Conservation. It is a word that we hear and throw around often. It is ubiquitous in the media and, in some of us, conjures up a warm feeling, particularly when it flows freely from those that we believe have everything under control, those that we believe will stem the tide of bad news that we repeatedly hear from the so-called wild. While the word conservation sounds pleasing, the concept of conservation is largely misunderstood. Unfortunately, most of us view conservation according only to individual species, and in so doing erringly conclude that as long as those individual species exist in sufficient number, then we may check conservation off of our collective to-do list. Upon a closer and more thorough inspection though, we see that this conclusion is fundamentally and dangerously flawed, and is not only NOT preventing endangerment and extinction, but is also leaving a trail of devastating suffering in its wake.
Perhaps no other single species embodies the issues of endangerment and extinction more than the tiger. Sleek and graceful, powerful and exotic, awe-inspiring and beautiful, the tiger is the very definition of "charismatic mega fauna." And if the bold and beautiful orange and black felines illicit such an intense response in the human animal, the mysterious and perhaps even mystical white tiger captures our attention even more acutely. With its ghostly white appearance and searing blue eyes, the white tiger is difficult to ignore. Furthermore, we humans engage in an ongoing fascination with anything that we consider to be rare; and so, like gold, we value the white tiger for its supposed rarity, and find a ready rationalization for perpetuating its breeding by simply engaging one, perhaps now meaningless, word: conservation. After all, they must be "saved." If the orange and white tigers are facing such a gloomy future in the wild, then surely the rare white tiger is the one in the most trouble, the pinnacle of the endangerment problem, the poster child for the wreckage that the reckless attitudes of human beings have left in what we used to call wild places.
Such is the conclusion that we often collectively come to when we view conservation as an issue that affects only individual species, especially the individual species that we happen to find the most charismatic. The problem with this reasoning is that it fails to consider the bigger picture. Specifically, it fails to include the environment, or habitat, in which these charismatic species live, depend upon for their survival, and in which they each make a significant contribution that belongs uniquely to them.
If the white tiger is the poster child for any issue, it is the poster child for this faulty reasoning. The headlines are all too familiar: this zoo or that performer or this wildlife center is breeding white tigers in order to save them from extinction and restore them to their native habitats. Both the media and the public adore these types of stories, but the heartwarming and short-lived nature of today's news belies the real story that will surface for the white tiger cubs tomorrow. The truth is simple, yet difficult for many people to accept. White tigers are not a species and do not have a native habitat. Tigers do not inhabit any section of the globe in which it would be advantageous for their survival to be white. This includes the Siberian Tiger, which is actually more properly called the Amur tiger, as its habitat is the Amur River Region between China and the Russian far east.
The real story behind white tigers is revealed by the subject that many of us dreaded in high school or collegiate biology: genetics. What we call the "Royal" White Tiger is in fact a genetic anomaly, caused by a double recessive gene occurring so rarely in nature that it is estimated only 1 in every 10,000 tigers born in the wild is white, and not likely to live for very long.* Born with a condition that we call "leucism," the pigment does not color the skin and the fur, and more importantly, robs the animal of one of the main tools for its survival - camouflage. Without the proper coloring, the ambush technique upon which tigers depend for catching food is seriously compromised. We do tigers no service at all by forcing more of them to be white. If anyone were foolish enough to attempt to release a white tiger into any habitat that tigers normally occupy, it would most likely starve to death. Dr. Dan Laughlin, DVM, PhD, who is widely recognized internationally for his expertise in the care and management of zoological animals, has an international consulting practice limited to zoological animals, and fully researched and documented the accurate genealogy and origin of the white tiger in the U.S., states it well (the bold is mine): "...when a deleterious recessive genetic mutation randomly occurs that is disadvantageous for the survival of the animal, such as white color in a tropical jungle environment, the animal does not survive to pass on that genetic mutation or disadvantageous characteristic to its offspring."* In other words, cruel as it may sound, nature is not providing a place for the white tiger.
If nature is designed in such a way as to prevent the survival of genetic mutations that are a danger to the survival of an entire species, then why do we see white tigers in shows, zoos, circuses, carnivals, and wildlife centers across America? Once again, we find our answer in genetics, and in this case, its uglier side. How do we circumvent the laws of nature to create more animals for which nature does not provide a home? We don't. We simply bend the laws of nature to our own wills. We engage in a practice with animals that we would never dream of doing purposely with humans. We inbreed them. Those of us that survived the genetics section of those dreaded biology courses know that genetic diversity is vital to the health of both individuals and entire populations of species. The most critically endangered feline species and subspecies, such as the South China Tiger and the Amur Leopard, are considered to be functionally extinct by some experts because with numbers as low as 20 or 30, inbreeding is inevitable. Yet in the case of the white tiger, the breeding of mothers to sons, brothers to sisters, and fathers to daughters and grand-daughters is commonplace.
According to Dr. Laughlin, in addition to the now famous and severely inbred line of white Bengal tigers that can be traced back to Mohan, a white tiger taken as a cub out of the wild in 1951 and bred back to his daughter and grand-daughters,
"there is a second and separate origin of the white tiger which occurred spontaneously in two separate private collections in this country, when both owners inbred brothers to sisters that were all offspring of two litters resulting from crossing a pure Siberian male and a Bengal female at a small zoo in South Dakota." In any case, inbreeding is a necessary ingredient of the recipe for white tigers, and there is a price to be paid for it.
White tigers endure a host of health problems about which the public is largely unaware. These include immune system deficiencies that cause many to live miserable and short lives, scoliosis of the spine, hip dysplasia, neurological disorders, cleft palates, and protruding, bulging eyes. Eighty percent of all white tigers are stillborn; many of the ones that survive are too deformed to put on display. Out of the ones that look pretty, according to some tiger trainers, only 1 in 30 will consistently perform.* White tigers are at the mercy of a double-edged sword; they are often preferred by trainers because, as fundamentally sick animals, they are very dependent upon humans. On the other hand, the relentless inbreeding takes its toll on their mental capacity, rendering them unreliable as performers. At this point someone must be faced with the question rarely asked by the reporters who happily recount the birth of the cubs: what now? What happens to the 29 out of 30 white tigers that were too dull and sick to perform? We know by the former discussion that they could not have been, and will never be, released into the wild. Tracing their fate is exceedingly difficult, but the paths in front of them are bleak to say the least. The lucky ones will find permanent homes in accredited sanctuaries, but the majority will either be killed or sold to traveling zoos, circuses, and wildlife centers, living lives in quarters that are often cramped, filthy, and rarely inspected.
There is yet another side to this sad story. What becomes of the orange and white cubs (by far the majority) born to parents who were specifically paired to render the desirable white coloring? As with the unwanted whites, their fate is difficult to trace, but will most likely include becoming victims of canned hunts, being sold into the exotic pet trade to live out their lives as breeding animals, or being killed, dismembered, and their parts shipped to be sold in Asian markets. Virtually none of them will join their wild counterparts for the purpose of re-populating their severely dwindling numbers. They will never see the wild lands from which their forebears were taken, and as such, will never really know what it is like to be tigers.
Meanwhile, healthy wild tigers, able to engage in the activities for which tigers were designed and assume their role in carefully balanced ecosystems that depend on them as much as any other life form within them, disappear at alarming rates. Just one hundred years ago, there were approximately 100,000 tigers living in the wild; some experts estimate that fewer than 3,500 individuals roam the forests of our world, from India to southeast Asia to the Amur River region, today. Three subspecies of tigers are gone forever, and the South China tiger is well on its way to joining their ranks.
If the relentless breeding of white tigers has nothing to do with conservation, and the resulting animals are sick and live lives in captivity at best and suffer small quarters and little veterinary care at worst, then why do people continue to breed them? The answer is simple. When the genetic line to which Dr. Laughlin refers was continued and promulgated by the Cincinnati Zoo, the resulting cubs fetched as much as $60,000 each, the beginning of many, many more thousands of dollars that have passed through countless hands and yet still do not lead the endangered tiger back to its rightful home. Countless thousands of dollars that do nothing to stop the poaching of wild tigers. Countless thousands of dollars that do nothing to stave off the destruction of wild tiger habitats. Countless thousands of dollars that only serve to keep wild, dignified creatures behind bars. Do we really value genetic mutations more than the habitat in which healthy wild tigers live and thrive?
Dr. Laughlin believes that "The genealogical misrepresentation, repeated inbreeding, exhibition and sale, for $60,000 each, of white tigers by the Cincinnati Zoo initiated the greatest conservation deception of the American public in history. That deception continues through today. In my view, exhibiting and breeding white tigers is the very antithesis of conservation, is dishonest and unethical and is tantamount to catering to the public's desire to see genetic aberrations rather than educating the public regarding the incredible process of natural selection, how the unbelievable diversity of life has evolved on our planet throughout the past 50 million years and the crucial need for us to preserve natural habitats and stop the destruction of our global ecosystem if we desire to save any threatened or endangered species from extinction."
The insidiousness of this deception is that the heartwarming stories of individual cubs being born again and again creates the illusion that we are doing something. It creates the illusion that the so-called experts are solving the problems that we create with our own complacency. It is time to face the issue squarely. There can be no conservation of species without conservation of habitats, and there can be no conservation of habitats without conservation of entire ecosystems; therefore we are accountable for how our actions affect those ecosystems, in every choice that we make. Conservation. It is not about the white tiger. It is about us.
Will our fascination with tigers give them back the dignified, free life that they had earned by surviving every hardship nature threw at them before we came along? Or will we be satisfied that we have done our job by having enough of them living in cages, performing tricks, and dazzling us with genetic deformities we would never dream of perpetuating in humans? If we choose the second option then there is one more reality that we must be willing to accept. If we pull the animals that we like out of the sinking ship that is their destroyed habitat and call it a day, every single solitary species that we did NOT find charismatic goes down with that ship, and with them the history of the natural world, and answers to questions that we perhaps no longer deem fundamental because we have so thoroughly removed ourselves from that world. It begs the question, if a tiger can't know who he or she really is, how can we know who we really are?
Sharyn Beach
*http://www.bigcatrescue.org/cats/wild/white_tigers_genetics.htm
*http://www.bigcatrescue.org/cats/wild/white_tigers_fraud.htm
*http://www.bigcatrescue.org/cats/wild/white_tigers.htm
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Colleen Patrick Goudreau's Prayer
Today I would like to share "Prayer for Humans on Behalf of Animals" by Colleen Patrick-Goudreau, a dynamic writer, speaker, chef, and all-around beautiful person! I offer it up as a holiday prayer for all creatures, human and non-human alike, this holiday season.
A Prayer for Humans on Behalf of Animals
My hope is that we can navigate through this world and our lives with the grace and integrity of those who need our protection. May we have the sense of humor and liveliness of the goats; may we have the maternal instincts and protective nature of the hens and the sassiness of the roosters. May we have the gentleness and strength of the cattle, and the wisdom, humility, and serenity of the donkeys. May we appreciate the need for community as do the sheep and choose our companions as carefully as do the rabbits. May we have the faithfulness and commitment to family of the geese, the adaptability and affability of the ducks. May we have the intelligence, loyalty, and affection of the pigs and the inquisitiveness, sensitivity, and playfulness of the turkeys.
My hope is that we learn from the animals what it is we need to become better people.
~Colleen Patrick-Goudreau
To find out more about Colleen and her work, visit CompassionateCooks.com
A Prayer for Humans on Behalf of Animals
My hope is that we can navigate through this world and our lives with the grace and integrity of those who need our protection. May we have the sense of humor and liveliness of the goats; may we have the maternal instincts and protective nature of the hens and the sassiness of the roosters. May we have the gentleness and strength of the cattle, and the wisdom, humility, and serenity of the donkeys. May we appreciate the need for community as do the sheep and choose our companions as carefully as do the rabbits. May we have the faithfulness and commitment to family of the geese, the adaptability and affability of the ducks. May we have the intelligence, loyalty, and affection of the pigs and the inquisitiveness, sensitivity, and playfulness of the turkeys.
My hope is that we learn from the animals what it is we need to become better people.
~Colleen Patrick-Goudreau
To find out more about Colleen and her work, visit CompassionateCooks.com
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Courteously Deferential Apathy
“Every snowflake in an avalanche pleads not guilty.”
Stanislaw J. Lec
When I was in the seventh grade, I did volunteer work for the Humane Society in order to fulfill service hours for my school. My job was to make phone calls about animals that had been left at the shelter, and my supervisor used to comment about how hard I worked. My mother was so proud. Garnering respect for rescuing cats and dogs is a “no-brainer.” Who could hate someone who cares for animals?
Twenty years ago, when I became a vegetarian, I realized the answer to that question. Family, friends, and acquaintances suddenly decided that I “had some ‘splainin’ to do.” Since then, I have encountered every argument and reaction from the lame to the ridiculous, with some arguments being so much so that I suppose I appeared to be surrendering because the “reasoning” I was offered was so ludicrous I didn’t even know where to begin.
I have also encountered the full range of emotional reactions. Some think veganism is interesting, but others become defensive and still others become angry. The anger usually takes the form of ridicule, as it so often does in so many situations. Ridicule is easy, accessible, and effective. Scorn is something that many will shun even more than they will bursts of rage, because scorn is insidious in its presentation and difficult to diffuse. Rage only makes the angry person seem more transparent, but ridicule makes perfectly serious, legitimate ideas seem trivial and frivolous. Scornful jokes succeed in distracting people from the real issue and belittling those who dared to bring up the issue in the first place.
After twenty years, I have become more and more adept at dealing with such reactions, perhaps in part because vegetarianism has become more widespread and in part because I am not as affected by negative reactions as I once was. I am especially amused by those who believe they are offering up an argument that I have never heard before. Oh no, I have NEVER heard the “people are starving in India because they can’t kill a cow” routine. But that is for another essay altogether.
At this point in my journey, I can handle most of the common rationalizations, except one. Now, the most infuriating, maddening, discouraging, and disheartening response is one that I will label “courteously deferential apathy.” It is not open scorn; it is not anger or defensiveness; nor is it ridicule. It is the quietly patronizing pat-on-the-head. “Isn’t it nice that you care about the little animals? Good luck with your cause. I am so glad that you found a project to fill up your time.” While scorn is difficult to recognize when doled out by those who have mastered it as a tool, it still amounts to a hatefulness that most of us can detect at least as an unnamed droning background noise lingering in the back of our minds. The insidiousness of courteously deferential apathy lies in its ability to make the scornful trivialization of important issues seem like a compliment. It is still, ultimately, a defense mechanism, one of the myriad ways in which we shield ourselves from the truth. It is tantamount to saying, “I think it’s sweet that you are concerned about these things, but don’t expect me to feel the same way.”
Such pleasant (and convenient) platitudes are missing the point. I have some news that some readers may find shocking. I DO expect you to feel the same way. I do not refer to the meaning of the word “expect” as “to demand something.” I refer to the meaning of “expect” as anticipating a certain event based on past experiences. Those past experiences include the pride that my family felt when I volunteered at the Humane Society, the rescued animals that so many of my friends and acquaintances have adopted, the stray cat that my family members took to the vet and spent more than $200 on, the frightened cat that one of my former roommates spent hours coaxing out of a tree, the dog that one of my friends brought home because he found it hanging around a gas station with a metal wire around its neck. The list goes on and on. It is what is commonly referred to as “the milk of human kindness” that causes us to respond to situations that we find unworkable or intolerable, especially situations in which we find others, human and non-human, abandoned or in pain.
So anyone out there who is considering using the “you can care about animals but I don’t” argument may as well drop it, because I’m not buying it. Herein lies the fundamental flaw of courteously deferential apathy; it assumes that those who speak out for animals have some special emotion, or some special access to emotions and sentiments that others just don’t have. The above examples are just a small sampling of evidence that this simply isn’t true. Let me illustrate with a story.
A few years ago, when my husband and I were walking from our apartment door to our car, we heard a dog whimpering. We searched for the source of the sound and finally realized it was coming from the swimming pool. A puppy had fallen into the freezing water (it was November) in the pool and could not get out because its back legs were still too short to clear the distance from the top step to the lip of the concrete around the pool. Its two front paws were out of the pool while the back half of its body was in the pool, and it was struggling to get out, to no avail. Because it was winter, the gate to the pool was locked. My husband climbed over the locked gate and got the shivering puppy out of the pool and we took it to the manager’s office, where the custodian, whom we had come to know, said he would take it home.
Are my husband, myself, and that custodian somehow “special?” Are we different than anyone else? How many people really would have ignored that puppy’s cry for help? No, I am not naïve enough to believe that there are not people who would have walked away, but I am speaking to the people reading this that I KNOW are caring, compassionate people. It is utterly natural to respond to calls for help that come from other people and also from non-human animals, which is why I expect that most people would (and do) respond. When we see people sick or injured, what do we do? We call 911. We try to relieve their pain. We do all we can for them, and we don’t need a reason. We do it without thinking, because we care. Period.
Yet, when the cry for help is faint and comes from a distant slaughterhouse that most people would never choose to visit or even read about, we find it very easy to ignore the call. Are the pleas for mercy that come from animals that will end up on someone’s dinner plate somehow less valid and less legitimate than the pleas of a cat or a dog? Why, precisely, do we choose NOT to respond in this situation?
The answer is simple – because it’s just too painful. You see, the puppy probably fell into the pool by accident. While it was suffering to some degree, it only suffered because it tripped over its own circumstances, not because someone purposely tried to hurt it. In such a case, it is easy to be the Good Samaritan.
Those distant cries coming from the slaughterhouse are another story entirely. They issue from the one thing that we fear the most – the darker side of humanity. The mysterious and scary side that motivates some people towards unspeakable abuses, including kicking, punching, stabbing, hanging, burning, scalding, and skinning animals alive. And the cries are not just coming from the animals; they are also coming from the people who have the unfortunate job of carrying out tasks that result in constant bloodshed, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. It is a far, far more brutal life than most people imagine. In some of the larger “processing plants,” which is where 90% of animal food comes from, the “stickers” will slice the throats of between 900 and 1200 pigs every HOUR. They are literally covered in, and surrounded by, blood (among other bodily fluids) all day, every day.
Feeling a little lightheaded? I am. I know what some of you are thinking. “Stop being so melodramatic. It’s not THAT bad. Those people just get used to it.” That is precisely the problem. You think they leave the violence behind in the slaughterhouse? NOW who is being naïve? It is extremely difficult to keep one’s cool when one is being screamed at and berated all day, and then being given free range to take out one’s aggressions on defenseless animals. Is violence something we are supposed to just get used to? There is only one way to get used to it, and that is to cut oneself off from one’s own feelings, to cut oneself off from that connection that makes us respond to cries for help without a thought for our own welfare.
This is why I simply cannot buy the “it’s OK for you to care but don’t expect me to” argument. Sorry, but you cannot get off the hook that easily. I expect people to care. I expect them to care because I know that they DO care, whether they want to admit it or not. I do not speak for animals because it is “my special thing,” or because it is fun, or to make a fashion statement, or to ruin someone else’s day. I speak for animals because they called to me for help and their pain drove me into action. I speak for animals because the reckless abuse, neglect, and endangerment of them violates a fundamental, universal law of connection, the connection that causes us to cringe when we see others in pain and to rejoice when we see them flourish. We cannot keep ignoring their cries for mercy forever without injuring ourselves in the process. And we cannot deprive others of the dignity of meaningful work by asking them to commit acts on our behalf that few of us would be willing to do for ourselves.
It is time to open the doors of the slaughterhouse and look inside. It is time to face the stench and the bloody reality. It is time to, literally, wake up and smell what we are shoveling. We have to stop pushing it away into dark corners because we can’t bear to look at it. A plea for help that is muffled by thick, steel doors is still a plea for help, and if we are still human at all, we will respond. ALL of us.
Sharyn Beach
Stanislaw J. Lec
When I was in the seventh grade, I did volunteer work for the Humane Society in order to fulfill service hours for my school. My job was to make phone calls about animals that had been left at the shelter, and my supervisor used to comment about how hard I worked. My mother was so proud. Garnering respect for rescuing cats and dogs is a “no-brainer.” Who could hate someone who cares for animals?
Twenty years ago, when I became a vegetarian, I realized the answer to that question. Family, friends, and acquaintances suddenly decided that I “had some ‘splainin’ to do.” Since then, I have encountered every argument and reaction from the lame to the ridiculous, with some arguments being so much so that I suppose I appeared to be surrendering because the “reasoning” I was offered was so ludicrous I didn’t even know where to begin.
I have also encountered the full range of emotional reactions. Some think veganism is interesting, but others become defensive and still others become angry. The anger usually takes the form of ridicule, as it so often does in so many situations. Ridicule is easy, accessible, and effective. Scorn is something that many will shun even more than they will bursts of rage, because scorn is insidious in its presentation and difficult to diffuse. Rage only makes the angry person seem more transparent, but ridicule makes perfectly serious, legitimate ideas seem trivial and frivolous. Scornful jokes succeed in distracting people from the real issue and belittling those who dared to bring up the issue in the first place.
After twenty years, I have become more and more adept at dealing with such reactions, perhaps in part because vegetarianism has become more widespread and in part because I am not as affected by negative reactions as I once was. I am especially amused by those who believe they are offering up an argument that I have never heard before. Oh no, I have NEVER heard the “people are starving in India because they can’t kill a cow” routine. But that is for another essay altogether.
At this point in my journey, I can handle most of the common rationalizations, except one. Now, the most infuriating, maddening, discouraging, and disheartening response is one that I will label “courteously deferential apathy.” It is not open scorn; it is not anger or defensiveness; nor is it ridicule. It is the quietly patronizing pat-on-the-head. “Isn’t it nice that you care about the little animals? Good luck with your cause. I am so glad that you found a project to fill up your time.” While scorn is difficult to recognize when doled out by those who have mastered it as a tool, it still amounts to a hatefulness that most of us can detect at least as an unnamed droning background noise lingering in the back of our minds. The insidiousness of courteously deferential apathy lies in its ability to make the scornful trivialization of important issues seem like a compliment. It is still, ultimately, a defense mechanism, one of the myriad ways in which we shield ourselves from the truth. It is tantamount to saying, “I think it’s sweet that you are concerned about these things, but don’t expect me to feel the same way.”
Such pleasant (and convenient) platitudes are missing the point. I have some news that some readers may find shocking. I DO expect you to feel the same way. I do not refer to the meaning of the word “expect” as “to demand something.” I refer to the meaning of “expect” as anticipating a certain event based on past experiences. Those past experiences include the pride that my family felt when I volunteered at the Humane Society, the rescued animals that so many of my friends and acquaintances have adopted, the stray cat that my family members took to the vet and spent more than $200 on, the frightened cat that one of my former roommates spent hours coaxing out of a tree, the dog that one of my friends brought home because he found it hanging around a gas station with a metal wire around its neck. The list goes on and on. It is what is commonly referred to as “the milk of human kindness” that causes us to respond to situations that we find unworkable or intolerable, especially situations in which we find others, human and non-human, abandoned or in pain.
So anyone out there who is considering using the “you can care about animals but I don’t” argument may as well drop it, because I’m not buying it. Herein lies the fundamental flaw of courteously deferential apathy; it assumes that those who speak out for animals have some special emotion, or some special access to emotions and sentiments that others just don’t have. The above examples are just a small sampling of evidence that this simply isn’t true. Let me illustrate with a story.
A few years ago, when my husband and I were walking from our apartment door to our car, we heard a dog whimpering. We searched for the source of the sound and finally realized it was coming from the swimming pool. A puppy had fallen into the freezing water (it was November) in the pool and could not get out because its back legs were still too short to clear the distance from the top step to the lip of the concrete around the pool. Its two front paws were out of the pool while the back half of its body was in the pool, and it was struggling to get out, to no avail. Because it was winter, the gate to the pool was locked. My husband climbed over the locked gate and got the shivering puppy out of the pool and we took it to the manager’s office, where the custodian, whom we had come to know, said he would take it home.
Are my husband, myself, and that custodian somehow “special?” Are we different than anyone else? How many people really would have ignored that puppy’s cry for help? No, I am not naïve enough to believe that there are not people who would have walked away, but I am speaking to the people reading this that I KNOW are caring, compassionate people. It is utterly natural to respond to calls for help that come from other people and also from non-human animals, which is why I expect that most people would (and do) respond. When we see people sick or injured, what do we do? We call 911. We try to relieve their pain. We do all we can for them, and we don’t need a reason. We do it without thinking, because we care. Period.
Yet, when the cry for help is faint and comes from a distant slaughterhouse that most people would never choose to visit or even read about, we find it very easy to ignore the call. Are the pleas for mercy that come from animals that will end up on someone’s dinner plate somehow less valid and less legitimate than the pleas of a cat or a dog? Why, precisely, do we choose NOT to respond in this situation?
The answer is simple – because it’s just too painful. You see, the puppy probably fell into the pool by accident. While it was suffering to some degree, it only suffered because it tripped over its own circumstances, not because someone purposely tried to hurt it. In such a case, it is easy to be the Good Samaritan.
Those distant cries coming from the slaughterhouse are another story entirely. They issue from the one thing that we fear the most – the darker side of humanity. The mysterious and scary side that motivates some people towards unspeakable abuses, including kicking, punching, stabbing, hanging, burning, scalding, and skinning animals alive. And the cries are not just coming from the animals; they are also coming from the people who have the unfortunate job of carrying out tasks that result in constant bloodshed, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. It is a far, far more brutal life than most people imagine. In some of the larger “processing plants,” which is where 90% of animal food comes from, the “stickers” will slice the throats of between 900 and 1200 pigs every HOUR. They are literally covered in, and surrounded by, blood (among other bodily fluids) all day, every day.
Feeling a little lightheaded? I am. I know what some of you are thinking. “Stop being so melodramatic. It’s not THAT bad. Those people just get used to it.” That is precisely the problem. You think they leave the violence behind in the slaughterhouse? NOW who is being naïve? It is extremely difficult to keep one’s cool when one is being screamed at and berated all day, and then being given free range to take out one’s aggressions on defenseless animals. Is violence something we are supposed to just get used to? There is only one way to get used to it, and that is to cut oneself off from one’s own feelings, to cut oneself off from that connection that makes us respond to cries for help without a thought for our own welfare.
This is why I simply cannot buy the “it’s OK for you to care but don’t expect me to” argument. Sorry, but you cannot get off the hook that easily. I expect people to care. I expect them to care because I know that they DO care, whether they want to admit it or not. I do not speak for animals because it is “my special thing,” or because it is fun, or to make a fashion statement, or to ruin someone else’s day. I speak for animals because they called to me for help and their pain drove me into action. I speak for animals because the reckless abuse, neglect, and endangerment of them violates a fundamental, universal law of connection, the connection that causes us to cringe when we see others in pain and to rejoice when we see them flourish. We cannot keep ignoring their cries for mercy forever without injuring ourselves in the process. And we cannot deprive others of the dignity of meaningful work by asking them to commit acts on our behalf that few of us would be willing to do for ourselves.
It is time to open the doors of the slaughterhouse and look inside. It is time to face the stench and the bloody reality. It is time to, literally, wake up and smell what we are shoveling. We have to stop pushing it away into dark corners because we can’t bear to look at it. A plea for help that is muffled by thick, steel doors is still a plea for help, and if we are still human at all, we will respond. ALL of us.
Sharyn Beach
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Prairie Dogs in the Great Plains
Here is a letter I wrote to my lawmakers about the EPA's recent efforts to approve poisons that will kill prairie dogs in the Great Plains by causing them to slowly and painfully bleed to death. It's time we started caring.....
The first paragraph and last line were composed by Defenders of Wildlife, the rest is mine:
As someone who cares about wildlife and environmental health, I'm writing to strongly oppose the Environmental Protection Agency's efforts to register Kaput-D for use in eradicating prairie dogs in ten states across the Great Plains. The Environmental Protection Agency should not approve Kaput-D, and should immediately rescind its May 2009 approval of Rozol, a similar poison used to kill prairie dogs.
I remember feeding prairie dogs on a trip to the Great Plains many years ago; they were a major draw for visitors in the Badlands, and, like the bison, are a part of the landscape. That experience stands out to me as one of the great experiences of my life, and a moment when I felt humble and grateful to live in this land. I cannot imagine supporting anything that would so ruthlessly and carelessly destroy these animals, and I cannot imagine the Great Plains without prairie dogs.
It's time we stopped believing that we can poison our way out of our problems. It's time we stopped thinking that we can continue to engage in the destructive habits that we engage in and then simply apply a chemical to repair the damage. And it's time we stopped looking upon every other living thing in this world as a nuisance that is in our way and needs to be destroyed.
How long can this go on? Seriously. How many species do we have to obliterate before we are comfortable enough? How much violence will we heap upon other creatures before we realize that we cannot harm them without also harming ourselves?
We are subject to natural laws that are unchanging, and we are playing Russian roulette with things that we don't understand nearly as much as we think we do.
They are not just a bunch of stupid animals. They matter, and their fate is tied with ours, whether we recognize it or not.
Americans care about wildlife in America. We do not want to see them poisoned at all, and we especially do not want to see them subject to the slow and painful deaths associated with these chemicals.
Please withdraw the efforts to use these biocides on our prairie dogs.
Thank you for considering my views on this urgent matter. I look forward to your reply.
Sharyn Beach
The first paragraph and last line were composed by Defenders of Wildlife, the rest is mine:
As someone who cares about wildlife and environmental health, I'm writing to strongly oppose the Environmental Protection Agency's efforts to register Kaput-D for use in eradicating prairie dogs in ten states across the Great Plains. The Environmental Protection Agency should not approve Kaput-D, and should immediately rescind its May 2009 approval of Rozol, a similar poison used to kill prairie dogs.
I remember feeding prairie dogs on a trip to the Great Plains many years ago; they were a major draw for visitors in the Badlands, and, like the bison, are a part of the landscape. That experience stands out to me as one of the great experiences of my life, and a moment when I felt humble and grateful to live in this land. I cannot imagine supporting anything that would so ruthlessly and carelessly destroy these animals, and I cannot imagine the Great Plains without prairie dogs.
It's time we stopped believing that we can poison our way out of our problems. It's time we stopped thinking that we can continue to engage in the destructive habits that we engage in and then simply apply a chemical to repair the damage. And it's time we stopped looking upon every other living thing in this world as a nuisance that is in our way and needs to be destroyed.
How long can this go on? Seriously. How many species do we have to obliterate before we are comfortable enough? How much violence will we heap upon other creatures before we realize that we cannot harm them without also harming ourselves?
We are subject to natural laws that are unchanging, and we are playing Russian roulette with things that we don't understand nearly as much as we think we do.
They are not just a bunch of stupid animals. They matter, and their fate is tied with ours, whether we recognize it or not.
Americans care about wildlife in America. We do not want to see them poisoned at all, and we especially do not want to see them subject to the slow and painful deaths associated with these chemicals.
Please withdraw the efforts to use these biocides on our prairie dogs.
Thank you for considering my views on this urgent matter. I look forward to your reply.
Sharyn Beach
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Comment on "My Monkey Baby"
Today I am posting a short comment I made about a show on TLC called "My Monkey Baby." The show features a couple who keep a monkey as a pet, dressing it up in baby clothes and taking it with them everywhere they go. They become offended if someone calls it a pet; they insist that it is their baby.
There are many comments posted, some saying that this is cruel, and others saying it is not cruel because the people are protecting the animals from all of the dangers and discomforts of the wild. I plan to write a longer essay addressing the fallacy of this argument, but for now, here is the comment I posted on TLC's website:
"Wild animals are dignified, self-sufficient creatures with complicated needs that are best met by living with their own kind. Research and common sense reveal that primates especially need the social interaction of their respective species. No matter how safe we are keeping them from the elements when we put them in our houses or in cages, when we do so we corrupt their dignity by taking away their choices. Our own children face all kinds of dangers and risks out in the world, but we don't lock them up in their bedrooms for the rest of their lives. We don't do this because we know that if we do, we deny them the opportunity to be who they really are. It is not a wild animal's job to fulfill our human need to be needed. We are decimating wild populations of animals with this foolishness. It is time to face the truth: wild animals do not now, nor have they ever, nor will they ever, belong to us. They are not our children or our property. If we really love them, we will restore their rightful homes that we destroyed and allow them to live peacefully within them."
Sharyn Beach
There are many comments posted, some saying that this is cruel, and others saying it is not cruel because the people are protecting the animals from all of the dangers and discomforts of the wild. I plan to write a longer essay addressing the fallacy of this argument, but for now, here is the comment I posted on TLC's website:
"Wild animals are dignified, self-sufficient creatures with complicated needs that are best met by living with their own kind. Research and common sense reveal that primates especially need the social interaction of their respective species. No matter how safe we are keeping them from the elements when we put them in our houses or in cages, when we do so we corrupt their dignity by taking away their choices. Our own children face all kinds of dangers and risks out in the world, but we don't lock them up in their bedrooms for the rest of their lives. We don't do this because we know that if we do, we deny them the opportunity to be who they really are. It is not a wild animal's job to fulfill our human need to be needed. We are decimating wild populations of animals with this foolishness. It is time to face the truth: wild animals do not now, nor have they ever, nor will they ever, belong to us. They are not our children or our property. If we really love them, we will restore their rightful homes that we destroyed and allow them to live peacefully within them."
Sharyn Beach
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Cuddle a Tiger, Save a Species?
Today I am posting a letter I wrote to a reporter who did a story about some elementary school children adopting a tiger from Tiger World, in an effort to educate the children and lend a hand to conserving an endangered species. Their adopted tiger was actually brought into their classroom, and several of the children commented that they would like to take the tiger home with them. Here is what I wrote:
Dear Chris,
I read with great interest your piece about Moss Hill Elementary adopting a tiger from Tiger World. While I appreciate the efforts of anyone, especially school children, to save endangered species, I must say that my heart was not warmed by the comments of some of the children that they would like to take the tiger home with them. To me, this represents a fundamental cultural change in the way we perceive nature that is not at all cute or sweet, but rather alarming. What exactly are we teaching them?
When I was growing up, it was my father who instilled in me a respect for nature - I used to think the National Geographic specials that he watched all weekend were boring. I never realized the influence he was having in my life, but I can say one thing for sure - I never, ever wanted to take a tiger home with me, cub or not. I understood and respected their power, and I knew that they had a place, and that place was not at home with me, or in anyone else's home for that matter.
This is the reason that I have been appalled over the last few years to discover the presence and magnitude of the exotic animal trade in our country and worldwide, a trade in which people are actually duped into believing that a tiger (or any other wild animal) can make a good pet. What I have learned is that there is a cycle of wild animals being moved around, from this place to that, through dozens of different people's hands, and yet never, ever finding their way back home, in spite of all the happy promises from so-called sanctuaries that all of their efforts are for conservation or education. What happens in truth is that the animals are viewed as a commodity, and their needs are often neglected or they are just downright abused. They are taken from their mothers, dragged around to malls, fairs, and carnivals, posed for photo ops, and thrown in a cage and forgotten when they aren't working. They are then bred to bring in a new generation and sold off or killed when they are spent. In short, just like puppies, they are being "milled."
But do we really have to be told about all this abuse to understand how utterly unnatural all of this is to a wild animal? Have you ever seen anyone come back with pictures from an African Safari, arm-in-arm with a wild lion? What does it take for us to understand that they can only be engaging in such things against their wills? Anyone who has seen the conditions that many of these animals live in usually walks away appalled, horrified, and heartbroken, and resolves that they will have none of it. They will not support anyone or anything who is lending a hand to keeping this cycle in motion. Any person or organization who claims to love and want to conserve animals should be shouting from the rooftops that this madness must stop, and they certainly would not be adding to the cycle by continuing to breed more animals or by obtaining them from those who do breed them. Some so-called sanctuaries may indeed care for their animals well, but if they breed animals or buy cubs from those who do, they are keeping this trade going and are being dishonest with themselves, with one another, and with the public.
I am not trying to question the honest desire of schoolchildren to save endangered species, nor am I questioning the integrity of the teachers who so faithfully guide them. I am questioning the validity of anything that suggests to the next generation that a tiger is something that we can, or should even want to, take home with us. I am also questioning the legitimacy of the idea that the relentless breeding (and consequent buying, selling, and trading) of exotic animals will save them from extinction. There are now more tigers living in residential basements and backyards than there are living in the wild, and yet the news from their native habitats repeats the same tired knell - for the wild tiger, it's five minutes to midnight.
If we really want to help our kids help animals, then we must ask ourselves some tough questions. Where does a tiger really belong? There is really only one answer - in the wild. And what is the connection between captive breeding and conservation? In almost all cases, there just isn't one. The subspecies' bloodlines have been so thoroughly mixed (to get the resulting characteristics that humans want) that they no longer have any connection to their respective habitats - they are virtually unreleasable. They will never see the wild lands from which their forebears were taken.
I know most news stories are not intended to be exposes, but must we confuse the next generation with these mixed messages? They've got their work cut out for them as it is; if we want them to have any hope of solving the looming crises that they will inherit from us, the truth is a weapon they will not long survive without.
Please help true conservation efforts by telling the truth about wild animals. Tigers belong in the wild, not in photo shoots, not on leashes, not in our yards, and not in our classrooms. What they need is protected wild lands - and for us to get out of their way.
Sincerely,
Sharyn Beach
Dear Chris,
I read with great interest your piece about Moss Hill Elementary adopting a tiger from Tiger World. While I appreciate the efforts of anyone, especially school children, to save endangered species, I must say that my heart was not warmed by the comments of some of the children that they would like to take the tiger home with them. To me, this represents a fundamental cultural change in the way we perceive nature that is not at all cute or sweet, but rather alarming. What exactly are we teaching them?
When I was growing up, it was my father who instilled in me a respect for nature - I used to think the National Geographic specials that he watched all weekend were boring. I never realized the influence he was having in my life, but I can say one thing for sure - I never, ever wanted to take a tiger home with me, cub or not. I understood and respected their power, and I knew that they had a place, and that place was not at home with me, or in anyone else's home for that matter.
This is the reason that I have been appalled over the last few years to discover the presence and magnitude of the exotic animal trade in our country and worldwide, a trade in which people are actually duped into believing that a tiger (or any other wild animal) can make a good pet. What I have learned is that there is a cycle of wild animals being moved around, from this place to that, through dozens of different people's hands, and yet never, ever finding their way back home, in spite of all the happy promises from so-called sanctuaries that all of their efforts are for conservation or education. What happens in truth is that the animals are viewed as a commodity, and their needs are often neglected or they are just downright abused. They are taken from their mothers, dragged around to malls, fairs, and carnivals, posed for photo ops, and thrown in a cage and forgotten when they aren't working. They are then bred to bring in a new generation and sold off or killed when they are spent. In short, just like puppies, they are being "milled."
But do we really have to be told about all this abuse to understand how utterly unnatural all of this is to a wild animal? Have you ever seen anyone come back with pictures from an African Safari, arm-in-arm with a wild lion? What does it take for us to understand that they can only be engaging in such things against their wills? Anyone who has seen the conditions that many of these animals live in usually walks away appalled, horrified, and heartbroken, and resolves that they will have none of it. They will not support anyone or anything who is lending a hand to keeping this cycle in motion. Any person or organization who claims to love and want to conserve animals should be shouting from the rooftops that this madness must stop, and they certainly would not be adding to the cycle by continuing to breed more animals or by obtaining them from those who do breed them. Some so-called sanctuaries may indeed care for their animals well, but if they breed animals or buy cubs from those who do, they are keeping this trade going and are being dishonest with themselves, with one another, and with the public.
I am not trying to question the honest desire of schoolchildren to save endangered species, nor am I questioning the integrity of the teachers who so faithfully guide them. I am questioning the validity of anything that suggests to the next generation that a tiger is something that we can, or should even want to, take home with us. I am also questioning the legitimacy of the idea that the relentless breeding (and consequent buying, selling, and trading) of exotic animals will save them from extinction. There are now more tigers living in residential basements and backyards than there are living in the wild, and yet the news from their native habitats repeats the same tired knell - for the wild tiger, it's five minutes to midnight.
If we really want to help our kids help animals, then we must ask ourselves some tough questions. Where does a tiger really belong? There is really only one answer - in the wild. And what is the connection between captive breeding and conservation? In almost all cases, there just isn't one. The subspecies' bloodlines have been so thoroughly mixed (to get the resulting characteristics that humans want) that they no longer have any connection to their respective habitats - they are virtually unreleasable. They will never see the wild lands from which their forebears were taken.
I know most news stories are not intended to be exposes, but must we confuse the next generation with these mixed messages? They've got their work cut out for them as it is; if we want them to have any hope of solving the looming crises that they will inherit from us, the truth is a weapon they will not long survive without.
Please help true conservation efforts by telling the truth about wild animals. Tigers belong in the wild, not in photo shoots, not on leashes, not in our yards, and not in our classrooms. What they need is protected wild lands - and for us to get out of their way.
Sincerely,
Sharyn Beach
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sanctuary
Today I am posting a poem I wrote for Big Cat Rescue, a sanctuary dedicated to providing a permanent place for abused and unwanted exotic cats, mostly cast offs from the exotic pet trade. I dedicate it to Nikita the lioness, pictured above, who came to Big Cat Rescue after police found her chained to a wall in a crack house in Tennessee. I dedicate it with the tenacious hope that human beings will stop rationalizing, that we will wake up and realize that making living creatures into a commodity, even if we treat them well, is not saving them from extinction. It is not saving them from anything but their own freedom and dignity. For Nikita and so many like her, having been made into little more than slaves, sanctuary is the best we can give to them. The best we can give to their kind is to give them the space to be who they are, in their own habitat. A cage is not a home.
Sanctuary
Abandoned, forgotten, neglected, abused
Forsaken, dismissed, mistreated, misused
The worthy, the beautiful, the graceful, the tall
The courageous, the cunning, the secretive, the small
Find refuge and comfort and safety herein
And voices who shout the unspoken within
In sanctuary finding they are never alone
Until hands warm and tender, point the way home
Sharyn Beach
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