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This site built and maintained by: Greanville Associates Rev. 3.26.03 Copyright ANIMAL PEOPLE, INC. 1992--2003
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OCTOBER 2004 BOOKS
Readers familiar with Charles Dickens’ Hard Times will recognize in the rhetoric of opposition to animal rights many of the same arguments used by Victorian capitalists in opposition to public education, care for the destitute, and female emancipation.
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The Case for Animal
Rights, 2004 edition by Tom Regan
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Moral philosophy tends to cause the general reader to either fall asleep or develop a headache.
Knowing this, Tom Regan in 2002 produced a demystified,
simplified version of his 1983 volume The Case for
Animal Rights, entitled Empty Cages. That is the book for the general
reader.
The Case for Animal Rights, 2004 edition is primarily
a textbook for moral philosophy students. Regan responds
in an updated preface to some of the criticisms of
the first edition.
Most thoughtful people consider how much they should
adjust their lifestyles to avoid causing animal suffering.
Typically this judgement proceeds from personal intuition.
But beliefs coming from such a subjective and emotional
origin are not necessarily convincing to others, and do not provide
a consistent approach to resolving moral conflict when the resolution
must be translated into public law or policy.
Regan seeks to provide a proper philosophical basis
for intuitive compassion.
The Case for Animal Rights is written for Americans,
and assumes a common culture in which consideration
for animal welfare has long been acknowledged as a
legitimate public concern, even though@ what “animal welfare” consists of remains
hotly debated.
Cross-cultural effects upon moral intuition are mentioned
briefly, but are not fully explained. For example, the reviewers work
with wildlife in a remote province of South Africa, where virtually
the entire farming community speaks little English, views all wild
animals as either game to be hunted or vermin to be exterminated, and
regards white supremacy as God-given.
Our intuitions are the same as Regan’s, but we are among a tiny, despised
minority here. Most of our neighbors regard our beliefs as radical, extremist,
and perhaps even heretical.
Since Regan’s view of animal rights, and many other moral theories which
do not have a single ultimate authority (e.g religion) must rest upon moral intuitions,
upon what moral basis must the reviewers ground our contention that a compassionate
ethic is as morally right in South Africa as anywhere else?
Do we not leave ourselves open to charges of elitism,
arrogance, and trying to impose First World values upon the Third World?
Professor Regan’s magnus opus is so important a foundation for the whole
effort to explain animal rights as a moral imperative that dedicated animal advocates
might risk the odd cranial twinge in order to read it––a few pages
at a time.
––Chris Mercer & Bev Pervan
The Cruelest Miles: The Heroic Story Of Dogs & Men In A Race Against An Epidemic by Gay Salisbury & Laney Salisbury F W.W. Norton & Co. (500 5th Ave., New York, NY 10110), 2003. 303 pages, hardback. $24.95. |
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The legend behind the annual Iditarod dog sled race is often repeated, especially by the race promoters, who tout it as a quasi- re-enactment of history.
The legend is that from January 27 to February 1, 1925,
during the coldest, darkest, windiest days of a fierce
Alaskan winter, 20 mushers and their 400 dogs saved Nome from a diptheria
epidemic by relaying a packet of serum 674 miles northwest from the
nearest railhead.
The legend is true, and inspirational enough, but the
whole truth, excavated by first cousins Gay and Laney
Salisbury, is more inspirational still, with much more
in it to earn the attention and respect of those who
love dogs. Two dogs in particular won distinction.
Togo, 12, was already an Alaskan legend for racing
exploits and a surprising number of other acts of heroism.
Deemed a poor prospect to become a sled dog as a pup,
he was given away to a lady who wanted a lap dog, but
escaped through a window and ran back to sled racer
and courier Leonhard Seppala’s dog yard.
Togo followed Seppala’s team for a time, and then at age eight
months began running in front of the team. Putting Togo in harness, Seppala––who
had already trained several legendary dogs––soon discovered
that the audacious pup was a natural leader, even of much older and larger
dogs.
Togo led Seppala’s team 170 miles to meet the serum relay, then
led them 91 miles back toward Nome with the serum, charging through a
headwind across the frozen and often treacherous Norton Sound. That was
by far the longest part of the relay, but Togo wasn’t done. After
Seppala handed off the serum, Togo still had enough energy left to lead
the team in a mass break from harness in hot pursuit of a herd of reindeer.
Seppala soon recaptured the others, but Togo and another dog were lost
in a blizzard and presumed dead until they trotted into Nome a week later.
A photograph of his return, tired but still cocky, appears in the book.
Balto, 6, another dog once considered a poor sledding
prospect, brought the serum into Nome. Driver Gunnar
Kaasen rarely spoke of his performance, but apparently
Kaasen moved Balto into the lead harness after two
more experienced dogs balked at running into the wind.
They were not even supposed to be out on the trail,
but a downed telegraph line kept Kaasen and the previous
driver, Charlie Olson, from finding out that they had
been ordered to wait out the storm.
Blinded by wind and snow early into what was supposed
to have been the next-to-last rather than the final
leg of the relay, Kaasen had little choice but to depend
on Balto to get them there. Balto made mistakes, running
them into a drift at one point and flipping the sled
at another, after he and Kaasen ran past their intended
rest stop at Solomon. Yet Balto made up for inexperience
as a lead dog with rare ability to find the trail beneath
the drifts and determination to get the job done.
Reaching Port Safety at three in the morning, they
found final leg driver Ed Rohn and team asleep. Rather
than lose an hour waking him up and harnessing his
team, they kept going. When they reached Nome, write
the Salisbury cousins, “Witnesses to this drama said
they saw Kaasen stagger off the slep and stumble up to Balto, where he
collapsed, muttering ‘Damn fine dog.’”
Rohn, who missed his chance at glory as part of the
first serum relay, immediately became the unsung hero
of the second, which was already underway, carrying
the additional doses that were needed to keep the epidemic
in check. Many of the drivers participated in both
relays.
The Iditarod race interests the Salisburys only in
passing. It is in actuality more a re-enactment of
the All Alaska Sweepstakes race, held annually from
1908 to 1917, than an authentic reprise of the serum
run.
As with the Iditarod, begun in 1973, the All Alaska
Sweepstakes field in early runnings included many rough-and-ready
trappers, miners, and hunters who ran their dogs to
death, but also as with the Iditarod, the standards
of dog care rose rapidly when the winners year after
year proved to be the mushers who treated their dogs
with consideration.
Introducing or popularizing booties to protect dogs’ feet from
rough ice, trimming dogs’ nails, and the now standard crossbar
sled handle, Scotty Allan won the All Alaska Sweepstakes three times,
with two seconds and a third.
Leonhard Seppala and many of the other serum run mushers
were veterans of the All Alaska Sweepstakes, and most
were of the Scotty Allan philosophy, as evidenced by
the longevity of their dogs. Gay and Laney Salisbury
have traced the dogs’ fate to the extent of their
ability. While huskies are by reputation short-lived, Togo survived to
age 16, Balto to age 14, and Sye, the last of his serum run teammates,
to 17.
Surprisingly, in view of the harshness of life in rural
Alaska, many of the mushers also proved exceptionally
long-lived. The last of them, Edgar Nollner, died in
1999 at 94.
––Merritt Clifton
Elephas
Maximus: A Portrait of the Indian Elephant by
Stephen Alter
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A thorough introduction to the history, mythological roles, and present status of elephants in India, Elephas Maximus reviews all the familiar elephant issues pertaining to habitat, poaching, domestic use, and exhibition, and delves into others that have received little attention in centuries.
For example, were the military capabilities of elephants
worth the risk and expense of keeping war elephant herds? An elephant
charge could devastate enemy infantry, but apparently war elephants
were almost as likely to wheel and trample the troops behind them as
those in front––as shown in the computer-made scenes
of elephant warfare in the second and third episodes of the Lord of the Rings
film trilogy.
Elephant used to promote vegetarianism (Laxmi Narain Modi) |
Some elephants have been used in more recent @Southeast Asian conflicts, without notable success. Perhaps the skills of training elephants for warfare have been lost. Perhaps they never existed.
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Five pages in the middle of Elephas Maximus review
the saga of the tuskless male elephant Moorthy, also
known as Loki. Probably a former logging elephant who was released into the
woods after tractors and a scarcity of timber took his job, Moorthy/Loki
was captured in 1998 following rampages that killed
at least 12 and perhaps as many as 36 people, in two neighboring states.
U.S. activist Deanna Krantz, then operating an animal hospital in Tamil Nadu,
alleged that he was abused, and eventually made him an Internet cause celebre.
The Performing Animal Welfare Society amplified the matter with a direct
mailing headlined “The
worst case of animal abuse ever documented.”
Yet eight separate investigations by Indian animal
advocates found little support for the charges. ANIMAL PEOPLE asked
in July/August 1999 whether the PAWS piece might have been “The most misleading mailing ever?”
We followed up in 2000 and 2002.
Visiting the elephant in January 2002, Alter concluded,
as we did and as Indian courts eventually did, that Krantz’ allegations
were essentially hot air.
“Under the circumstances,” Alter writes, “accusations of cultural
arrogance and neocolonialism seem justified.”
Krantz is apparently no longer working in India.
––Merritt Clifton
Humane
Education Classic --Pep: The Story Of A Brave
Dog /
by Clarence Hawkes
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“Pep is a purposeful book––the story of a faithful, intelligent dog, which should help to do for the dog what Anna Sewell’s Black Beauty did for the horse,” opined William H. Micheals, superintendent of schools in Media, Pennsylvania, in prefacing the 1928 edition of a volume which had already become a classroom hit.
Pep did not achieve the enduring popularity of Black
Beauty, and frankly is not at that level of literary skill. It has
not been reprinted for many decades now, though it was once a staple
of humane education.
It is still a page-turner. Several generations of my
family have enjoyed Pep, and I found on rereading it for the first
time in 42 years that it still held my interest, not least because
author Clarence Hawkes is convincing when he narrates from the dog’s point of view.
Written on behalf of all dogs, Pep also was an early
effort, perhaps the first, to rehabilitate the image of pit bull terriers.
In both the rhetoric it uses and the examples it presents, Pep seems
to presage most recent defenses of the breed.
Not mentioned in the text, but in the immediate background,
was that dogfighting had relatively recently been banned in many states,
and was still legal here in Washington as well as in much of the South.
Animal shelters then as now were filled with pit bulls for whom there
were no homes.
Efforts were made to adopt them out, but the vast majority
were killed, until by the middle of the 20th century pit bulls had
become temporarily scarce.
“Pep was the usual type of bull terrier,” Hawkes tells us, “about
16 inches at the shoulders and weighing nearly 40 pounds,” small by current
standards. In those days both pit bulls and people were usually smaller.
Pep is also described as an “English bull terrier” early in the book,
which enables him to win an unnamed exhibition that appears to have been inspired
by the Westminister Dog Show. His fighting pedigree is later recognized immediately
by a British stretcher bearer, but Pep himself never fights.
Drawings by William Van Dresser show a battle-scarred
white Staffordshire on the cover, and several white Staffordshire show
dogs inside.
Pep belongs to an American doctor living somewhere
about two hours from New York City by train. The doctor is drafted
and sent to France in 1917, without benefit of military training––unless his previous location was West Point,
a geographic possibility.
Running away from home when left behind, Pep overtakes
the doctor’s train
when it is derailed by a broken axle. Finding no way to make himself useful,
Pep is left again, but leaps aboard the platform behind the last car when the
train continues, and eventually obliges the doctor to take him on the troop ship
to France.
There are, improbably, two little girls on the ship.
One, named Hilda, is swept overboard in a storm. The doctor throws
Pep into the sea to save her.
Later the ship is torpedoed by a German submarine.
The people escape in lifeboats. Pep swims behind for an hour before
the doctor thinks to tie a shoelace to his collar to help him keep
up. Pep then swims two more hours to reach shore.
In France Pep distinguishes himself as a therapy dog,
comforting the doctor, other medical personnel, and wounded soldiers.
When the doctor is sent to the front during the March 1918 battle to
retake Ardennes forest from the Germans, who had held it since August
1914, he is shot through the hips. Pep finds him. The doctor throws
his canteen into a convenient stream; Pep retrieves it repeatedly,
bringing water. Eventually Pep fetches help, saving the doctor’s
life, but is wounded himself by shrapnel. While convalescing, Pep resumes
his work as a therapy dog, until he and the doctor sail home.
Apparently the Allied command has decided that Hilda
too should be sent home from the Western Front. Pep and the doctor
join her on the same “great
ship on which they had come across.” Exactly how the ship was resurrected
after being torpedoed and sent to the bottom is never discussed.
Hawkes was among the most popular story-tellers of
his time, producing 53 books in all, chiefly on animal themes. Blinded
at age 13, Hawkes wrote by dictation. Instead of filling in details
from observation and imagination, Hawkes relied on research. He made
mistakes when misled by sources, for example in describing sled dog
racing as an activity performed by two-man teams of mushers, but that
was a matter of confusing competitive practice with the methods of freight
teams. He correctly described the difference between native and racing team
hitches.
Though Hawkes to his credit does not resort to whining “But it really happened!” in
defense of his rather exaggerated plot, it is an amalgam of deeds actually done
by many different dogs, on many different occasions. Despite some howlers, Hawkes’ accuracy
quotient was rather high, by the standards of either then or now, and his audacity
in describing the evolution of wolves from dogs far exceeds what most writers
with a schoolroom audience would attempt today.
The courage of his publisher should also be noted,
in that Pep first appeared three years before John T. Scopes was tried
in Tennessee for teaching evolution, and was kept in print long after
Scopes was convicted and fined.
Wrote Micheals, “The educational value of Pep lies chiefly in its effort
to develop kindness toward animals, and books like this will do more to stimulate
humaneness in the child’s mind than all the ‘Be Kind to Animals’ weeks
we can observe. This is an end to be sought not only for the sake of the animals,
for also for the sake of the child. Therein,” Micheals opined, “lies
the justification for this book as a supplementary reader,” included in
school curriculums for decades, and kept in school libraries for even longer.
“The teacher who ignores this opportunity for character development is,
to a great degree,” Micheals concluded, “delinquent in her duty as
a promoter of true ethics.”
––M.C.