Animals Are People

A chapter from Animals Are People by Peter Morville

Chapter 22

I’m so excited. Inari arrives today. After nearly a year of class, I finally get to meet them in person. I woke up early, did my chores, and rode to Fox Holler. I mucked the stalls, groomed the horses, and fed the alpacas. I gave Bodhi breakfast. Then we sat on the bench. In less than five minutes, my beautiful orange cat fell asleep on my lap in the morning sun. I hated to leave, but I had to be back in time for Inari. So now I’m home, sitting on the front stoop with Ghost, and I can not wait.

A yellow Jeep Wrangler spins up our drive, top down, reggae music turned to eleven. All ambient sound is drowned out by Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds. As they near, I see it’s Inari. They’re sporting a purple t-shirt, sunglasses, and a grin. I’m so happy. Maybe every little thing is gonna be alright. But the music stops as they step down. Inari is so thin and frail, I’m afraid they’ll fall over.

“Not what you were expecting?” they ask.

“It’s so good to see you,” I reply. “And no, I did not expect a Jeep.” I fold my arms around them, and we hug. Inari smells like a tropical beach. It must be the sunscreen. I don’t want to let go. But we can’t stay here forever. Behind me, I hear our creaky old front door swing open and shut.

“Inari, you made it! How are you? Do you need to rest? Are you ready for lunch?” Mom swoops in, and I fade to black. It’s like I’m not here. I tend to forget they were friends before I was born. Mom helps Inari inside, while I bring in their bags and equipment. There’s a ventilator, a cough assist, and a suction machine — stone cold evidence that every little thing is not gonna be alright.

Lunch was difficult. Inari gagged down Mom’s potato leek soup. There’s no other way to say it. What do you do while your friend coughs and splutters? Do you look away? Are you supposed to act as if the suction machine doesn’t bother you? It’s disgusting! I feel bad for even thinking that. But it’s true. I give Inari credit though. You can tell they are English by the way they keep calm and carry on.

Anyways, it’s a relief to start philosophy class. We’re on the back deck under the sun umbrella. Mom left us with two glasses and an icy pitcher of sweet tea. The afternoon is picture-perfect — sunshine, blue sky, and a slight breeze.

“Jo, tell me about Rattling the Cage by Steven Wise.”

“The book is boring. In a good way. I agree with most everything he says. It’s just not new.”

“It was radical twenty-five years ago, but I see what you mean, Jo. Tell me what jumps out.”

“In his book, and through the Nonhuman Rights Project, Wise seeks to change the legal status of some animals from property to person. I’m not entirely clear who’s in or out. On the one hand, Wise says, ‘I will focus on seven areas of cognition. One is primitive, but very important: the capacity to feel pain. The other six, often heavily overlapping, categories will ascend to some of the most complex cognitive abilities that chimpanzees, bonobos, and human beings possess in whole or in part: mental representation, self-conception, logical and mathematical abilities, tool use, the knowledge that minds exist, and nonsymbolic and symbolic communication, including language.’ He argues that the ‘higher animals’ such as elephants, dolphins, parrots, and apes are just like us. On the other hand, Wise casts ‘autonomy’ or the ability to act to satisfy preferences as the basis for moral status. He says a being who ‘makes choices’ deserves to be free and equal in dignity and rights. So does he care about all animals, or just the elites at the top of the great chain of being?”

“Good question, Jo. Wise says, ‘For four thousand years, a thick and impenetrable legal wall has separated all human from nonhuman animals.’ As you know, Jo, under our laws, animals are objects, not subjects. So, while I suspect Wise cares for all animals, his strategy is to tear down the wall, brick by brick. And he reckons a judge will most likely grant habeas corpus to an animal with whom humans can easily identify — an animal who, as you say, is just like us.”

“I read what he says on classification to Mom, that ‘any two beings and any two situations are infinitely different and infinitely alike,’ and ‘how we classify tells us more about ourselves than about what we’re classifying.’ I told her Wise says judges are guilty of ‘unreasonable splitting.’ We have too many splitters who exaggerate differences when what we need are lumpers who admit commonalities. Mom says that Wise is an information architect at heart.”

“I agree with your mom.” Inari stops to swallow. After a sip of sweet tea, they smile. “Let’s move on to Gary Francione and Anna Charlton. How do you feel about abolition?”

“The abolitionist approach to animal rights is intriguing. Inari, I can’t decide if I agree. To sum up their six principles, ‘Abolitionists maintain that all sentient beings, human or nonhuman, have one right — the basic right not to be treated as the property of others.’ So, ‘we must abolish, and not merely regulate, institutionalized animal exploitation,’ and not support welfare reform. They argue veganism is a moral baseline and ‘creative, nonviolent vegan education must be the cornerstone of rational animal rights advocacy.’ They say sentience or subjective awareness is the sole basis of moral status, and we must reject all forms of discrimination, including racism, sexism, heterosexism, ageism, ableism, classism, and speciesism. Finally, abolitionists recognize nonviolence as a core principle of the animal rights movement.”

“Jo, where do you disagree?”

“It’s a powerful manifesto. And at first, I’m cheering. They say there’s ‘absolutely no doubt the animals we routinely exploit — cows, pigs, sheep, goats, chickens, turkeys, fish, lobsters — are sentient. All sentient beings have at least two interests: the interest in not suffering and the interest in not dying.’ It’s all good! But when the abolitionists say, ‘the world of morality is binary,’ and animal welfare is akin to promoting the humane treatment of slaves, and we must not bring domesticated animals into existence, I flinch.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure. It sounds right yet feels wrong.”

“Why?”

Now it’s my turn to stop and sip tea. Inari is adorable. They love asking hard questions. And I love their cheeky smile. Anyways, I’m trying to decipher why I feel what I feel. It isn’t easy. And it takes as long as it takes. I draw another sip of my sweet tea. Then I smile at Inari, as the light of reason dawns — rising from the dark shadows of emotion.

“I guess I experience morality as spectral. It’s not good or bad to have pets. It depends. The same is true of animal welfare. Ethics isn’t only what you do, but how you do it. To leave a cat or a dog alone in a house all day is cruel and wrong. It should be against the law. But I can’t abide a world without companion animals. Inari, I’d rather be dead. My animals are my family. We make each other healthy and happy. It’s a win-win. Also, who’s going to ban pets? Ya might as well go for the guns too! Ain’t gonna happen! Not in ‘Murica! Francione and Charlton ignore the way of the world. Abolitionism is black and white, rationality without emotion, and it’s totally impractical.”

“A salty speech, peppered with insight; good on you, Jo!

“I knew the abolitionists pissed me off. Now I know why.”

“At least they own their extremism. They say, ‘abolitionists are moral realists’ and ‘moral realism is the position that moral facts and moral values exist as objective truths that are independent of our perception of them.’ To say eating meat is bad is as true as stating there’s a cup on the table.”

“They admit it’s impossible to avoid all animal products, since they’re in road surfaces, plastics, and glues. But the posture is purity. The abolitionist angle is seductive and hypocritical. They make folks feel bad about themselves.”

“I agree, Jo! Fundamentalism is captivating, dangerous, and inevitably devolves into us and them. It’s no surprise that Gary Francione is in hot water for being anti-trans. The man is addicted to binary thinking.”

“Beware the false dichotomy, for classification lies at the heart of philosophy. No wonder you and Mom get along.”

“Speaking of lies and classification, let’s talk Nussbaum.”

“Ha! Martha Nussbaum limits Utilitarianism to pleasure and pain, and then she burns the straw man to make way for her capabilities approach. She says, ‘capabilities are core entitlements, closely comparable to a list of fundamental rights.’ Nussbaum’s approach ‘concentrates on the actual capability of persons to achieve lives they value rather than solely having a right or freedom to do so.’ And Martha says that a chance to flourish means not just avoiding pain, but also enjoying positive opportunities.”

“What does that mean, Jo?”

“Let a chicken be a chicken. Make it the law.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“A hen needs a flock. They need a safe place to roost at night, and ample space to free range by day. Access to food and water is not enough. For a chicken to be a chicken, they need the right to forage for bugs, grass, and herbs. Martha Nussbaum wants to enact such rights into law.”

“Do you agree?”

“I don’t know. She says, ‘the ideal outcome would be for all the nations of the world (listening astutely to the demands of animals and those who most knowledgeably represent them) to agree to a legally enforceable constitution for the various animal species, each with its own list of capabilities to be protected, and each supplied with a threshold level beneath which non-protection becomes injustice.’ I agree animals merit justice. But her ideas are so unrealistic. How do you convince genocidal warrior states to grant constitutional rights to pigs and bees?”

“Well put, Jo. You and I are on the same page. What else?”

“Nussbaum’s Celestial Emporium of Benevolent Knowledge. Seriously, Jorge Luis Borges would love her taxonomy. She says, ‘a necessary and sufficient condition for being a subject of a theory of justice is the possession of what I can call the standard animal package: sentience, emotion, cognitive awareness of objects, movement toward the good and away from the bad.’ So, birds and mammals and octopuses are in, sharks, stingrays, and corals are out, as are insects, except for bees who feel pain and anxiety. Plants are out, lobsters and cobras are indeterminate, and fish exist in two categories: (a) those who are sentient, and (b) those we can eat without guilt. Inari, it’s all so obvious!”

“I love it, Jo. Do go on.”

“Nussbaum says that death is a harm only for those with ‘temporally extended projects,’ and since fish live in a ‘perpetual present,’ it’s not unjust to kill them humanely. Oh, and by the way, Martha Nussbaum says she loves to eat fish, and ‘the high protein needs of aging women, especially those like me with a high level of physical exercise, combined with my difficulty digesting lentils and beans, make it hard for me to transition to a totally vegan diet.’ Her motivated reasoning is painfully obvious.”

“Jo, way back in 1948, Al Capp invented the shmoo, a cartoon creature resembling a bowling ball with stubby legs. Shmoos reproduce asexually, multiply faster than rabbits, and require no sustenance other than air. Shmoos are delicious: fried they taste like chicken, grilled they taste like steak. And they are eager to be eaten. If a human looks at one hungrily, the shmoo dies of happiness. And you know what? People went crazy for shmoos! It was an unexpected and unprecedented publishing and merchandizing phenomenon. And do you know why, Jo?”

“Martha isn’t the only one who’s in love with the fantasy of delicious animals who don’t mind being eaten!”

“Bingo!”

“To be fair, Inari, except for fish, Nussbaum is surprisingly concerned with wild animal suffering. She says that we have a collective duty to protect wild animals from disease and starvation, prey from predation, and habitats from destruction and climate change. And she claims, ‘to say that it is the destiny of antelopes to be torn apart by predators is like saying that it is the destiny of women to be raped.’ Martha Nussbaum pulls no punches!”

“Arthur Schopenhauer says that ‘if the reader wishes to see whether the pleasure in the world outweighs the pain, let him compare the feelings of two animals, one of whom is engaged in eating the other.’”

“Sounds like a cheery fellow! Anyway, I’m unsure about wild animals. I hate that we destroy habitats. And I wish prey animals didn’t suffer. After all, I know what it’s like to be eaten alive by a coyote. I had that vision. The trauma isn’t gone. But Nussbaum’s ideas for intervention are unsound. To suggest ‘cats should learn not to chase the local birds,’ and that we ought to stop lions from eating antelopes is hubris. It’s as if she’s ignorant of evolution.”

Inari nods, sips sweet tea, then gags, coughs, splutters. They use the suction machine, then the cough assist. Their purple shirt is flecked with spittle. I look away. It’s all I can do. Afterwards, they are deflated. “ALS is a right bastard,” they say. “Sucks all the joy out of life. That’s why I read Schopenhauer. His sheer wretchedness is the only thing that cheers me up. Other than you, my dear.”

While Inari takes a nap, I do chores and homework. By the time they emerge from the bedroom, it’s late afternoon. Ghost, Inari, and I wander down by the pond. The weather is beautiful, still. As we near the lawn chairs, a loud hiss startles my friend. “It’s okay, Inari, just a bullfrog,” I say. I help Inari to get settled. Then I ease myself into a chair. Ghost sprawls in the green grass beside us.

“Inari, did you know the coevolution of humans and dogs dates back thirty thousand years? I don’t see how it’s wrong for humans to be friends with animals. I just don’t.”

“I completely agree, Jo. Symbiosis is natural. Interspecies relationships are among life’s greatest blessings.”

“I’ve been thinking of activism, again. I imagined building a wikipedia of animal feelings. We’d explain the science of animal emotion and capture facial expressions and body languages with photos and videos. We’d show folks that animals have feelings, just like us, and that nonhuman animals even experience some emotions that we don’t.”

“What an idea! Especially since we’re on the verge of using artificial intelligence to decode animal communication. A wikipedia of animal feelings — I love it!”

“Yeah, well, I’m not doing it. Feels like a fit for a tech bro. My new dream is an animal sanctuary. All my animals will be in one place. I hate hiding Bodhi and the alpacas at Fox Holler. I’ll be able to bring them home. And I’ll save more starfish, one at a time. Folks will give money and help out. I’ll give tours. I’ll spread the word that animals are people. The name is Sentient Sanctuary. What do you think?”

There’s no reply. I glance over to Inari — silent and still. Ghost is standing by their side.

“What’s wrong? Inari! Are you okay?”

Inari rests a frail hand on Ghost. Tears run.

“Nothing. Everything. It’s just that, I’m going to miss this. Jo, I’m going to miss you!”

I gently rest my hand on their shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere, Inari. Neither are you. It’s okay.”

“Jo, I leave tomorrow. We have two more classes, that’s all.”

“We’ll collaborate on the book. We’ll stay in touch.”

“You have what you need for the book. Jo, you’ll be great. My health is in free fall. Soon I won’t be able to walk or talk. Teaching you is one of the greatest joys of my life. Jo, I’m so grateful to know you. I’m just sad it’s almost over.”

Now it’s my turn to cry. I don’t know what to say. So I sit quietly beside my friend. We listen to the chorus of frogs. We watch as finches dart to and fro, a blur of reds and yellows with a dash of purple. I just don’t know how to feel.

I love Inari. They are my teacher and my friend, but it’s more than that. I can’t explain. When I’m with Inari, I feel safe, special and alive. Nobody else makes me feel this way.

A sunfish breaks the surface. We watch as the ripples fade.

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A chapter from Animals Are People by Peter Morville