Animals Are People

A chapter from Animals Are People by Peter Morville

Chapter 5

The street is dark and deserted. That’s why I picked Sunday evening. Most folks hunker down early. This neighborhood has no sidewalks or streetlights. Still, it’s never pitch black in the city. I can see well enough for the task at hand. I leave the door of Mom’s Subaru Crosstrek ajar. All the interior lights are off. So are all the lights in the house. They go to bed at nine-thirty every night. Dad’s trail cam comes in handy. I’m wearing a black sweater, black jeans, and a black cap pulled down. And on the drive up from Scottsville to Charlottesville, I switched the plates. I’m mindful of all the meddlesome doorbell cameras and dash cams. These days, it’s hard to be a thief.

As I unlatch the gate, a rustle makes me jump. I turn, only to spot the fluttering of a candy wrapper stuck in the sewer grate. Yesterday was Halloween. And now it’s me who’s spooked. My heart is in my throat. It’s a good plan. I did my homework. I practiced a dozen times. I left the engine running and disabled the auto stop-start. I know how to open the back door of the coop. I learned that hens sleep with one eye open but are unlikely to make a fuss. While half their brain rests, the other half remains alert. But a chicken removed from her roost will most likely play dead. Still, it’s a brazen act, even for me. In Virginia, stealing poultry is a serious felony. I could go to prison.

Folks would think I’m batshit crazy. Why risk your life for a chicken? But I had a dream. Well, a vision. How else could I know the details? I saw my owner’s house through the bars of my cage. The rich colors and subtle shades of nearby homes and gardens were oddly beautiful in the morning sun. And the scale was off. Everything was huge.

Still, I knew the neighborhood immediately. I was pecking kernels of corn in the dirt when a crow flew overhead. I saw both corn and crow at the same time. Each eye worked independently. That blew my mind. But mostly I felt alone. Not long ago, I had a flock. It was chaos. Dozens of chicks hustling for food, water, and status. Nothing to see but filthy walls and fluorescent lights. At times, the squawk and stink were too much. But it was good to belong. Now, alone in a cage, I had no reason to live. My anguish was unbearable. I reached under my wing, plucked a white down feather, and dropped it in the dirt, stared at the bloody tip. It hurt like hell, yet it felt strangely satisfying.

I awoke with fierce conviction. I had to save that chicken! So here I am. I creep through the darkness to the coop and drop an envelope with a note through the bars of the run.

My note says, “ANIMALS ARE PEOPLE. CHICKENS ARE SOCIAL. THEY HATE TO BE ALONE. ALSO, THE RUN IS TOO SMALL. YOU ARE GUILTY OF CRUELTY. THIS HEN HAS BEEN LIBERATED. WE WILL BE WATCHING. — ANIMAL LIBERATION FRONT.”

I walk around the coop, quietly open the back door, and there’s Buffy. It’s the perfect name, since she’s a Buff Orpington. Plus, Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a total badass, and we just had Halloween. I gently lift her into my arms, walk briskly to the car, sit down with Buffy in my lap, gently close the door, and drive off into the night.

I do have a crate, just in case, but as long as Buffy’s asleep or playing dead, I’ll drive all the way to Fox Holler with her in my lap. I warned Gage that I’d be dropping off a hen. He nodded, smiled, and put a finger to his lips. Yep. I get it. Don’t ask. Don’t tell. Buffy will be crated for a week or so. Just until Gage’s hens get to know her. And then, Buffy can free range with her new friends all day long. I can’t wait.

I hope I’m not too sleepy in the morning. I’m actually looking forward to class. We’ll be talking about Pythagoras, the world’s first vegetarian. I could use moral support. I told my parents I won’t eat with them until they stop eating animals. They’re angry, especially Dad.

But what can they do? I was lucky they let me “go to the movies with a friend” on Sunday night. It will be good to talk with Inari. I’d love to tell Inari about Buffy, but doubt they’d approve. As Ingrid Newkirk says, “thinkers may prepare revolutions, but bandits must carry them out.”

“You’re late, Jo. Again. I thought we hashed this out.”

After I overslept, I skipped breakfast and rushed through my morning chores. But I just couldn’t make up the time.

“I’m so sorry, Inari. I had a chicken emergency. A hen needed help. It won’t happen again.” It’s not a lie, exactly.

“Oh No! Jo, is your hen okay?”

“Yep. I got the poor dear all sorted out, Inari, and now my beautiful hen is happy as a dead pig in sunshine!”

“Jo, what on earth?”

“It’s Southside slang. If a pig dies and dries in the sun, its skin pulls back into a toothy grin. It’s horrible, right?”

“Well, Jo, if language is a lens into culture, I’m happy I don’t live in the Old South. Now, we’re running behind. Let’s get a move on. What do you think about Pythagoras?”

“I’m a fan. He invented the Pythagorean Theorem, so obviously he was a genius. And then he created vegetarianism. I love the speech he gave in Crotona. He says, ‘Alas! What a crime is it, for entrails to be buried in entrails, and for one ravening body to grow fat on other carcasses crammed into it; and for one living creature to exist through the death of another living creature!’ My dude don’t hold back. Finally, a philosopher on our side!”

“Oh Jo, isn’t it pretty to think so? But you fell into my trap. You didn’t question your sources. In truth, we know next to nothing about Pythagoras. He wrote nothing. The earliest source on his teachings is a satirical poem composed after his death in which Pythagoras intercedes on behalf of a dog that’s being beaten, because he recognizes in its cries the voice of a dead friend. So we think he believed in reincarnation. And we know he founded a community of followers around his teachings and beliefs, and Pythagoreanism spread across Greece and Italy for centuries after his death. But most of what we think we know about Pythagoras is myth and legend.”

“But, Inari, what about his speech in Crotona?”

“Pythagoras gives that speech in Metamorphoses, a Latin narrative poem written five hundred years after his death, in which Ovid playfully mixes fact and fiction to great effect. It’s one of the most influential works in Western culture. And you’re not the first to fall for its verisimilitude. A thousand years later, Michel de Montaigne quoted the speech in his essay On Cruelty. And until the word vegetarian was coined in the 1840s, we called them Pythagoreans. Famous advocates of the Pythagorean diet included Percy Bysshe Shelley and Leo Tolstoy. Oh, and Pythagoras didn’t discover ‘A squared plus B squared equals C squared.’ That formula was in widespread use more than a thousand years before his time. The Egyptians needed it to build the pyramids.”

“Wow! No more trusting teachers and textbooks. Inari, I wonder how much of what I think I know is simply wrong.”

“Winston Churchill said, ‘history is written by the victors.’ Except he didn’t. Like most famous quotes, it’s a misquotation. Our desire for gods and heroes is strong. We bend the truth to tell a story that puts a man on a pedestal. But why? Because it works. Monkey see, monkey do.”

“It’s embarrassing, really. I was excited to have an ancient Greek philosopher on my team. I used him to zing my mom. But who cares what Pythagoras thought? I don’t need validation from an old, dead man who claimed that eating fava beans makes you fart out the souls of the dead.”

“Jo, you sure do have a way with words. And I love your spirit. But it’s worth broadening our inquiry beyond ghost farts. Why are we taught to revere the ancient Greeks? We are told they invented democracy. But they were hardly the first people to hold a vote. Nor did the Greeks invent art, literature, philosophy, math, or science. Personally, I suspect Renaissance men used fifth century Athens to bind natural law with patriarchy. After all, it was an exclusive democracy. Participation was limited to adult male citizens. Women, children, and slaves had no rights. In fact, the term patriarchy comes from a Greek word meaning ‘rule by the father.’ So, of course our founding fathers were philhellenists. Jefferson was a big fan. He read and wrote in Greek.”

“Well, Inari, that explains a lot. I hate men!”

“I do too, sometimes, but culture is partly to blame. The Greeks put Man on a pedestal. And he’s still there. That’s why I want us to step back and consider the history of humanity. Okay, Jo?”

“Yes, but can we take a bio break?”

Inari gives me five minutes. I haven’t eaten since yesterday lunch. I race downstairs, open up the fridge, and there’s nothing. Unless you count Dad’s leftovers. Mom picked up dinner from Dr. Ho’s Humble Pie two nights ago. I had a small Buddha. Mom chose a chef salad. And Dad got a large pepperoni. Since I couldn’t eat with them, I sat on my bed with a soggy slice of vegan pizza and tried to ignore the delicious carnivorous aromas wafting up the staircase.

Now I’m starving. I have no time. And the pepperoni is right there. God, I can’t resist. Dad won’t notice a missing slice. I dart outside and plunge into guilty pleasure. It’s so bloody good. Then I’m back in my room. I wipe grease off my lips, take a deep breath, and our class resumes.

“Okay, Jo, so let’s zoom out. Our history is mostly unwritten. All life on earth is the result of three billion years of evolution. Our ancestors began walking on two legs roughly four million years ago. We only invented writing five thousand years ago. The vast majority of our history is prehistory. Hundreds of thousands of years of intergenerational wisdom and culture. Lost.”

“It’s not all lost. We know they were hunter-gatherers.”

“Yes, though gatherer-hunters is a better name, as our diet was mostly plant-based. We’ve been able to learn quite a bit through anthropology and archeology and from the indigenous peoples our society hasn’t yet assimilated or genocided. That’s why it’s silly to fixate on a man. Who cares what Pythagoras ate? Our ancestors were mostly vegetarians. Ethics aside, that’s the diet we evolved for. But what I want to address is animism. Know what that is, Jo?”

“It’s an ancient religion, right? Way back when, animists believed that everything had a soul, even rocks.”

“Close. Animism is a mix of spiritual insights and beliefs shared by indigenous peoples and their ancestors. It’s not a religion. It’s a category invented by us to explain them. The term was popularized in nineteenth century England by anthropologist Sir Edward Tylor. In his 1871 book, Primitive Culture, he described animism as the earliest form of religion and as a mistake made by savages that must be superseded by modern science and Christianity.”

“He sounds like an asshole!”

“Well, Tylor is guilty of cultural supremacy. But he doesn’t matter. Let’s focus on their beliefs. The world is alive. Humans aren’t the only beings who are sentient. We are an integral part of ecosystems. All life deserves respect and reciprocity. Nature is sacred. Rocks and rivers are alive and ensouled. Jo, it’s only us who get stuck on that last point. We miss the forest for the conscious trees.”

“What’s the forest?”

“The forest is the commonality of belief. Our ancestors were separated by distance and time and yet shared remarkably similar insights about our place in the world. In our first class, you told me, when you were a child, you knew your dog was a person. You said it was obvious, Jo. And it is. Until we’re taught that God granted us Dominion — only we have souls, only we are conscious. The contrast between the two faiths is stark, because it’s a true binary — equality or hierarchy. You can’t have both!”

“Wow! I never thought of it that way. Inari, it does often seem that in today’s society as if equality is a bad word.”

“Years ago, my brother was grumbling about his girls. All three of them were in primary school. They’d fight. He’d punish. They’d cry ‘that’s not fair!’ And you know what he told them? He said, ‘Fair is for stupid people!’ At the time, I was both shocked and intrigued. You know why, Jo?”

“Your brother’s not right. That’s a horrible thing to teach children. But he’s not wrong either. Our society isn’t fair.”

“Exactly. That’s what I thought too. My brother was preparing his girls for life in the patriarchy.”

“Inari, that really gets my goat. It’s as if we live in a pyramid scheme, built by Plato, Aristotle, and Aquinas.”

“Hierarchy is the basis of patriarchy. Our culture is obsessed with supremacy. It’s reflected in our philosophy. Then we have animism — all life is sacred — a universal belief in equality that’s endured for hundreds of thousands of years. Jo, it’s our culture that’s the aberration. And it’s completely unsustainable. In the blink of an eye, we’ve devastated Earth. Our culture is self-terminating. Jo, if you’re brave enough to face the truth, I suggest that you read a terrifying philosophical novel called Ishmael.”

“But, Inari, you just yelled at me for believing Ovid’s story about Pythagoras. Why in the world would I trust fiction?”

“I didn’t yell at you. But it’s a good question. I expect your mum may not agree, but I see fiction and non-fiction, the primary organizing principle of bookstores and libraries, as a false binary. It’s a mistake to judge a book by the shelf it stands on. Think and feel your way to your truth. I’m not saying believe what you want. I urge due diligence. All maps are traps. Every map hides more than it shows. Fact checks, critical thinking, and perceptive feeling are key. It’s easy to reveal Pythagoras as a myth. But read Ishmael, and you’ll find a truth that’s impossible to unsee.”

“Okay, Inari. Now I’m curious. What truth?”

“I won’t tell you. You must read the book, Jo. A good story is an odyssey. There is no shortcut. For now, let’s learn from a couple of modern animists. First, there’s Tyson Yunkaporta. He’s an indigenous Australian of the Apalech clan, who speaks Wik Mungkan and teaches at university. So Tyson understands both aboriginal and modern worlds. In his book, Sand Talk, he explains that rocks are alive, sentient, and spirited. To be honest, that’s a bridge too far, even for me. I agree rocks deserve respect. But I am unable to think or feel that rocks are alive. How about you, Jo?”

“Nope. It makes about as much sense as tits on a bull.”

Inari can’t help but crack a smile. Yet, in true British fashion, they keep calm and carry on. “Of course, I am also unable to believe Jesus exorcized demons from men into pigs. And, Jo, if you look past the rocks, you’ll discover gifts from sixty-five thousand years of indigenous wisdom. Tyson speaks of songlines or ‘ancient paths of Dreaming etched into the landscape in song and story.’ And he says,”

Emu is a troublemaker who brings into being the most destructive idea in existence: I am greater than you; you are less than me. This is the source of all human misery. Aboriginal society was designed over thousands of years to deal with this problem.

“Equality over hierarchy. That’s the opposite of us!”

“Sure is, Jo. Wisdom baked into culture to contain narcissism. We could use that right about now. But it’s not so easy. There’s a language barrier. Tyson says English obscures understanding by centering settler worldviews. This perspective is shared by Robin Wall Kimmerer, a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation and a professor of environmental and forest biology. Robin writes ‘English doesn’t give us many tools for incorporating respect for animacy. In English you are either a human or a thing.’ She says, ‘in Potawatomi, verbs outnumber nouns, pronouns don’t force a male-female binary, trees and hills are alive, and nobody is an it.’ Inspiring, right?”

“It is. When I used to walk Knowsy, back in Ann Arbor, people told their dogs to ‘leave it alone.’ I hated that.”

“I don’t blame you. Words are spells, and pronouns spell power. An it is not a person or a subject but an object to be exploited. That’s the wisdom of animism. No externalities. There is no moral circle. No inside. No outside. We are all part of nature. We are all one. What do you think?”

“Inari, all of this is so vastly different from what I’ve been taught. But animism feels right. I want to learn more. And I definitely did not expect to go from Pythagoras to hunter-gatherers to animism. It’s been a really fun class!”

“I’m happy to hear that. Tyson Yunkaporta says, ‘we don’t have a word for nonlinear in our languages because nobody would consider traveling, thinking, or talking in a straight line.’ In today’s wiggly class, I wanted to show you how philosophers, like pronouns, are used to wield power. Jo, a man on a pedestal is a tool of persuasion and distraction. Beware, here lie dragons! The canon is a map that’s hiding more than it reveals. So we study the map, and we stray beyond it too. Seek and ye shall find indigenous wisdom buried under Greek statues. See you next week!”

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A chapter from Animals Are People by Peter Morville