The Rhetoric of Apology in Animal Rights: Some Points to Consider
Dr. Karen Davis
Several years ago I published an article in
Between the Species entitled "The Otherness of Animals" (Fall 1988). In
it, I urged that in order to avoid contributing to some of the very
attitudes towards other animals that we seek to change, we need to raise
fundamental questions about the way that we, the defenders of animals,
actually conceive of them. One question that needs to be raised concerns
our tendency to deprecate ourselves, the animals, and our goals when
speaking before the press and the public. Often we "apologize" for animals
and our feelings for them. In Between the Species, I argued, "Anxious not
to alienate others from our cause, half doubtful of our own minds at times
in a world which views other animals so much differently than we do, we
are liable to find ourselves presenting them apologetically at Court,
spiffed up to seem more human, capable, ladies and gentlemen, of
performing Ameslan [American sign language] in six languages. . . ."
We apologize in many different ways. More than once, I have been warned
by an animal protectionist that the public will never care about chickens,
and that the only way to get people to stop eating chickens is to
concentrate on things like health and the environment. However, to take
this defeatist view is to create a self-fulfilling prophecy. If we, the
spokespersons for animals, decide in advance that no one will ever really
care about them, we will convey this message to the public. Insisting that
others will never care about chickens projects the feeling, "I don't think
that I can ever care much about chickens."
This negative attitude about chickens epitomizes the apologetic mode of
discourse in animal rights. It is the "I know I sound crazy, but . . ."
approach to the public. If we find ourselves "apologizing" for other
animals, we need to ask ourselves why we do this. Is it an expression of
self-doubt? A deliberate strategy? Either way, I believe that the rhetoric
of apology harms our movement tremendously. Following are some examples of
what I mean.
Reassuring the public, "Don't worry. Vegetarianism isn't going to
come overnight." We should ask ourselves the question: if I were
fighting to end human slavery, child abuse, or some other human-created
oppression, would I seek to placate the public or the offender by
reassuring them that the offense will still go on for a long time and
that we are only trying to phase it out gradually? Why, instead of
defending vegetarianism are we not affirming it?
Patronizing animals: "Of course they're only animals. Of course they
can't reason the way we do. Of course they can't appreciate a symphony
or paint a great work of art, but . . ." In fact, few people live their
lives according to "reason," or appreciate symphonies, or paint works of
art. As humans beings we do not know what it feels like to have wings or
to take flight from within our own bodies or to live naturally within
the sea. Our species represents a smidgeon of the world's experience,
yet we patronize everything outside our domain.
Comparing competent, adult nonhuman animals with human infants and
people who are mentally defective. This is an extension of number 2. Do
we honestly believe that all of the other creatures on earth have a
mental life and range of experiences that are comparable to diminished
human capacity and the sensations of newborn babies? Except within the
legal system, where all forms of life that are helpless against human
assault should be classified together and defended on similar grounds,
this analogy is both arrogant and logically absurd.
Starting a sentence with, "I know these animals aren't as cute as
other animals, but . . ." Do you say to your child, "I know Bill isn't
as cut as Tom, but you still have to play with him"? Why put a foregone
conclusion in people's minds? Why even suggest that physical appearance
and conventionalized notions of attractiveness are relevant to anything
that matters in a relationship?
Letting ourselves be intimidated by "science says," "producers know
best" and charges of "anthropomorphism." We are related to other animals
through evolution. Our empathic judgments reflect this fact. It does not
take special credentials to know that, for example, a hen confined in a
wire cage is suffering, or to imagine what her feelings must be compared
with those of a hen ranging outside in the grass. We are told that
humans are capable of knowing just about anything we want to
know--except what it feels like to be one of our victims. Intellectual
confidence is needed here, not submission to the epistemological
deficiencies, cynicism, and intimidation tactics of profiteers.
Letting the other side identify and define who we are. I once heard
a demonstrator tell a member of the press at a protest at a chicken
slaughterhouse, "I'm sure Frank Perdue thinks we're all a bunch of kooks
for caring about chickens, but. . ." Ask yourself: does it matter what
the Frank Perdues of this world "think" about anything? Can you imagine
Frank Perdue standing in front of a camera, saying, 'I know the animal
rights advocates think I'm a kook, but . . ."?
Needing to "prove" that we care about people, too. The next time
someone challenges you about not caring about people, ask them what
they're working on. Whatever they say, say, "But why aren't you working
on ________? Don't you care about _______?" We care deeply about many
things; however, we cannot devote our primary time and energy to all of
them. We must focus our attention and direct our resources. Moreover, to
seek to enlarge the human capacity for justice and compassion is to care
about and to work for people.
Needing to "pad" and bolster our concerns about animals and animal
abuse. This is an extension of number 7. In keeping with the need to
recognize the links of oppression and the indivisibility of social
justice concerns, it is imperative to recognize that the abuse of
animals is a human problem that is as serious as any other abuse.
Unfortunately, the victims of homo sapiens are legion. As individuals
and groups, we cannot give equal time to every category of injustice. We
must go where our heartstrings pull us the most, and do the best that we
can with the confidence that is needed to change the world.
The rhetoric of apology in animal rights is an extension of the
"unconscious contributions to one's undoing" described by the child
psychologist, Bruno Bettelheim.* He pointed out that human victims will
often "collaborate" unconsciously with an oppressor in the vain hope of
winning the oppressor's favor.
In fighting for animals and animal rights against the collective human
oppressor, we assume the role of vicarious victims. To apologize in this
role is to betray "ourselves" profoundly. We need to understand why and
how this can happen. As Bettelheim explained out, "But at the same time,
understanding the possibility of such unconscious contributions to one's
undoing also opens the way for doing something about the
experience--namely, preparing oneself better to fight in the external
world against conditions which might induce one unconsciously to
facilitate the work of the destroyer."
We must prepare ourselves this way. If we feel that we must apologize,
let us apologize to the animals, not for them.
*Bruno Bettelheim, "Unconscious Contributions to One's Undoing," Surviving and Other Essays, Vintage Books, 1980.
Dr. Karen Davis, PhD.
This speech was given July 10,1994 at the National Alliance for Animals
Seventh Annual International Animal Rights Symposium, July 8 through July
10, 1994, Washington Dulles Marriott
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