Yesterday
deano's post about Ben & Jerry's alleged mistreatment of animals, specifically chickens, yielded an interesting and, at times, combative thread about the use and abuse of animals for food, clothing, and other human necessities. A few of the comments were along the lines of "They're just chickens, get over it," while others challenged the hypocrisy of animal defenders with questions like, "Don't you wear leather?"
I'm going to sidestep the issue of B&J's corporate social responsibilities, because I don't know the company's history since it was purchased, but I want to go to the heart of the comments. We're supposedly "liberals," in the historic sense of that word. So in the spirit of Rawlsian liberalism, which is at root the story of extending rights to the oppressed, and giving voice to the voiceless, I want to try to put our chicken discussion in context - specifically a historical, ethical, and jurisprudential framework.
Right up front: Yes, I'm a vegetarian and have been for more than 30 years, but I'm not a PETA member or Animal Liberation Front activist. I wear leather shoes and belts, I spend almost every summer on a cattle ranch, I don't care if people hunt (although I hate the "caged" safaris where you're guaranteed a kill), and unlike Albert Schweitzer in the West or Gandhi in the East I don't go out of my way to lift ants, wasps, and other insects off the sidewalk so they won't get stepped on.
As historian Rod Nash describes in a dated but still interesting book called The Rights of Nature, since at least the 1970s the animal rights movement (and the larger environmental community in general) has argued that our mistreatment of animals (and nature) can be viewed in the same light as the abuses of earlier "communities": serfs, blacks, women. In each case, the oppressed person was considered "property," not entitled to the same rights as privileged classes. Prior to the passage of the Magna Carta in 1215, suggesting that serfs had "rights" sounded nearly as preposterous then as "chickens have rights" does today. To argue, as some did in Philadelphia, that slaves were feeling, thinking beings seemed equally ludicrous to the majority, and, as you know, this is how African Americans were counted in the Constitution:
Article 1, Section 2, Clause 3:
Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several States which may be included within this Union, according to their respective Numbers, which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons.
William Lloyd Garrison, John Brown, and other Abolitionists were often viewed like animal rights advocates are today - as kooks. It was not until 1863 - nearly 90 years after Jefferson wrote "all men are created equal" - that the Emancipation Proclamation acted on those words, and it took until the 1957 Civil Rights Act to extend these rights to the voting booth. Likewise, to maintain prior to the 1920 passage of the 19th Amendment that women should be accorded rights was considered outlandish by many, even among women. The point is that rights evolve, and we're seeing that process acted out today on the animal "rights" and environmental "rights" stages.
Certainly there were "humanitarian" organizations in the 19th century that advocated for the compassionate treatment of animals, from which we get today's ASPCA, humane societies, and related groups. Along with philosophers like Jeremy Bentham, these organizations focused primarily on horses, farm animals, and pets, and their message was decidedly anthropocentric, i.e, what was in our best interest. Today's groups focus less on what our treatment of animals says about people, and more on what it means to animals. In its largest sense, this discussion is central to liberalism - the idea of rights, how far they can be extended, and, importantly, who gets to say (animals can't).
This discussion is not just taking place among the members of PETA and ALF, although I do appreciate the fact that there are advocates willing to engage in civil disobedience, monkeywrenching, and pushing the envelope (not unlike the theory of the Overton Window that's been floating around here). Christopher Stone's 1972 article, "Should Trees Have Standing?" provoked years of discussion, dialog, and inquiry among philosophers, historians, theologians, and legal scholars - eventually making its way to Justice William O. Douglas and the Supreme Court, and helping to set the stage for the 1973 Endangered Species Act. The conclusion: it's not "just a snail darter" after all.
This concept - that animals, plants, and other nonhumans should be accorded rights not based on their utility to people - continues to be a fruitful and interesting area of research. Most of those who argue that we should widen the moral circle believe we will one day look back and wonder how people treated animals so terribly, just as today we read about the 19th century and cannot fathom how America sanctioned slavery. (Of course you don't have to go back that far. I have the same feeling when I watch grainy documentaries from the 1950s, when African Americans were lynched, hosed down, or set upon with dogs.)
Sure, it's a huge leap from an African slave to a chicken, but the thing is, both are sentient beings. Arguing that chickens cannot understand or think or imagine as humans do is "speciesism." Further, researchers tell us dolphins can think at nearly a human level, and many of us would argue there's some kind of thought process going on in our dog's head, so the question is, "Where do we draw the line?" Dolphin, dog, cat, cow, goat, rabbit, chicken, worm? The so-called deep ecologists argue that any living thing, from lichen to mosquito, should be included in our ethical system. If you can't go that far, consider that chickens and most other animals feel pain, which is the principle that generally underpins the question of where the line is drawn. You may remember when full-page newspaper ads in the 1980s showed rabbits being blinded for cosmetic research, and Revlon was forced to find less painful methods to provide our mascara. That's the deal: we don't have to cause pain.
Again, I'm not advocating vegetarianism or encouraging you to boycott petting zoos, but if most people visited a factory farm - where chickens never leave a cage (their beaks cut off so they don't peck one another), where cattle rarely see the light of day - they might consider that maybe, just maybe, there's another way. Just as Revlon found another method to test cosmetics, we can find more humane ways to raise animals for clothes and dinners. As one commenter said yesterday, it's like driving: Most of us do it and, yes, I suppose drivers who are environmentally active are hypocrites (somewhat) because driving is hard on nature. But we can be responsible: buy a car that gets good mileage, carpool, and cut down on commutes. It's about being aware and doing as little harm as possible. But most of us aren't aware of the food chain, being so disconnected from it (about 2% of Americans are farmers). We don't know where that lettuce in our salad came from (or how the workers were exploited); we don't know how that McNugget came to be (ditto). Out of sight, out of mind.
I realize this isn't the most important issue of the day, especially since we haven't yet extended equal rights to all people. It's still considered okay, for example, to withhold rights from the GLTG community, and the way this administration devalues the rights of entire nations, other ethnicities, and different religions is despicable. But I'd encourage us to fold animals into our moral considerations, and if the ethical argument doesn't hold water for you, consider that many of the huge corporations that raise chickens and cattle pollute our lands and waters, they destroy local economies, and they are among the worst offenders when it comes to workers' rights. But that's two or three other diaries.