Animals Are People

A chapter from Animals Are People by Peter Morville

Chapter 4

Mom joins us at the dinner table, wearing a big smile. “Good news, y’all! I got the Nature Conservancy project!”

“Hey, congratulations Abi, that’s fantastic!” replies Dad.

“Yeah. It really is. I’ll be super busy the next few months, but I’m so excited. I get to organize nature!”

“Nice, Mom,” I mumble, still chewing. It’s burgers and potato salad for dinner. Mine’s a veggie burger. I don’t see why they won’t switch. Slop on ketchup, mustard, pickles; it tastes pretty much the same. Still, the potato salad is vegan. I made it. Dad hasn’t noticed the difference.

“So, I’ve got a true-false,” says Dad. “Today I saw a guy shoot a deer from inside his truck or today a massive black bear ambled up onto our front porch, or today I electrocuted myself.”

Dad loves to scare us city folk. Mom guesses the bear. I go with the hunter.

“Jo’s right. Although when I was up at Church Hill Farm this afternoon, Bill did tell me about road hunters. They run dogs through private property and shoot deer from the road. It’s not legal. But they don’t care. Their grandpappies were hunting this land before there were laws. And then, Bill says, the road hunters aren’t all that bad. It’s the spotlighters we should worry about.”

“What the hell are spotlighters?” I ask.

Dad chuckles. “They drive around at night, stopping to aim spotlights into fields. The deer freeze up, and they take a shot, often right from the car. It’s dangerous, totally illegal, and happens all the time. Bill says that if you see a bright light shining in your field at night, don’t go out!”

Mom scowls. “Okay, Will, since you obviously enjoy scaring the hell out of us, what’s the story with the bear?”

“I caught it on two cameras. Here, check it out.”

Dad hands me his phone. Mom and I huddle together. In the dark of night, a huge black bear saunters down the drive and onto the porch. It’s awesome and terrifying. 

Mom sighs.

“Don’t worry,” says Dad. “The bear smelled the cat food. As long as we bring the food in at night, we’ll be fine.”

“And what about the electrocution?” asks Mom.

“Oh yeah, I forgot — must be the dain bramage.” Dad loves this game. “I saw a turtle by the pasture fence. So I knelt down to look, when suddenly I’m flat on my back. I thought I’d been hit on the head with a blunt object. Turns out I touched my forehead to a live wire. Bam!”

“You moved us here, Will, so clearly the brain damage is a pre-existing condition,” says Mom.

We all laugh. It’s good to be together. I do love my parents. But I sorta hate them too. How can they eat meat? They know that the cows suffer. Factory farming is disgusting and evil. Why don’t they care?

Next morning, class begins, and I hurl all my pent-up anger and frustration at Inari.

“Okay, Jo, I hear you! When my ex-husband refused to become a vegetarian, I hated him, even while I loved him. We’d sit down for lunch together, and his ham sandwich would trigger blinding hatred.”

“Yeah, that’s how I feel.”

“So, two things worked for me. First, I realized if I hated him for eating animals, I had to hate most people. Ninety percent of our global population is omnivorous. That’s a whole lot of hate. And second, my ex gobsmacked me with an insult. In the midst of a heated argument, he called me a fossil fuel vegan. I’d never heard the term, but I instantly got it. He made me laugh at myself. Jo, we are all complicit in habitat destruction. We all cause harm. I was being a hypocrite. And so are you.”

“I don’t get it. What’s a fossil fuel vegan? And why am I a hypocrite? Inari, I thought you’d understand.”

“I’m high on the vegan spectrum, but I’m not a purist. I don’t claim the moral high ground. We’re all complicit in climate change, pollution, suffering, and mass extinction. Our cars, homes, clothes, phones, computers, and food all involve the unsustainable use of land, water, and energy. Consider a head of lettuce at your grocery in winter. Where does it come from? A farm in Arizona that requires massive infusions of pesticides, fertilizer, and water from the Colorado river. Then it’s picked by workers from Mexico, washed in chlorinated water, wrapped in plastic, and shipped by truck. The per calorie greenhouse gas emissions of lettuce are three times that of bacon. I do my best. But I’m not willing to adopt a paleolithic lifestyle.”

“But at least I’m trying to reduce suffering. My parents don’t even care.”

“I get it, Jo, you’re angry. I agree factory farms are evil. But hate isn’t the answer. Our beliefs and behaviors are shaped by culture, which is like water to a fish, all-encompassing yet invisible. And it’s rare to swim upstream. Not long ago, you were eating animals. Like most, you went with the flow. It didn’t even occur to you to question tradition.”

Inari pauses — to see if I’m paying attention. I am.

“Jo, that’s why I believe in philosophy. In search of wisdom, we question everything. And it’s why we study religion in philosophy class, because the Bible underlies our society. And by the way, thanks for agreeing to meet twice this week. We have lots to cover. So let’s get cracking. We’ll begin with Genesis 1:26. Can you read it out loud?”

Maybe hate is the answer! Maybe hate is what it takes. I want to slam my laptop closed. End of class. But I don’t. Instead, I read out loud to Inari, “God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the sky, and over the livestock, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.’”

“Thanks, Jo. So what do you think?”

“Honestly, Inari, it sounds like total bullshit. I mean, it sounds like it was written by a man. Man is closest to God. Man gets to rule over all the animals. God bless factory farms! Amen and Hallelujah!”

“Well, it all hinges on the word ‘dominion,’ right? Can man do whatever he wants to animals? Or must he govern with respect, compassion, and mercy? Must he be a good shepherd? It’s hard to tell. Proverb 12:10 says, ‘A righteous man regards the life of his animal, but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.’ But, Jo, do God and Jesus show regard for the lives of animals?”

“Nope. Man was wicked. So God killed all the animals in the flood. And, in Matthew 8, two men were possessed by demons. So Jesus sent an innocent herd of pigs off a cliff. It’s do as I say, not as I do!”

“But, Jo, God didn’t kill all the animals, right? How many animals did Noah bring into the Ark?”

“Well, in 6:19, God says, ‘Of every living thing of all flesh, you shall bring two of every sort into the ship,’ but in 7:2 Yahweh says, ‘You shall take seven pairs of every clean animal with you, the male and his female. Of the animals that are not clean, take two, the male and his female.’ Of course, Noah was six hundred years old. So, I’m not sure we should take it literally.”

“A couple of key points. First, the Bible is riddled with inconsistencies and contradictions. For example, God tells man to eat green herbs and fruit, but then says, ‘The fear of you and the dread of you will be on every animal of the earth, and on every bird of the sky. Everything that the ground teems with, and all the fish of the sea are delivered into your hand. Every moving thing that lives will be food for you.’ Some discrepancies are easily explainable. Others not so much. Second, whether or not we should take the Bible literally is a fault line in religion. And it’s an interesting trap. Claim it’s the literal word of God, and you tie yourself in knots trying to make it make sense. But if you say it’s allegorical, who gets to interpret its meaning?”

“That’s one of the reasons I left the church! The pastor was cherry-picking verses. Mom and I argued after every sermon. I had fun poking holes, but it made her madder than a wet hen.” Inari holds a poker face well. They rarely react when I sling slang. But hey, a girl’s gotta try!

“Religion is a sensitive topic. That’s why I talked with your mom before adding it to the syllabus. But why do you think I included it? Why study religion in a philosophy class?”

“Like you said, religion shapes culture. And, like philosophy, religion talks about ethics, animals, and how to organize society. But philosophy uses reason whereas religion demands faith. You’re expected to believe the story without evidence. Inari, that simply doesn’t work for me. I seriously don’t get it.”

“It doesn’t work for me either, Jo. But you should know that we’re outnumbered. Eighty-five percent of humanity is religious. People believe what they want, or what they need, or what they’re told. Religion is a useful belief. That’s my take. And let’s be fair. While religion requires faith in God, classic philosophy demands faith in Reason. Jo, in my view, neither delivers Truth with a capital T.”

“Fact! Reason didn’t stop Plato from being wrong. And Aristotle was a scientist, yet some of his conclusions were ridiculous. But, Inari, that leaves us with nothing. How are we supposed to know what to believe?”

“I don’t know. That’s a good place to start. Honesty is my North Star. I believe in thinking and feeling your way to your truth. That’s my definition of philosophy. There’s a koan, ‘If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.’ It reminds us the path lies within. Buddhism evolved from a philosophy into a religion. The lines blur. We study both because our society’s habits, beliefs, values, and laws were shaped by religion and philosophy over thousands of years. Jo, the difference between a cult and a culture is scale. But you’re starting to ask the right questions, that’s what”

I glide silently over the hay field. Silver cobwebs sparkle in the moonlight. Neither the solitary opossum nor the white-tailed deer or her fawn notice my passing. I catch an updraft and float across dirt road and pasture. I am free. I yearn to soar over the river towards the rolling hills, but I have promises to keep. I sweep back over the hay field and along the woodland edge. A soft rustle catches my attention. So I hover. The deer mouse is hidden in a patch of crabgrass, but my ears pinpoint its location.

I raise velvet wings and fall headfirst like an angel of death. At the very last second, I pull a midair one-eighty. My talons strike the deer mouse lengthwise. I feel its neck snap, and I’m up and away. I soon alight at the opening of the hollow tree and step into our nest. The floor is littered with black pellets of fur, bones, and skulls. From the darkness emerge the heart-shaped, ghostly faces of three tiny barn owls. My babies are hungry.

“Jo. Hello. Are you okay?” It’s Inari. I must have dozed off.

“I’m sorry. Inari, I fell asleep. I was an owl. In my dream.”

“No worries. I was rambling. And the owl is the symbol of Athena, the goddess of wisdom. So let’s count your dream as philosophy. We’re out of time. See you tomorrow.”

As I ride my bike to Fox Holler, I’m overwhelmed by all the birds. Robins and bluejays hunt for worms in the grass verge. Tiny yellow finches dance among the wildflowers. A murder of crows in the fresh cut hay field erupts into caws and cackles as I pass by. I hear the songs of sparrows, the trill of a blackbird, the drumbeat of a woodpecker. Soaring above it all are the majestic red-tailed hawks. These birds are always there. But now I’m aware each bird is a being. Each bird has memories and goals. Each bird is a person with thoughts and feelings. It’s too much!

It wasn’t a dream! I was a specific owl. I felt what it’s like to catch an updraft, to rotate my head, to hear a mouse, to feed my babies. I may even be able to find the hollow tree with the nest. Still, nobody will believe me. Am I crazy? Am I simply believing what I want, or need, like all those people who trust in the resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ? The plain fact is I am having visions, and my visions reveal truth. It’s a gift. Maybe that’s what I need to believe — just take it on faith.

My back tire spins up gravel as I turn into Fox Holler. I’m excited to see Ghost, who is doing better than I even dared to hope. She eats well, her limp is gone, and she loves to chase squirrels. But she doesn’t bark or try to escape the enclosure. Ghost is so beautiful, it aches. I am in love.

“Hey, Jo, we need to talk!”

It’s Gage. He does not look happy. I ditch the bike and join him on the bench.

“Here, have a drink, you’ll need it.” Gage hands me a half-empty bottle of bourbon.

“No thanks, Gage. What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

“Do as I say, Jo. I’m serious!”

I’ve never seen Gage like this. What the fuck? I take a swig. The bourbon tastes awful and burns my throat. I cough and splutter. “Okay, Gage, what’s wrong? Is it Ghost?”

“Jo, I had a very interesting conversation with Marion this morning. She’s our mail lady. Turns out somebody stole a wolfdog named Belle from a customer on her postal route. Marion told me Ghost sure does look a lot like Belle. Oh, and the old man’s offering a hundred-dollar reward.”

I feel sick. This is my worst nightmare. “Is Marion going to tell the old man? We have to stop her. He’s a monster!”

“You lied to me, Jo.” Gage is livid.

“I’m sorry. I did it to save Ghost. He tortured her. We can’t give her back!”

Gage takes a swig of bourbon, chuckles, leans his shoulder against mine. “Well, Jo, it’s a good thing Marion won’t tell. She loves animals, and she’s seen him hit that dog. But don’t ever lie to me again! You want to save animals? Just bring ‘em and feed ‘em. Whatever cranks your tractor. Don’t ask, don’t tell. No truth, no lies, no liability. It will be our little secret. Okay, Princess?”

“Yes! Thanks! I’m sorry for lying. It won’t happen again. I promise. Oh my God. I nearly had a heart attack. I’m so relieved. I’m going to see Ghost. Then I’ll muck the stalls.”

I’m an idiot for getting caught. What else did I miss? And was Gage really angry? Or was he messing with me? As I enter the enclosure, Ghost is already loping over. I kneel on the forest floor, wrap my arms around my wolfdog, and I sob. Ghost licks my falling tears. I’m a hot mess.

The next morning, by the time class starts, it’s all good. Ghost is safe. That’s what matters.

“Jo, before we begin, I want to say one more thing about identity. I used the words non-binary and genderqueer to describe myself. But words collapse worlds into categories. I am not my gender. Sex is a spectrum, as is gender, sexual orientation, height, weight, color, strength, creativity, emotional intelligence, discipline, compassion, and so on.”

I nod, and I make eye contact, to show that I’m paying attention. I can tell that this subject is important to Inari.

“Also, some spectra are multi-dimensional. That’s why we can’t even define man and woman. Our maps are limited by scale, whereas the territory is fractal. A rainbow is a single spectrum with infinite colors. Jo, what I’m trying to say is that each and every one of us is more beautiful than a rainbow, because every single being is multi-spectral.”

“Inari, that’s lovely. Thank you for explaining it to me.”

“Yep. Now, let’s get cracking! When Saint Thomas Aquinas says, ‘Hence it is clear that the sensitive soul has no per se operation of its own, and that every operation of the sensitive soul belongs to the composite. Wherefore we conclude that as the souls of brute animals have no per se operations they are not subsistent,’ what’s the man up to?”

“I don’t know. His writing is inscrutable, per se.”

Inari laughs. “I hear you, Jo. Aquinas is building a case that only humans have immortal souls and using Aristotle’s terminology of the ‘sensitive soul’ to do so. He says,”

For just as in the generation of things we perceive a certain order of procession of the perfect from the imperfect, so also is there order in the use of natural things; thus the imperfect are for the use of the perfect; as the plants make use of the earth for their nourishment, and animals make use of plants, and man makes use of both plants and animals. Therefore it is in keeping with the order of nature, that man should be master over animals. Hence the Philosopher says that the hunting of wild animals is just and natural, because man thereby exercises a natural right.

“It’s crystal clear. Aristotle, who he calls the Philosopher, claimed that animals exist for the sake of man. So Aquinas uses Aristotle’s baseless assertion to justify hunting.”

“Yes. Then he says, ‘Man, being made to the image of God, is above other animals, these are rightly subject to his government.’ So Aquinas uses Aristotle and the Bible to elevate man over what he calls the ‘irrational animals.’ And this hierarchy of matter and life becomes embedded in Western culture as Aristotle’s Scala Naturae or the Great Chain of Being. God’s on top, then angels, humans, animals, plants, minerals. And, of course, of the mortal creatures, only man has an immortal soul, and thus only man is deserving of moral considerations and natural rights.”

“But, Inari, didn’t Aristotle say that the soul is inseparable from the body? So the soul dies with the body, right?”

“Yes, Jo. Nice catch! Aristotle does not speak of an immortal soul. And neither does the Bible. God says, ‘For you are dust, and to dust you shall return.’ So Aquinas sides with Plato, who got the idea from the Egyptians. Life after death is why they built pyramids. He’s cherry-picking. But it works. In reconciling faith with science and reason, Aquinas strikes a grand bargain. He gets canonized by the Roman Catholic Church. The ideas he advances in Summa Theologica on natural rights as the basis for judging Good and Evil form the foundation of our legal system. When Thomas Jefferson writes ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,’ he echoes Thomas Aquinas.”

“Huh! Inari, it sounds like Summa Theologica is propaganda, right? I mean, Aquinas obviously had an agenda. He’s not seeking or sharing truth. Mostly, Aquinas is spreading lies. So why did people believe him?”

“That is the question, isn’t it, Jo? Does a philosopher enter the canon by being right or by being useful to the masses or to the powers that be? Not all philosophy is truth! People believe what they want. Saint Thomas Aquinas wrote at a time when popes had more power than kings, and the Catholic Church led the Crusades and the Inquisition. Joan of Arc was burned at the stake for heresy, and for wearing men’s clothes. Galileo died under house arrest for defending heliocentrism. Contrary to popular opinion, the history of might makes right is long and bends justice to its will. Case in point — Jo, how do animals fare in Saint Aquinas’ grand bargain?”

“Aquinas says that animals exist for the sake of man.”

“Yes. Aquinas uses science, philosophy, and the Bible to make his argument. And this belief is useful to the church, academia, government, industry, and the masses. Our culture rests on the idea we can exploit animals yet pay no price and feel no guilt. Tragically, the suffering of creatures is an externality, as is the destruction of habitat. It doesn’t count. It’s easy to ignore. This modern way of thinking without feeling paved the way for factory farms, climate change, and mass extinction.”

“But, Inari, doesn’t it make you angry?”

“Of course it does. I’m no stranger to rage. But I don’t find anger to be helpful. I’m not a warrior. I’m a philosopher. I seek truth and speak truth. That’s why I’m writing a book about animals. Robin Wall Kimmerer says, ‘The most important thing each of us can know is our unique gift and how to use it in the world.’ The book is mine. Jo, what’s yours? Give it some thought. Class dismissed.”

Time for a goat walk. It’s been our daily habit, ever since I dreamed that I was Toffy. I felt so guilty. I had no idea that the goats were bored. I wish I could let them free range. But it’s too dangerous. So we take walks through our pastures and woods. It’s their favorite time of day, and mine. To watch goats graze is my meditation. And it’s when I get to reflect on what I’m reading and what Inari is teaching. Food for thought! As long I keep Eva on the leash, the kids stay close. Goats are so curious. They sniff and nibble everything — grass, weeds, leaves — but they only eat the good stuff. Often, they run, spin, jump, and kick. My goats dance for joy. Life doesn’t get any better!

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A chapter from Animals Are People by Peter Morville