” (http://www.inclusivedemocracy.org/journ ... lution.htm) by anarchist-libertarians John Sargis and Takis Fotopoulos, in their article, “Human Liberation vs. `animal liberation’,” The International Journal of Inclusive Democracy, Volume 2, Issue #3, June 2006 (http://www.inclusivedemocracy.org/journ ... animal.htm).

Reviving a long-discredited Cartesian mechanism and behaviorism, they effectively reduce animal subjects to the status of objects, and claim that the phrase “animal liberation” is an oxymoron because animals are incapable of having wants, desires, and needs complex enough to have any degree of autonomy. On this archaic model, animals can be neither slaves nor free beings, no more than can chairs or tables, for in typical; left-speciesist fashion, they reserve the realm of thought, choices, subjectivity, and freedom for human animals alone. For my response to this argument, see Steven Best, “Minding the Animals: Ethology and the Obsolescence of Left Humanism,” The International Journal of Inclusive Democracy, Volume 5, Number 2, Spring 2009 (http://www.inclusivedemocracy.org/journ ... nimals.htm).
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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby American Dream » Fri May 20, 2011 10:33 am

http://www.counterpunch.org/stclair05202011.html

When Animals Resist

Let Us Now Praise Infamous Animals

By JEFFREY ST. CLAIR


In the spring of 1457, a gruesome murder took place in the French village of Savigny-sur-Etang. A five-year-old boy had been killed and his body partially consumed. A local family was accused of this frightful crime by local residents who claimed to have witnessed the murder. The seven suspects, a mother and her six children, were soon tracked down by local authorities, who discovered them still stained by the boy's blood. They were arrested, indicted on charges of infanticide and held in the local jail for trial.

The defendants were indigent and the court appointed a lawyer to represent them. A few weeks later a trial was convened in Savigny's seigneurial court. Before a crowded room, witnesses were called. Evidence was presented and legal arguments hotly debated. The justices considered the facts and the law and rendered a verdict and a sentence. The mother was pronounced guilty and ordered to be hanged to death by her legs from the limb of the gallows tree. Her six children, however, received a judicial pardon. The court accepted the defense lawyer's argument that the youngsters lacked the mental competence to have committed a crime in the eyes of the law. The orphaned children were sent into custodial care at the expense of the state.

This is an interesting case to be sure, featuring important lessons about the legal rights of the poor and the historic roots of juvenile justice in western jurisprudence, lessons that seem entirely lost on our current "tradition-obsessed" Supreme Court. But here's the kicker: the defendants in these proceedings were not members of our species. They were, it must be said, a family of pigs.

The Savigny murder case, even in its ghastly particulars, was unexceptional. In medieval Europe (and even colonial America) thousands of animals were summoned to court and put on trial for a variety of offenses, ranging from trespassing, thievery and vandalism to rape, assault and murder. The defendants included cats, dogs, cows, sheep, goats, slugs, swallows, oxen, horses, mules, donkeys, pigs, wolves, bears, bees, weevils, and termites. These tribunals were not show trials or strange festivals like Fools Day. The tribunals were taken seriously by both the courts and the community.

Though now largely lost to history, these trials followed the same convoluted rules of legal procedure used in cases involving humans. Indeed, as detailed in E. P. Evans' remarkable book, The Criminal Prosecution and Capital Punishment of Animals (1906), humans and animals were frequently tried together in the same courtroom as co-conspirators, especially in cases of bestiality. The animal defendants were appointed their own lawyers at public expense. Animals enjoyed appeal rights and there are several instances when convictions were overturned and sentences reduced or commuted entirely. Sometimes, particularly in cases involving pigs, the animal defendants were dressed in human clothes during court proceedings and at executions.

Animal trials were held in two distinct settings: ecclesiastical courts and secular courts. Ecclesiastical courts were the venue of choice for cases involving the destruction of public resources, such as crops, or in crimes involving the corruption of public morals, such as witchcraft or sexual congress between humans and beasts. The secular and royal courts claimed jurisdiction over cases where animals were accused of causing bodily harm or death to humans or, in some instances, other animals.

When guilty verdicts were issued and a death sentence imposed, a professional executioner was commissioned for the lethal task. Animals were subjected to the same ghastly forms of torture and execution as were condemned humans. Convicted animals were lashed, put to the rack, hanged, beheaded, burned at the stake, buried alive, stoned to death and drawn-and-quartered. In 14th century Sardinia, trespassing livestock had an ear cut-off for each offense. In an early application of the three-strikes-and-you're-out rule, the third conviction resulted in immediate execution.

The flesh of executed animals was never eaten. Instead, the corpses of the condemned were either burned, dumped in rivers or buried next to human convicts in graveyards set aside for criminals and heretics. The heads of the condemned, especially in cases of bestiality, were often displayed on pikes in the town square adjacent to the heads of their human co-conspirators.

The first recorded murder trial involving an animal took place in 1266 at Fontenay-aux-Roses (birthplace of the painter Pierre Bonnard) on the outskirts of Paris. The case involved a murder of an infant girl. The defendant was a pig. Though the records have been lost, similar trials almost certainly date back to classical Greece, where, according to Aristotle, secular trials of animals were regularly held in the great Prytaneum of Athens.

Interestingly, Thomas Aquinas's Summa Theologiae, written in 1269, is in part an attack on Aristotle's ideas and his "radical acolytes" who had infiltrated the universities of thirteenth century Europe. In the Summa, Aquinas laboriously tried to explain the theological basis for the trials of animals.

While most of the animal trials, according the records unearthed by Evans, appear to have taken place in France, Germany and Italy, nearly every country in Europe seems to have put beasts on trial, including Russia, Poland, Romania, Spain, Scotland and Ireland. Anglophiles have long claimed that England alone resisted the idea of hauling cows, dogs and pigs before the royal courts. But Shakespeare suggests otherwise. In "The Merchant of Venice," Portia's friend, the young and impetuous Gratiano, abuses Shylock, comparing him to a wolf that had been tried and hanged for murder:

Thy currish spirit
Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter,
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,
Infus'd itself in thee..


Even colonial Brazil got in on the act. In 1713 a rectory at the Franciscan monastery in Piedade no Maranhão collapsed, its foundation ravaged by termites. The friars lodged charges against the termites and an ecclesiastical inquest soon issued a summons demanding that the ravenous insects appear before the court to confront the allegations against their conduct. Often in such cases, the animals who failed to heed the warrant were summarily convicted in default judgments. But these termites had a crafty lawyer. He argued that the termites were industrious creatures, worked hard and enjoyed a God-given right to feed themselves. Moreover, the lawyer declared, the slothful habits of the friars had likely contributed to the disrepair of the monastery. The monks, the defense lawyer argued, were merely using the local termite community as an excuse for their own negligence. The judge returned to his chambers, contemplated the facts presented him and returned with a Solomonic ruling. The friars were compelled to provide a woodpile for the termites to dine at and the insects were commanded to leave the monastery and confine their eating to their new feedlot.

A similar case unfolded in the province of Savoy, France in 1575. The weevils of Saint Julien, a tiny hamlet in the Rhone Alps, were indicted for the crime of destroying the famous vineyards on the flanks of Mount Cenis. A lawyer, Pierre Rembaud, was appointed as defense counsel for the accused. Rembaud wasted no time in filing a motion for summary judgment, arguing that the weevils had every right to consume the grape leaves. Indeed, Rembaud asserted, the weevils enjoyed a prior claim to the vegetation on Mount Cenis, since, as detailed in the Book of Genesis, the Supreme Deity had created animals before he fashioned humans and God had promised animals all of the grasses, leaves and green herbs for their sustenance. Rembaud's argument stumped the court. As the judges deliberated, the villagers of Saint Julien seemed swayed by the lawyer's legal reasoning. Perhaps the bugs had legitimate grievances. The townsfolk scrambled to set aside a patch of open land away from the vineyards as a foraging ground for the weevils. The land was surveyed. Deeds were drawn up and the property was shown to counselor Rembaud for his inspection and approval. They called the weevil reserve La Grand Feisse. Rembaud walked the site, investigating the plant communities with the eyes of a seasoned botanist. Finally, he shook his head. No deal. The land was rocky and had obviously been overgrazed for decades. La Grand Feisse was wholly unsuitable for the discriminating palates of his clients. If only John Walker Lindh had been appointed so resolute an advocate!

The Perry Mason of animal defense lawyers was an acclaimed French jurist named Bartholomew Chassenée, who later became a chief justice in the French provincial courts and a preeminent legal theorist. One of Chassenée's most intriguing essays, the sixteenth-century equivalent of a law review article, was titled De Excommunicatore Animalium Insectorium. In another legal mongraph, Chassenée argued with persuasive force that local animals, both wild and domesticated, should be considered lay members of the parish community. In other words, the rights of animals were similar in kind to the rights of the people at large.

In the summer of 1522, Chassenée was called to the ancient village of Autun in Burgundy. The old town, founded during the reign of Augustus, had been recently overrun by rats. French maidens had been frightened, the barley crop destroyed, the vineyards placed in peril. The town crier issued a summons for the rats to appear before the court. None showed. The judge asked Chassenée why he should not find his clients guilty in absentia. The lawyer argued that the rat population was dispersed through the countryside and that his clients were almost certainly unaware of the charges pending against them. The judge agreed. The town crier was dispatched into the fields to repeat his urgent notice. Yet still the rats failed to appear at trial. Once again Chassenée jumped into action. Showing tactical skills that should impress Gerry Spence, Chassenée shifted his strategy. Now he passionately explained to the court that the rats remained hidden in their rural nests, paralyzed by the prospect of making a journey past the cats of Autun, who were well-known for their ferocious animosity toward rodents.

In the end, the rats were spared execution. The judge sternly ordered them to vacate the fields of Autun within six days. If the rats failed to heed this injunction, the animals would be duly anathematized, condemned to eternal torment. This sentence of damnation would be imposed, the court warned, regardless of any rodent infirmities or pregnancies.

Few animal trials were prosecuted as vigorously as those involving allegations of bestiality. In 1565, a man was indicted for engaging in sexual relations with a mule in the French city of Montpelier. The mule was also charged. Both stood trial together. They were duly convicted and sentenced to death at the stake. Because of the mule's angry disposition, the animal was subjected to additional torments. His feet were chopped off before the poor beast was pitched into the fire.

In 1598, the suspected sorceress Françoise Secretain was brought before the inquisitional court at St. Claude in the Jura Mountains of Burgundy to face charges of witchcraft and bestiality. Secretain was accused of communing with the devil and having sex with a dog, a cat and a rooster. The blood-curdling case is described in detail by her prosecutor, the Grand Justice Henri Boguet, in his strange memoir Discours des Sorciers. Secretain was stripped naked her cell, as the fanatical Boguet inspected her for the mark of Satan. The animals were shaved and plucked for similar examinations. Secretain and her pets were put to various tortures, including having a hot poker plunged down their throats to see if they shed tears, for, as Boguet noted in his memoir:

"All the sorcerers whom I have examined in quality of Judge have never shed tears in my presence: or, indeed, if they have shed them it has been so parsimoniously that no notice was taken of them. I say this with regard to those who seemed to weep, but I doubt if their tears were not feigned. I am at least well assured that those tears were wrung from them with the greatest efforts. This was shown by the efforts which the accused made to weep, and by the small number of tears which they shed."

Alas, the poor woman and her animals did not weep. They perished together in flames at the stake.

In 1642 a teenage boy named Thomas Graunger stood accused of committing, in the unforgettable phrase of Cotton Mather, "infandous Buggeries" with farm animals in Plymouth, Massachusetts. Young master Graunger was hauled before an austere tribunal of Puritans headed by Gov. William Bradford. There he stood trial beside his co-defendants, a mare, a cow, two goats, four sheep, two calves and a turkey. All were found guilty. They were publicly tortured and executed. Their bodies were burned on a pyre, their ashes buried in a mass grave. Graunger was the first juvenile to be executed in colonial America.

In 1750, a French farmer named Jacques Ferron was espied sodomizing a female donkey in a field. Man and beast were arrested and hauled before a tribunal in the commune of Vanves near Paris. After a day-long trial, Ferron was convicted and sentenced to be burned at the stake. But the donkey's lawyers argued that their client was innocent. The defense maintained that the illicit acts were not consensual. The donkey, the defense pleaded, was a victim of rape and not a willing participant in carnal congress with Ferron. Character witnesses were called to testify on the donkey's behalf. Affidavits calling for mercy were filed with the court by several leading citizens of the town, including the head abbot at the local priory, attesting to the benign nature and good moral character of the animal. The abbot wrote that the four-year-old donkey was "in word and deed and in all her habits of life a most honorable creature." Here the court was compelled to evaluate matters of volition, free will and resistance. In short, did the donkey say no? After an intense deliberation, the court announced its verdict. The donkey was acquitted and duly released back to its pasture.

What are we to make of all this? Why did both the secular and religious courts of Europe devote so much time and money to these elaborate trials of troublesome animals? Some scholars, such as James Frazer, argue that the trials performed the function of the ancient rituals of sacrifice and atonement. Others, such as the legal theorist Hans Kelsen, view the cases as the last gasp of the animistic religions. Some have offered an economic explanation suggesting that animals were tried and executed during times of glut or seized in times of economic plight as property by the Church or Crown through the rule of deodand or "giving unto God." Still others have suggested that the trials and executions served a public health function, culling populations of farm animals and rodents that might contribute to the spread of infectious diseases.

Our interest here, however, is not with the social purpose of the trials, but in the qualities and rights the so-called medieval mind ascribed to the defendants: rationality, premeditation, free will, moral agency, calculation and motivation. In other words, it was presumed that animals acted with intention, that they could be driven by greed, jealousy and revenge. Thus the people of the Middle Ages, dismissed as primitives in many modernist quarters, were actually open to a truly radical idea: animal consciousness. As demonstrated in these trials, animals could be found to have mens rea, a guilty mind. But the courts also seriously considered exculpatory evidence aimed at proving that the actions of the accused, including murder, were justifiable owing to a long train of abuses. In other words, if animals could commit crimes, then crimes could also be committed against them.

The animal trials peaked in the late-sixteenth and early-seventeenth centuries, then faded away. They came to be viewed through the lens of modern historians as comical curiosities, grotesquely odd relics of the Dark Ages. The legal scholar W. W. Hyde succinctly summed up the smug, self-aggrandizing view of the legal scholars of the 20th century: "the savage in his rage at an animal's misdeeds obliterates all distinctions between man and beast, and treats the latter in all respects as the former."

Of course, the phasing out of animal trials didn't mean that the cruel treatment of domesticated animals improved or that problematic beasts stopped being put to death in public extravaganzas. While the trials ceased, the executions increased.

Recall the death warrant issued in 1903 against Topsy the Elephant, star of the Forepaugh Circus at Coney Island's Luna Park. Topsy had killed three handlers in a three-year period. One of her trainers was a sadist, who tortured the elephant by beating her with clubs, stabbing her with pikes and feeding her lit cigarettes.

Tospy was ordered to be hanged, but then Thomas Edison showed up and offered to electrocute Topsy. She was shackled, fed carrots laced with potassium cyanide and jolted with 6,600 volts of alternating current. Before a crowd of 1,500 onlookers, Topsy shivered, toppled and died in a cloud of dust. Edison filmed the entire event. He titled his documentary short, "Electrocuting the Elephant."

Topsy received no trial. It was not even imagined that she had grievances, a justification for her violent actions. Topsy was killed because she'd become a liability. Her death was a business decision, pure and simple.

So what happened? How did animals come to be viewed as mindless commodities? One explanation is that modernity rudely intruded in the rather frail form of René Descartes. The great Cartesian disconnect not only cleaved mind from body, but also severed humans from the natural world. Descartes postulated that animals were mere physical automatons. They were biological machines whose actions were driven solely by bio-physical instincts. Animals lacked the power of cognition, the ability to think and reason. They had a brain but no mind.At Port-Royal the Cartesians cut up living creatures with fervor, and in the words of one of Descartes' biographers, "kicked about their dogs and dissected their cats without mercy, laughing at any compassion for them and calling their screams the noise of breaking machinery." Across the Channel Francis Bacon declared in the "Novum Organum" that the proper aim of science was to restore the divinely ordained dominance of man over nature, "to extend more widely the limits of the power and greatness of man and so to endow him with "infinite commodities." Bacon's doctor, William Harvey, was a diligent vivisector of living animals.

Thus did the great sages of the Enlightenment assert humanity's ruthless primacy over the Animal Kingdom. The materialistic view of history, and the fearsome economic and technological pistons driving it, left no room for either the souls or consciousness of animals. They were no longer our fellow beings. They had been rendered philosophically and literally in resources for guiltless exploitation, turned into objects of commerce, labor, entertainment and food.

Conveniently for humans, the philosophers of the Industrial Age declared that animal had no sense of their miserable condition. They could not understand abuse, they had no conception of suffering, they could not feel pain. When captive animals bit, trampled or killed their human captors, it wasn't an act of rebellion against abusive treatment but merely a reflex. There was no need, therefore, to investigate the motivations behind these violent encounters because there could be no premeditation at all on the animal's part. The confrontations could not be crimes. They were mere accidents, nothing more.

One wonders what Descartes would have made of the group of orangutans, who stole crowbars and screwdrivers from zookeepers in San Diego to repeatedly break out of their enclosures? How's that for cognition, cooperation and tool use, Monsieur Descartes?

In 1668, Jean Racine, a playwright not known for his facility with farce, wrote a comedy satirizing the trials of animals. Written eighteen years after the death of Descartes, Les Plaideurs (The Litigants) tells the story of a senile old man obsessed with judging, who eventually places the family dog on trial for stealing a capon from the kitchen table. The mutt is convicted and sentenced to death. Then the condemned canine's lawyer makes a last minute plea for mercy and reveals a litter of puppies before the judge. The old man is moved and the harsh hand of justice is stayed.

Racine's comedy, loosely based on Aristophanes' The Wasps, bombed, playing only two nights before closing, perhaps because the public had not yet been convinced by the solons of Europe to fully renounce their kinship with natural creatures. Revealingly, the play was resurrected a century later by the Comedie-Française to packed houses. By then public attitudes toward animals had shifted decisively in favor of human exceptionalism. According some accounts, the play has now become the most frequently performed French comedy, having been presented in more than 1,400 different productions.

Contrast Descartes sterile, homocentric view with that of a much great intellect, Michel Montaigne. Writing a mere fifty years before Descartes, Montaigne, the most gifted French prose stylist, declared: "We understand them no more than they us. By the same token they may as well esteem us beasts as we them." Famously, he wrote in the "Apology for Raymond Sebond", "When I play with my cat, who knows if I am not a pastime to her more than she is to me?". Montaigne was distressed by the barbarous treatment of animals: "If I see but a chicken's neck pulled off or a pig sticked, I cannot choose but grieve; and I cannot well endure a silly dew-bedabbled hare to groan when she is seized upon by the hounds."

But the materialists held sway. Descartes was backed up the grim John Calvin, who proclaimed that the natural world was a merely a material resource to be exploited for the benefit of humanity, "True it is that God hath given us the birds for our food," Calvin declared. "We know he hath made the whole world for us."

John Locke, the father of modern liberal thinking, described animals as "perfect machines" available for unregulated use by man. The animals could be sent to the slaughterhouse with no right of appeal. In Locke's coldly utilitarian view, cows, goats, chickens and sheep were simply meat on feet.

Thus was the Great Chain of Being ruthlessly transmuted into an iron chain with a manacle clasped round the legs and throats of animals, hauling them off to zoos, circuses, bull rings and abattoirs.

Karl Marx, that supreme materialist, ridiculed the Romantic poets for their "deification of Nature" and chastised Darwin for his "natural, zoological way of thinking." Unfortunately, Marx's great intellect was not empathetic enough to extend his concepts of division of labor, alienation and worker revolt to the animals harnessed into grim service by the lords of capital. By the 1930s, so Matt Cartmill writes in his excellent history of hunting, "A View to a Death in the Morning", "some Marxist thinkers… urged that it was time to put an end to nature and that animals and plants that serve no human purpose ought to be exterminated."

Marx liked to disparage his enemies by calling them baboons. But what would Marx have made of the baboons of northern Africa, hunted down by animal traders, who slaughtered nursing mother baboons and stole their babies for American zoos and medical research labs. The baboon communities violently resisted this risible enterprise, chasing the captors through the wilderness all the way to the train station. Some of the baboons even followed the train for more than a hundred miles and at distant stations launched raids on the cars in an attempt to free the captives. How's that for fearless solidarity?

Fidel Castro, one of Marx's most ardent political practitioners, reinvented himself in his 80s as a kind of eco-guerilla, decrying the threat of global warming and advocating green revolutions. Yet Castro likes nothing more than to take visiting journalists to the Acuario Nacional de la Habana to watch captive dolphins perform tricks. The cetaceans are kept in wretched conditions, often trapped in waters so saturated with chlorine that it burns ulcers in the skin and peels the corneas off the eyeballs. Cuba captures and breeds dolphins for touring exhibitions and for sale to notoriously noxious aquatic parks throughout South America. The captive dolphins in Havana are trained by Celia Guevara, daughter of Che. There, as in other dolphin parks, food is used as a weapon in the pitiless reconditioning of the brainy sea mammals. Do the trick right or you don't get fed. Is it any wonder then that many captive dolphins have chosen to bite the hand that starves them?

In this respect, at least, Adam Smith comes out a little more humane than the Marxists. Although he viewed animals as property, Smith recoiled at the sight of the abattoir: "The trade of a butcher is a brutal and odious business."

Through the ages, it's been the poets who have largely held firm in their affinity with the natural world. Consider the Metamorphoses composed by the Roman poet and political dissident Ovid around the time of Christ's birth. In the final book of this epic, where humans are routinely transformed into animals, Ovid summons the spirit of Pythagoras. The great sage of Samos, whom Aristotle hailed as the father of philosophy, gives the most important speech in the poem. But the author of the famous Theorem forsakes the opportunity to proclaim that mathematics is the foundation of nature. Instead, Ovid's Pythagoras denounces the killing of animals for food and asserts the sanctity of all life forms.

"What evil they contrive, how impiously they prepare to shed human blood itself, who rip at a calf's throat with the knife, and listen unmoved to its bleating, or can kill a kid goat to eat, that cries like a child, or feed on a bird, that they themselves have fed! How far does that fall short of actual murder? Where does the way lead on from there?"

Where indeed. To hell, perhaps? That's what John Milton thought. Milton's God advises Adam that animals have the power of cognition and indeed they "reason not contemptibly."

Crusty Robert Burns tells a frightened field mouse:

I'm truly sorry Man's dominion 

Has broken Nature's social union, 

An' justifies that ill opinion, 

Which makes thee startle, 

At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, 

An' fellow-mortal!


Samuel Taylor Coleridge expressed similar fraternal sentiments to a donkey chained in a field:

Poor Ass! thy master should have learnt to show 
Pity –
best taught by fellowship of Woe!

For much I fear me that He lives like thee,

Half famished in a land of Luxury!

How askingly its footsteps hither bend!

It seems to say, "And have I then one friend?"

Innocent foal! thou poor despised forlorn!

I hail thee Brother -- spite of the fool's scorn!

And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell

Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell …


Lord Byron objected to angling, saying it inflicted unnecessary pain on trout, and ridiculed Izaak Walton for debasing poetry in promotion of this "cruel" hobby. His Lordship would, no doubt, have been outraged by the inane past-time of "catch-and-release" fishing.

Byron's arch-nemesis William Wordsworth wrote a stunning poem titled "Hart-Leap Well," tracking the last moments in the life a mighty stag chased "for thirteen hours" to its death by a horse-riding knight and his hounds. The ballad closes with a stark denunciation of hunting for sport:

"This Beast not unobserved by Nature fell;
His death was mourned by sympathy divine.

"The Being, that is in the clouds and air,
That is in the green leaves among the groves,
Maintains a deep and reverential care
For the unoffending creatures whom he loves.
...
"One lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide,
Taught both by what she [ie. Nature' shows, and what conceals;
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels."

The great, though mad, naturalist-poet John Clare openly worshipped "the religion of the fields," while William Blake, the poet of revolution, simply said:

"For every thing that lives is Holy,
Life delights in life."


And, finally, there is the glorious precedent of Geoffrey Chaucer, who reveals himself to be an animal liberationist. In the General Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, Chaucer describes the Prioress as a woman who cannot abide the abuse of animals.

But for to speken of hir conscience,
She was so charitable and so pious
She wolde wepe, if that she sawe a mous
Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
Of smaule houndes hadde she that she fedde
With rosted flessh, or milk and wastel-breed.
But soore wepte she if oon of hem were deed,
Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte;
And al was conscience and tender herte.


Later in the remarkable Tale of the Manciple, Chaucer goes all the way, arguing forcefully against the caging of wild songbirds. The English language's first great poet concludes that no matter how well you treat the captives, the birds desire their freedom:

"Taak any bryd, and put it in a cage,
And do al thyn entente and thy corage
To fostre it tendrely with mete and drynke,
Of alle deyntees that thou kanst bithynke;
And keepe it al so clenly as thou may,
Although his cage of gold be nevere so gay,
Yet hath this bryd, by twenty thousand foold,
Levere in a forest that is rude and coold
Goon ete wormes, and swich wrecchednesse;
For evere this bryd wol doon his bisynesse
To escape out of his cage, whan he may.
His libertee this brid desireth ay."

It would take the philosophers nearly six hundred years to catch up with Chaucer's enlightened sentiments. In 1975, the Australian Peter Singer published his revolutionary book Animal Liberation. Singer demolished the Cartesian model that treated animals as mere machines. Blending science and ethics, Singer asserted that most animals are sentient beings, capable of feeling pain. The infliction of pain was both unethical and immoral. He argued that the progressive credo of providing "the greatest good for the greatest number" should be extended to animals and that animals should be liberated from their servitude in scientific labs, factory farms, circuses and zoos.

A quarter century after the publication of Animal Liberation, Peter Singer revisited the great taboo of bestiality in an essay titled "Heavy Petting." Expressing sentiments that would have shocked Grand Inquisitor Boguet, Singer argued that sexual relations between humans and animals should not automatically be considered acts of abuse. According to Singer, it all comes down to the issue of harm. In some cases, Singer suggested, animals might actually feel excitement and pleasure in such inter-species couplings. Even for the most devoted animal rights advocates this might be taking E. O. Wilson's concept of biophilia a little too literally.

In Fear of the Animal Planet, historian Jason Hribal takes a radical, but logical, step beyond Singer. Hribal reverses the perspective and tells the story of liberation from the animals' points-of-view. This is history written from the end of the chain, from inside the cage, from the depths of the tank. Hribal's chilling investigation travels much further than Singer dared to go. For Hribal, the issue isn't merely harm and pain, but consent. The confined animals haven't given their permission to be held captive, forced to work, fondled or publicly displayed for profit.

Hribal skillfully excavates the hidden history of captive animals as active agents in their own liberation. His book is a harrowing, and curiously uplifting, chronicle of resistance against some of the cruelest forms of torture and oppression this side of Abu Ghraib prison.

Hribal takes us behind the scenes of circus and the animal park, exposing methods of training involving sadistic forms of discipline and punishment, where elephants and chimps are routinely beaten and terrorized into submission.

We witness from the animals' perspective the tyrannical trainers, creepy dealers in exotic species, arrogant zookeepers and sinister hunters, who slaughtered the parents of young elephants and apes in front of their young before they captured them. We are taken inside the cages, tents and tanks, where captive elephants, apes and sea mammals are confined in wretched conditions with little medical care.

All of this is big business, naturally. Each performing dolphin can generate more than a million dollars a year in revenue, while orcas can produce twenty times that much.

This is a history of violent resistance to such abuses. Here are stories of escapes, subterfuges, work stoppages, gorings, rampages, bitings, and, yes, revenge killings. Each trampling of a brutal handler with a bull-hook, each mauling of a taunting visitor, each drowning of a tormenting trainer is a crack in the old order that treats animals as property, as engines of profit, as mindless objects of exploitation and abuse. The animal rebels are making their own history and Jason Hribal serves as their Michelet.

Hribal's heroic profiles in animal courage show how most of these violent acts of resistance were motivated by their abusive treatment and the miserable conditions of their confinement. These animals are far from mindless. Their actions reveal memory not mere conditioning, contemplation not instinct, and, most compellingly, discrimination not blind rage. Again and again, the animals are shown to target only their abusers, often taking pains to avoid trampling bystanders. Animals, in other words, acting with a moral conscience.

So let us now praise infamous animals.

Consider the case of Jumbo the Elephant, the world's most famous animal. Captured in eastern Africa in 1865, Jumbo would become the star attraction of P.T. Barnums' Circus. Jumbo earned millions for his owners, but he was treated abysmally for most of his brief life. The giant pachyderm was confined to a small compartment with a concrete floor that damaged his feet and caused his joints to become arthritic. He was trained using unspeakably brutal methods, he was shackled in leg-chains, jabbed with a lance, beaten with ax handles, drugged and fed beer to the point of intoxication. He was endlessly shipped back-and-forth across the country on the circuses train and made to perform two shows a day, six days a week. At the age of 24 Jumbo was finally fed up. He could tolerate it no more. On a September night in Ontario, Jumbo and his sidekick, the small elephant called Thom Thumb, broke free from their handlers and wondered away from the tent and towards the train tracks. As P.T. Barnum later told the story, Jumbo pushed his pal Thom Thumb safely off the tracks and tried to ram an oncoming train. After Jumbo died an autopsy was performed. He stomach contents reviled numerous metallic objects that he had been fed over the years, including keys, screws, bolts, pennies and nickels—his reward for entertain hundreds of thousands of people.

Tatiana the Tiger, confined for years in a small enclosure at the San Francisco Zoo, finally reached her limit after being tormented by three teenaged boys on Christmas day 2006. She leapt the twelve-foot high wall, snatched one of the lads in her paws and eviscerated him. She stalked the zoo grounds for the next half-hour, by-passing many other visitors, until she tracked down the two other culprits and mauled them both before being gunned down by police.

There is Ken the Orangutan who pelted an intrusive TV news crew with his own shit from his enclosure at the San Diego Zoo.

Moe the Chimpanzee, an unpaid Hollywood actor who, when he wasn't working, was locked in a tiny cage in West Covina. Moe made multiple escapes and fiercely resisted his recapture. He bit four people and punched at least one police officer. After his escape, he was sent off to a miserable confinement at a dreary place called Jungle Exotics. Moe escaped again, this time into the San Bernadino Mountains, where's he's never been heard from since.

Speaking of Hollywood, let's toast the memory of Buddha the Orangutan (aka Clyde), who co-starred with Clint Eastwood in the movie Every Which Way But Loose. On the set, Buddha simply stopped working one day. He refused to perform his silly routines any more and his trainer repeatedly clubbed him in the head with a hard cane in front of the crew. One day near the end of filming Buddha, like that dog in Racine's play, snatched some doughnuts from a table on the set. The ape was seized by his irate keeper, taken back his cage and beaten to death with an ax handle. Buddha's name was not listed in the film's credits.

Tyke the Elephant was captured in the savannahs of Zimbabwe and shipped to the United States to work in a traveling circus, where she was routinely disciplined with a sharp hook called an ankus. After 20 years of captivity and torture, Tyke reached her tipping point one day in Honolulu. During the elephant routine under the Big Top, Tyke made her break. She smashed through the railings of the ring and dashed for the exits. She chased after circus clowns and handlers, over-turned cars, busted through a gate and ran onto the streets of Honolulu. She was gunned down, while still wearing her rhinestone tiara.

Then there is the story of Tilikum the orca. When he was two, Tilikum was rudely seized from the frigid waters of the North Atlantic off the coast of Iceland. The young killer whale was shipped to Vancouver Island, where he was forced to perform tricks at an aquatic theme park called Sealand. Tilikum was also pressed into service as a stud, siring numerous calves for exploitation by his captors. Tilikum shared his small tank with two other orcas, Nootka and Haida. In February 1991, the whales' female trainer slipped and fell into the tank. The whales wasted no time. The woman grabbed, submerged repeatedly, and tossed her back and forth between the three whales until she drowned. At the time of the killing, Haida was pregnant with a calf sired by Tilikum

Eight years later, a 27-year-old man broke into the aquatic park, stripped off his clothes and jumped into the tank with Tilikum. The orca seized the man, bit him sharply and flung him around. He was found floating dead in the pool the next morning. The authorities claimed the man died of hypothermia.

In 2010, Tilikum was a star attraction at Sea World in Orlando. During an event called "Dining With Shamu," Tilikum snatched his trainer, Dawn Brancheau, and dragged her into the pool, where, in front of horrified patrons, he pinned her to the bottom until she drowned to death. The whale had delivered his third urgent message.

Tilikum is the Nat Turner of the captives of Sea World. He has struck courageous blows against the enslavement of wild creatures. Now it is up to us to act on his thrust for liberation and build a global movement to smash forever these aquatic gulags from the face of the Earth.



This essay is the introduction to Fear of the Animal Planet by Jason Hribal.

Jeffrey St. Clair is the author of Been Brown So Long It Looked Like Green to Me: the Politics of Nature and Grand Theft Pentagon. His newest book, Born Under a Bad Sky, is published by AK Press / CounterPunch books. He can be reached at: sitka@comcast.net.


Sources

Bierne, Piers, "The Law is an Ass," Society and Animals, Vol. 2 No. 1. (1994)

Boguet, Henri. An Examen of Witches. Trans. E.A. Ashwin. Portrayer Pub. (2002)

Castillo, Hugo P. "Captive Marine Mammals in South America," Whales Alive!, Vol. 7, No. 1 (1998)

Chaucer, Geoffrey. The Tales of Canterbury. Ed. Robert Pratt. Houghton Mifflin. (1974)

Coe, Sue and Cockburn, Alexander. Dead Meat. Running Press. (1996)

Cohen, Esther. Law, Folklore and Animal Lore. Past and Present 110. (1986)

Darnton, Robert. The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History. Penguin. (1985)

Davis, Susan. Spectacular Nature: Corporate Culture and the Sea World Experience. University of California. (1997)

Dubois-Desaulle, Gaston. Bestiality: an Historical, Medical, Legal and Literary Study. Panurge. (1933)

Evans, E. P. The Criminal Prosecution and Capital Punishment of Animal. Faber and Faber. (1987)

Ferrero, William. "Crime Among Animals." Forum, 20. (1895)

Finkelstein, J.J. "The Ox That Gored." Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, 71. (1981)

Frazer, James G. Folklore in the Old Testament. Tudor. (1923)

Girgen, Jen. "The Historical and Contemporary Prosecution of Animals." Animal Law. Vol. 9:97. (2003)

Humphrey, Nicholas. The Mind Made Flesh. Oxford University Press, (2002)

Hyde, W. W. "The Prosecution and Punishment of Animals and Lifeless Things in the Middle Ages and Modern Times." University of Pennsylvania Law Review, 64, 7, 690-730. (1914)

Lovejoy, Arthur. The Great Chain of Being: a Study of the History of an Idea. Harvard University Press. (1936)

Ovid. The Metamorphosis. Trans. Charles Martin. Norton. (2005)

Peterson, Dale and Goodall, Jane. Visions of Caliban: On Chimpanzees and Humans. University of Georgia Press. (1993)

Salisbury, Joyce. The Beast Within: Animals in the Middle Ages. Routeledge. (1994)

Serpell, James. In the Company of Animals. Oxford University Press. (1986)

Singer, Peter. Animal Liberation: a New Ethics for Our Treatment of Animals. Random House. (1975)

--. "Heavy Petting." Nerve. (2001)

Tester, Keith. Animals and Society: the Humanity of Animal Rights. Routledge. (1991)

Thomas, Keith. Man and the Natural World. Oxford University Press. (1983)

--. Religion and the Decline of Magic. Oxford University Press. (1970)
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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby Janewas » Fri May 20, 2011 12:05 pm

So long and thanks for all the fish......

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFg6Y7zb ... re=related

maybe we need to come up with a new way to interpret all of this scientific data we are collecting.
and lets not forget about plants minerals and bacteria...
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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby American Dream » Fri May 20, 2011 12:13 pm

I am by no means vegan but I am horrified by what goes on in factory farms, with "domesticated animals", towards marine mammals, etc.
"If you don't stand for something, you will fall for anything."
-Malcolm X
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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby American Dream » Mon Jul 11, 2011 7:38 am

http://www.counterpunch.org/hribal07082011.html

The True Story of Little Joe and the Franklin Park Zoo

No One Likes the Zookeeper

By JASON HRIBAL

Editors' note: The film,
The Zookeeper, was released today. It depicts the relationship between a Franklin Park keeper and an assortment of captive animals—in particular, a gorilla. In the film’s honor, we thought the true story of the Boston zoo and its most famous gorilla, Little Joe, should be told.


Electrified wires were the answer. There was simply no way that Little Joe, a 300-pound adolescent gorilla, could ever figure out how to get around these. Sure, the gorilla had just escaped over a twelve foot wide and twelve-foot-deep moat, a feat which no ape should have ever been able to do. But these shock-inducing wires, the Franklin Park Zoo assured itself and the general public, would certainly do the trick and prevent any further escapes. Right? Well, no. Only one month later, in September of 2003, Little Joe out-smarted his captors once again and made it out of his exhibit. And this time, he made the national news.

Responding to the barrage of questions that followed, the best that the Boston, Massachusetts zoo could come up with was a collective shrug of the shoulders. How did the gorilla get over the moat? We don’t know. How did he get by the electrified wires? We don’t know. Is a teenage ape really smarter than a medley of experienced keepers, curators, and engineers? No comment. The zoo’s spokesman kept repeating, “There’s a lot we have to find out, and we’ll be reviewing what happened.” When pressed further for a better answer, one employee slipped off the scripted response and offered his honest take on the situation. Gorillas “go through a stage where, physically and psychologically, they’re growing much stronger, and become much more lean and long, and containment can be an increasing challenge at the age.” Gorillas, he hinted, can resist their captivity. Indeed, whether this employee fully grasped the potency of his acknowledgement or not, the fact is that these animals do have a long history of outmaneuvering and overcoming the very best of ideas and designs deployed by zoological parks.

At the Los Angeles Zoo, a gorilla named Evelyn escaped seven times over a twenty year period. Born in 1976, she had been the offspring of the only two surviving lowland gorillas at the facility—that is, the only two who lived long enough to tell the tale of their transfer from the western jungles of Africa to the urban center of southern California. The other four apes had died almost immediately upon arrival from a combination of negligence and sheer stupidity on the part of the staff. Nevertheless, this is the place where Evelyn was brought into the world, and it was here where she would grow—both in terms of her size and her resourcefulness.

The gorilla’s most infamous escape occurred in October of 2000: for not only did Evelyn get out of the gorilla enclosure, but she wandered the park grounds for over one hour. Visitors had to be evacuated. Television helicopters criss-crossed the sky with their cameras aimed down upon the scene, each in a desperate search for the elusive ape. When keepers finally tracked her down, they shot her with a tranquilizer dart. The gorilla pulled it out and stumbled into a nearby bathroom. There, she was cornered, hit with another dart, and “subdued.” Park officials were not quite certain how Evelyn got out of her exhibit. There was that time when she scaled a high wall after getting a boost from another gorilla. But cooperation did not appear to be the answer here. Instead, keepers guessed that she probably used some overgrown vines to pull her way out. Whatever the case, Evelyn was not the only troublemaker at the California zoo.

In July of 2000, Jim, a thirteen year old gorilla, escaped. Approaching a group of school children, he was fire-hosed back by a keeper. “Jim started running,” the man exclaimed, “and then soared across the twelve foot wide moat. He landed without a wobble.” In another incident, Jim made it out after noticing that someone had forgot to lock his cage. Gorillas constantly keep a close watch on this sort of thing. They know the comings and goings of employees and volunteers and whether or not all doors have been securely fastened. In the summer of 2004, seven Columbus, Ohio gorillas did just that and fled their cage. They never were able to get out of the main primate building and onto the grounds, but, at least for a few hours, they were able to do some exploring. Then there was Mema, the San Diego gorilla. In the summer of 1992, she made it from her unlocked exhibit and roamed the park for two and half hours, frightening visitors, running from handlers, and dodging two tranquilizer darts. That same year at the Miami Metro Zoo, a gorilla named Jimmy decided to take matters into his own hands and picked his cage lock. Officials noted that for some time Jimmy had been working on this particular skill but, as of yet, had failed in his attempts. The zoo was confident that the gorilla would never be able to understand the complex locking mechanism. They were wrong.

Of course, patience is a virtue that not all primates share. Waiting for a keeper to slip up or months spent learning the art of lock-picking might be okay for some gorillas but not all. There have always been those, who like Little Joe or Evelyn, have been more active or immediate in their approach to resistance. Some have tried to batter down the doors with brute strength. Jim used this method once in Los Angeles, and succeeded. Togo, a gorilla at the Toledo Zoo, once ripped off the entire roof of his exhibit. He also, on several occasions, bent the bars of his cage and attempted to slip out between the gaps. But, perhaps, his craftiest idea came when the zoo placed him behind a thick layer of shatter-resistant glass. ‘Let’s see the gorilla get out of this one,’ his overseers must have laughed. Never without a retort, Togo studied the new structure for a moment and then began removing the putty that held the window in place.

Other gorillas have used their keen athletic abilities to flee. An unidentified female gorilla at the Pittsburg Zoo, for example, leapt across a sixteen foot moat, grabbing a stalk of bamboo along the way, and pole-vaulted herself to the other side. After the chaos had settled and each question had been answered, the media still stood in disbelief. Gorillas look so big and slow, like some sort of lumbering, lethargic giant. They cannot possibly be so agile and acrobatic. Or can they? Yes, a spokesperson assured, gorillas can. And, while Pittsburg administrators might have been surprised by the manner in which the escape was executed, they were not caught entirely unprepared for it. These types of break-outs were the precise reason why the park developed its “Animal Escape Procedure Team for Primates” in the first place: to strategize and prepare for the inevitable. These animals know what freedom is and they want it. At the end of the day, the Pittsburgh zoo assured visitors that the bamboo would be trimmed to a lower height whereby no gorilla could repeat the same action. These primates would have to discover a new means to get out of their enclosure.

Then there was the limber Jabari of the Dallas Zoo. In 2004, this thirteen-year old climbed out an exhibit that was, according to the facility director, “among the best in the country.” It was only a few years earlier when the entire structure had been redesigned. This happened because of another gorilla. His name was Hercules, and, after his November of 1998 escape, the zoo was fined $25,000 by the United States Department of the Agriculture. Park executives vowed it would never happen again. Consultants were brought in. Gorilla habitats from around the country were surveyed. The answer appeared to lie in a specially engineered wall: sixteen feet in height and concave in shape. It would be, experts guaranteed, escape-proof. No gorilla could ever master this barrier. Yet, Jabari accomplished the impossible. As the Dallas director later admitted, the gorilla “had to have scaled the wall . . . This blows our minds.”

And who could forget about Bokito at the Diergaarde Blijdorp Zoo in Rotterdam. During his escape in 2007, this gorilla scaled several supposedly unscalable stone walls. Then he somehow managed to get himself across a water-filled moat. This latter feat, a zoo spokesman explained, was most remarkable “because gorillas can’t swim.” Significantly, there is still some debate about this, as to whether gorillas can actually swim or not. Some biologists say no. These creatures sink like stones. Others say maybe. Big apes could theoretically paddle around a little bit before drowning. Either way, everyone agrees on one particular point: gorillas are deathly afraid of water. They do not like it and do not want to wade into it. Nor are they alone. Many primates and monkeys are frightened by bodies of water, whether a steam, a river, or a lake. Zoos know this, and they use the fear to their advantage. A water-filled moat makes for a most effective border and deterrent. It is Alcatraz for primates. Nevertheless, there will always be those individuals held in captivity for whom no cage could ever be strong enough and no body of water wide enough to contain their zeal for freedom. Bokito was one of those defiant spirits. Another was a gibbon named Archie. At his Minnesota zoo, he would regularly escape from his water-enclosed island. Each time, Archie would be netted, tranquilized, and dragged back. And each time, he would stick a figurative middle finger up in the air, overcome his fears, and cross the water again. Why did he continue to do it? A park administrator spoke candidly: Archie enjoys beating up on visitors. Indeed, for zoos, escapes are often just the start of their problems.

When Little Joe broke out from his Franklin Park exhibit for the second time, he ended up attacking two people. One of them was a teenage girl. The other was a young child. The gorilla threw them both onto their backs. He dragged them about. He bit the teenager several times. After that outburst of violence, Little Joe made his way out of the zoo and into the Boston streets. The surprise of a lifetime awaited the people at one neighborhood bus stop, as standing beside them was a gorilla. Little Joe, though, decided to skip the bus and ran off again. It took two hours, over fifty cops and zoo workers, and more than a few tranquilizer darts to bring Little Joe into custody. Franklin Park could breathe a sigh of relief—but only momentarily. Soon, the AZA would be calling. USDA inspectors would be on their way. Local and state law enforcement would want to talk. Lawyers were undoubtedly racing each other to the park. Lawsuits would follow. The media was already everywhere.

A similar frenzy attended Jabari’s escape at the Dallas Zoo. He had attacked a group of parents and children. Keepers tried to tranquilize him, but they missed. Jabari was too quick. After an extended chase, the gorilla was finally cornered and shot to death by police. It was an ugly sight, and one soon not forgotten. At the press conference that followed, one particular line of questioning weighed on people’s minds. Why did the gorilla do this? Why did he attack this particular group of people? Why did he attack innocent children?

Such occurrences are easier to rationalize and explain if they involve zoo employees. We can imagine that a trainer probably tried to prevent the animal from escaping and thus got injured in the process. Or, maybe the animals were extracting a little revenge for being held in captivity or for being mistreated. The first thing Jimmy did in Miami after unlocking his cage was to assault his trainer. The same can be said for Hercules in 1998. He knocked his handler down and bit the woman repeatedly on the arm and side. The injuries proved to be quite serious. Or there was the case of Kongo, a twenty-seven year old from the Bronx Zoo. This gorilla actually made his slip while being transferred from one cage to another. When confronted by his keepers, Kongo did not hesitate. He ran straight at the two men. “The scene was chaos,” one witness observed. Yet, when we insert visitors into this question of attacks, it becomes more problematic. Was Jabari or Little Joe making a random choice? Were these visitors in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or was there intent behind the assaults?

The Dallas Zoo favored the first explanation: the attack was random. Similar was Franklin Park’s explanation. Little Joe, the director stated for the record, could not be blamed for acting like an animal. He meant no harm. His actions were an aberration. But a deeper investigation into these incidences suggests other possibilities. For instance, witnesses at the Dallas Zoo reported that a group of children had been teasing Jabari immediately prior to his escape and attack. The gorilla, they believed, had been provoked.

Significantly, the zoological industry has always had trouble in dealing with cruel and sadistic behavior on behalf of visitors. Some parks have attempted to tackle the issue by posting warning signs and hiring more security guards. Others have chosen to ignore it. Few have ever admitted publicly how frequently captive animals are tormented by zoo visitors.

The hard truth is that teasing is endemic at zoos, and it is perpetrated by both children and adults. The sight of visitors yelling, screaming, and banging on windows and fences is normal. People hurl rocks, coins, bottles, cans, and other objects at animals. Cigarettes butts have been found in cages for as long as there have been cigarettes. Sometimes, even needles, pins, nails, razorblades, and shards of glass find their way into exhibits. Every year an undetermined number of animals die, or become ill, due to the accidental ingestion of foreign items tossed into enclosures by visitors. Can visitor behavior possibly get worse? Yes, it can. Animals have been poisoned at zoos. They have had acid thrown on them. They have been punched and kicked. They have been stabbed and shot. Pellet guns seem to be a particularly favorite weapon among visitors.

But let’s return to the matter of intent in escaped animal attacks. We know that Jabari had been teased and thus had motivation for his attack. Whether he chose the right group of children to take his frustrations out on is another issue. Neither the Dallas Zoo nor the parents involved have been forthcoming with such information. As to Little Joe, no reports about taunting surfaced in the days that followed the incident. His attack, however, was anything but random. The teenager involved turned out to be an off-duty zoo volunteer. Little Joe could have chosen any number of visitors to beat up on. Yet he chased down this particular person. He obviously had his reasons. And while Franklin Park administrators chose not to acknowledge this fact, they still had to deal with it. In the end, there were four separate investigations. The AZA threatened to pull accreditation. The zoo itself “refused to rule out putting the restless primate to death in order to protect the public.” Little Joe had caused a public-relations nightmare.

At the Los Angeles Zoo, Evelyn and Jim’s escapes in 2000 caused similar unwanted attention. Stories began to emerge about the decrepit conditions of the gorilla house. Reporters wanted to know more about escapes. When they were told that the zoo did not keep records of such things, they started their own investigation. The results were shocking: thirty-five break outs in the past five years. In November 2000, the USDA demanded that the park secure its exhibit. “Every time a gorilla escapes,” a handler admitted, “we raise the walls a little higher—and we’re about to do it again … We really need a better, more secure enclosure. It would make it a lot easier for me to sleep at night.” In 2003, the zoo shipped its entire gorilla population to Colorado until an entirely new, more secure enclosure could be constructed. Ironically, one year later, Evelyn would escape from her Denver Zoo habitat. Along the way, she assaulted a keeper, roamed the primate building for nearly an hour, and caused a “code red” alert. The event prompted an independent investigation, and the findings made the national wire. There had been forty-five separate incidents in the past five years wherein a Denver zoo employee had been injured by an animal.

Back in Boston, Franklin Park officials decided ultimately not to execute Little Joe. Instead, they placed him into solidarity confinement where he would remain until a new enclosure could be designed and built. Years ticked by and Little Joe stayed out of the public view. Rumors surfaced that the gorilla was being drugged by keepers in order to keep him under control. These stories were denied. In 2007, the exhibit was unveiled. With triple-layered glass walls, a woven-steel cap, and twenty-four hour video surveillance, the place made for quite a spectacle. Franklin Park, though, was not nearly as excited as the media or visitors. It just prayed that there would be no more escapes. Stay tuned.



Jason Hribal is a historian and author of Fear of the Animal Planet: the Hidden History of Animal Resistance (CounterPunch / AK Press).
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Little Joe: teenage werewolf

Postby IanEye » Mon Jul 11, 2011 10:42 am


Symbiotic Liberation
Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Rights (and Vice Versa)



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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby Stephen Morgan » Mon Jul 11, 2011 11:26 am

What about my right to bacon? Would this not conflict with the pig's right not to be eaten? Would not a right to life for animals remove the economic incentive humans currently have for supporting their subsistence with our arable products?
Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that all was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, and make it possible. -- Lawrence of Arabia
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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby crikkett » Mon Jul 11, 2011 12:12 pm

Stephen Morgan wrote:What about my right to bacon? Would this not conflict with the pig's right not to be eaten? Would not a right to life for animals remove the economic incentive humans currently have for supporting their subsistence with our arable products?


I think it's more of a matter of humans being responsible for the quality of life of our livestock and providing a humane, respectful sacrifice (death) so that we may live.

My local butcher taught me how to look out for 'sour pork' - it happens when a pig is swimming in adrenaline because its death is terrifying. It's not good for us. The best meat, he said, is 'happy, happy, happy, Dead.'

Stephen, is that really too much to ask?
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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby Stephen Morgan » Mon Jul 11, 2011 12:59 pm

crikkett wrote:
Stephen Morgan wrote:What about my right to bacon? Would this not conflict with the pig's right not to be eaten? Would not a right to life for animals remove the economic incentive humans currently have for supporting their subsistence with our arable products?


I think it's more of a matter of humans being responsible for the quality of life of our livestock and providing a humane, respectful sacrifice (death) so that we may live.

My local butcher taught me how to look out for 'sour pork' - it happens when a pig is swimming in adrenaline because its death is terrifying. It's not good for us. The best meat, he said, is 'happy, happy, happy, Dead.'

Stephen, is that really too much to ask?


That would depend how much it adds to the price of the bacon.
Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that all was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, and make it possible. -- Lawrence of Arabia
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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby crikkett » Mon Jul 11, 2011 1:08 pm

Stephen Morgan wrote:That would depend how much it adds to the price of the bacon.


This attitude is why the world is such a living hell.

But i love ya anyway.
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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby Stephen Morgan » Mon Jul 11, 2011 1:55 pm

crikkett wrote:
Stephen Morgan wrote:That would depend how much it adds to the price of the bacon.


This attitude is why the world is such a living hell.

But i love ya anyway.


That seems to be the attitude I elicit. I'm just glad there are people out there killing pigs for the likes of you and me, I'd be much too soft to kill a lovely little pig. The intelligent little eyes, the terrified squealing, I couldn't do it. When I bump into furniture I apologise to it, so snuffing creatures isn't something I'd indulge in.
Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that all was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, and make it possible. -- Lawrence of Arabia
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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby 82_28 » Mon Jul 11, 2011 2:44 pm

Witnesses Say Dolphins Brought Body Of Grand Isle Drowning Victim To Shore

GRAND ISLE—

The Fourth of July weekend turns tragic with the drowning of a Denham Springs man in Grand Isle. But some beachgoers say this story has an unusual ending.

Cesar Zuniga of McAllen, Texas is watching his children like a hawk on this Fourth of July vacation, especially after learning a man drowned Sunday after being caught in an undertow.

“When you're in the water, you're helpless. All you can do is basically try to stay up, or try to struggle with it, but we're not fish,” Zuniga said.

Grand Isle Fire Chief Aubrey Chaisson says his rescue team along with the Coast Guard responded to the call of four people possibly in trouble out in the waters, all but one got out: 47 year old Luis Arturo Polanco Morales of Denham Springs. After three hours the search was called off.

“About an hour later, we got a phone call when the tide brought him in, and actually, he was 10-15 feet he had drifted in,” Chaisson said.

Authorities say people told them dolphins actually carried the body to the waves. Word of this spread like wildfire on this beach.

“I guess it could be possible. They're mammals. I think they're intelligent enough to do stuff like that,” Zuniga said.

“That is very possible. One of the eyewitnesses said they saw that, I mean...” Chaisson said.

While beachgoers try to enjoy the last day of Fourth of July weekend safely with sand, sunshine and waves, Cesar Zuniga still can't shake what he heard happened.

“I guess I call it a miracle, right? I mean, I'm sorry somebody lost their life, but for them to do that to bring the body shore, they’re keeping an eye on us. They're keeping an eye on us,” Zuniga said.

If you ever get stuck in an undertow, Chief Chaisson says don't panic, the water will take you out a way, but if you float with it, it will eventually release you.


http://www.abc26.com/news/local/wgno-ma ... 5588.story
There is no me. There is no you. There is all. There is no you. There is no me. And that is all. A profound acceptance of an enormous pageantry. A haunting certainty that the unifying principle of this universe is love. -- Propagandhi
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Re: Symbiotic Liberation Or Why Animal Rights Spell Human Ri

Postby MinM » Wed Oct 16, 2013 12:20 am

Image @DeadlineDetroit: The Detroit Sheep That Ran Away From The Slaughter Deserves Freedom Now!

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The Detroit Sheep That Ran Away From The Slaughter Deserves Freedom Now!

Bill McGraw bill@deadlinedetroit.com
October 15th, 2013, 11:39 PM

It happens in Detroit about once a decade: An animal, headed to its death at a slaughterhouse, stands out from the herd.

Infused with a surge of self-determination, it bolts for freedom and hoofs it through the streets in a mad dash for freedom.

It happened again on Tuesday. A sheep, apparently bound for death, was seen running along the northern edge of Detroit, primed for execution, with a purple stripe down its back and a numbered tag in its ear.

The sheep ran along E. 8 Mile Road and turned onto Van Dyke, where it scampered into Nortown Collision & Glass Co. Workers there subdued the sheep, but it tried to escape again.

It didn't get very far, ramming into a door made of reinforced glass.

The sheep then stood there, crying like a baby, according to media reports.

Animal control workers picked up the sheep and took it to the city’s animal control center, a police spokesman said. Authorities are trying to contact the sheep's owner.

What should happen to this runaway sheep?

There really is only one answer: Amnesty. It should be granted its freedom. It has shown it wants to live. It should not become lamb stew. Sheep are symbols for Christ -- the Lamb of God, Agnus Dei. The Bible refers to Christ as "like a lamb that is led to slaughter, And like a sheep that is silent before its shearers." (Isaiah 53:7)

Check out the precedent.

In 2003, a steer broke away from a death march into an Eastern Market slaughterhouse and ran for miles through some of the busiest streets in the city, passing waving students and honking motorists. Police finally stopped it with a tranquilizer dart in a vacant lot along E. Jefferson.

After a series of negotiations, the steer wound up at SASHA Farm, the Sanctuary and Safe Haven for Animals near Manchester.

The steer, left, named Jefferson, continues to live at the farm, according to SASHA's website.

It explains:

Like millions of other animals every year raised as food, his short life was about to come to a terrible, brutal end. But Jefferson did something that touched the hearts of thousands of people: He ran. Instead of marching solemnly to his death, he broke free. His courageous escape and subsequent flight down busy Jefferson Avenue captured the attention of the media and the public, and though he was captured, he brought much needed attention to the plight of his bovine brethren.

Jefferson lives with a herd of seven other cows and spends his days happily wandering around his hilly wooded pasture, foraging for tasty foliage or lying in the shade with his bovine family. He's grown quite a bit since his arrival at the sanctuary, but remains a gentle, quiet soul.

Can we expect anything less for the runaway sheep?

http://www.deadlinedetroit.com/articles ... rU.twitter
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