Animal Suffering E-Book
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This interdisciplinary volume deals with the most painful situations encountered by animals in the wild or under human guardianship. It seeks to illustrate some remarkable cases and present a general picture of the commodification of animals. This volume starts with an exploration of the capture of animals intended for European zoological parks, the treatment of animals in South Korea, pig farming in China and animal testing in Europe. It goes on to explore animal politics, with a focus on Europe. The moral problems posed by the different types of harm caused to animals are then approached from the vantage point of moral philosophy. Finally, the points of view of veterinary sciences and applied ethics related to animal emotions, suffering and death complete the picture.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Introduction: What Does It Mean, to See Animals?
References
1 Extraction and Captive Management of Wild Animals, 18th Century to Present Day
1.1. Preamble: ancient practices
1.2. Birth of the modern zoo: new forms of animal captivity
1.3. The rise of the animal trade
1.4. A collective appropriation of wildlife
1.5. The confinement of wild animals
1.6. Zoo ethics
1.7. Captive breeding
1.8. Capture and conservation
1.9. References
2 Pig Welfare in China
2.1. Introduction
2.2. Pig farming: an overview
2.3. Animal welfare
2.4. Conclusion
2.5. References
3 Dogs “Outside the Law”: An Ethnographic Look at Animal Lives in South Korea
3.1. Introduction
3.2. Talking about South Korean dogs in order to talk about animal lives
3.3. Animal lives in markets
3.4. On the condition of the dogs
3.5. Conclusion
3.6. References
4 The Legal Status of Animals in European Law
4.1. Introduction
4.2. Institutionalized suffering
4.3. Normalized suffering
4.4. List of abbreviations
4.5. References
5 How Do the Regulations and the Various Stakeholders Take the Pain of Animals Subjected to Experimental Procedures into Account?
5.1. Animal experimentation: figures and regulatory approach to animal pain
5.2. How are the regulations regarding the assessment of pain in animals used for scientific or educational purposes applied?
5.3. The obstacles to taking animal interests into account
5.4. Conclusion
5.5. References
6 Altruism Towards Animals and the Economy
6.1. Introduction
6.2. Methods for assessing altruism towards animals
6.3. Main results
6.4. Limitations and perspectives
6.5. References
7 Causing Pain versus Killing
7.1. Introduction
7.2. Animals and the harm of death
7.3. Population ethics
7.4. Metaethics
7.5. Conclusion
7.6. References
8 Wild Animal Suffering
8.1. What does the term “wild animal suffering” mean?
8.2. What the lives of wild animals are like
8.3. The ethical case for helping wild animals, summarized
8.4. Epistemic objections
8.5. Promoting scientific work in welfare biology
8.6. Conclusion
8.7. References
9 Reflections on the Ethics of Veterinary Medicine
9.1. Introduction
9.2. Is medical practice ethical?
9.3. What kind of ethics?
9.4. Another view
9.5. Conclusion
9.6. References
10 Pain and Fear in Fishes: Implications for the Humane Use of Fishes
10.1. The use of fishes
10.2. Pain in fish
10.3. Fear in fish
10.4. Implications in the use of fishes
10.5. Conclusion
10.6. References
11 Welfare, Sentience and Pain: Concepts, Ethics and Attitudes
11.1. Welfare
11.2. One health, one welfare, one biology
11.3. Sentience
11.4. Pain
11.5. Welfare and moral actions
11.6. References
Conclusion: Animal Suffering, Multiple Paradigms Revealed
C.1. References
List of Authors
Index
End User License Agreement
List of Tables
Chapter 6
Table 6.1.
Results of the “Vingt Mesures pour les Animaux” project (Espinosa 2
...
List of Illustrations
Chapter 2
Figure 2.1.
China’s pork production: 1978–2019
Figure 2.2.
Pig farms by scale of production: 2017. Source: China Animal Husba
...
Guide
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Introduction: What Does It Mean, to See Animals?
Table of Contents
Begin Reading
Conclusion: Animal Suffering, Multiple Paradigms Revealed
List of Authors
Index
WILEY END USER LICENSE AGREEMENT
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SCIENCESBiology, Field Director – Marie-Christine MaurelBioethics, Subject Head – Marie-Geneviève Pinsart
Animal Suffering
The Ethics and Politics of Animal Lives
Coordinated by
Florence BurgatEmilie Dardenne
First published 2023 in Great Britain and the United States by ISTE Ltd and John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms and licenses issued by the CLA. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside these terms should be sent to the publishers at the undermentioned address:
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© ISTE Ltd 2023The rights of Florence Burgat and Emilie Dardenne to be identified as the authors of this work have been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed in this material are those of the author(s), contributor(s) or editor(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of ISTE Group.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022941471
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication DataA CIP record for this book is available from the British LibraryISBN 978-1-78945-121-4
ERC code:LS9 Applied Life Sciences, Biotechnology, and Molecular and Biosystems Engineering LS9_3 Applied animal sciences (including animal breeding, veterinary sciences, animal husbandry,animal welfare, aquaculture, fisheries, insect gene drive)SH5 Cultures and Cultural Production SH5_10 Ethics; social and political philosophy
IntroductionWhat Does It Mean, to See Animals?
Florence BURGAT
Archives Husserl, Ecole Normale Supérieure, Paris, France
Visibility in thought cannot be superimposed onto that of perception; it may be completely independent of it. Are we not able to see, or have in our perceptive field, such individuals or groups of individuals, injustice or misery, yet not pay attention to what we are seeing? Our eyes become accustomed to everything, our conscience knows how to whiten the dark spots; without forgetting, life would not be possible. All existence feeds on this oblivion, because an acute awareness of all the sufferings present in the world at any time could lead to a prohibition on living. However, there is a big difference between putting the evils that we can do nothing about to one side and perpetuating a good number of them through our behaviors. By revealing the suffering of victims, and their resistance to the treatments inflicted on them, without which it would be easy to consider them as indifferent to their own fate, we encounter the full diversity of sensibilities within a society. Thus, it is likely that the glass abattoir imagined by Jean-Marie Coetzee, in a collection of short stories of the same name (Coetzee 2018, pp. 131–166), would only provoke lasting horror and the impulse for personal change (deciding to stop eating meat, for example), among those who are immediately willing to see, because it is always possible for us to look away and cover our ears. We recall the well-known passage from the Discourse on the Origin and Basis of Inequality Among Men: “It is reason that engenders self-love, and reflection that strengthens it; it is reason that makes man shrink into himself; it is reason that makes him keep aloof from everything that can trouble or afflict him: it is philosophy that destroys his connections with other men; it is in consequence of her dictates that he mutters to himself, at the sight of another in distress: you may perish for aught I care, nothing can hurt me” (Rousseau 1964, p. 156). Is it not often enough for us to adhere to a narrative that reinforces our position of indifference or exteriority? History teaches us this over and over again. It would therefore be naive for us to think that it would be enough to bring to light what has been kept secret, kept in the shadows or never named, to make visible what is not only invisible (materially) but invisibilized (politically), so that the order of values that quietly places animals on the side of goods available for all the uses that please us collapses. (Julien Dugnoille’s contribution on the practices observed in the largest “wet market” in South Korea, a market where animals, especially dogs, can be sold while still alive, and then killed on the spot or taken away, alive, by the buyers, seems to confirm this.)
Moral visibility, we might call it, this visibility that owes nothing to any real presence of animals around us. Moreover, this is a presence that we do not want; the history of animals in human societies is largely one of their eradication. Let not the few laws protecting “endangered species” distract us from appreciating things. Indeed, if certain species must be protected, it is because their extermination threatens some of the benefits that their activities offer us; it is not for themselves that they are protected. Moreover, if their protection is too successful, some of them change category and are then declared by lawmakers as “harmful” or, according to the new rhetoric that does not have to realistically imitate what it qualifies, “species likely to cause damage” (French ministerial decree, July 2021). This eradication is more active than ever: directly (targeting animals specifically), indirectly (polluting their habitats or suppressing them) or, paradoxically, by the potentially endless cycle of production, immediately followed by destruction, then new production destined for the same fate, and so on. So it is with the animals we eat, the date of their slaughter conditioning that of their birth – which is why Jacques Derrida judges that the metaphor of genocide should not be overused, “because it is complicated here: the annihilation of species, certainly, would apply, but it [genocide] would pass through the organization and the exploitation of an artificial, infernal, virtually interminable survival” (Derrida 2006, pp. 46–47). The same is true of the wild animals that, in our regions in any case, hunters feed (in the case of wild boars) to encourage their development and justify killing them on the grounds that, because there are too many of them, they ravage the crops, or that they breed (in the case of pheasants) in order to release them on hunting days.
The great divide between “them and us” is accompanied by a radical separation that is both physical and theoretical and which reinforces both sides, an attitude “typical of Western man”, according to Canguilhem, while “the mechanization of life, from the theoretical point of view, and the technical use of animals are inseparable” (Canguilhem 1998, p. 111). The industrialization of all fields of activity made possible by the scientific (genetics) and technical (biotechnologies) development, the extraordinary human demographic growth and the resulting urbanization, has had a double consequence: on the one hand, the massive and planned “production” of animals intended to feed a humanity that has become carnivorous in unheard-of proportions, and, on the other hand, in order to “rationalize” this production, the keeping of animals in enclosed spaces on the outskirts of cities or in the countryside.
This invisibility – the not seeing of animals, not hearing them, not suspecting their existence and not knowing anything about the kind of life they lead and the death that follows in the breeding farms, laboratories and slaughterhouses – is partly the result of invisibilization. For, while this stocking, and more precisely this confinement1, is a response to obvious sanitation reasons, it perhaps responds, above all, to political reasoning. The progressive prohibition of the slaughter of animals in the streets was motivated by hygienic imperatives, but it was also judged to be harmful to social morality, to relations between humans, because of the violence that it exhibited on a daily basis, and therefore trivialized. Neither could laboratories, where experiments are carried out, of which there are infinitely more than at the time of Claude Bernard and which it would be wrong to believe no longer resembled what he himself called vivisections (see Muriel Obriet’s contribution on animal experimentation in Europe), be places open to the public. Here again, while there are obvious reasons to generally prohibit public access to laboratories, it is above all a question of not letting anything that takes place there be revealed. How can we fail to note that here it is primarily a question of doing harm to animals (primum nocere), whereas Hippocrates’ sermon states that the human medical field is primarily about doing no harm (primum non nocere)? Philippe Devienne’s reflections on the ethics of veterinary medicine re-establish the Hippocratic proposition and establish the imperative of treating these patients, which are also animals. With regard to animal experimentation, it seems that public opinion is divided between two beliefs: that of the absolute necessity of resorting to it, failing which we would suffer countless pains and that of incredulity, particularly concerning experiments other than those that fall within the scope of medical research (which nevertheless constitute 70% of procedures). It is true that, unless we choose to be informed, no one can imagine the extent and the cruelty of the practices carried out, in all legality, against animals, whether domestic or wild, terrestrial or aquatic; thus, animal defense associations consider that their first mission is to inform about the reality of animal conditions.
The history of sensitivities moves together with that of ideas. The battles here are fought on a ridge line. While ideas have won the first battle – that of recognizing that animals have interests of their own and that it is morally questionable not to take them into account (the discussion concerns the extent of this consideration – see Romain Espinosa’s contribution on altruism towards animals in economics) – opponents of this point of view, measuring the mutation of sensitivities, are working to invisibilize the worst treatments. Animal opponents make us forget the real conditions of their exploitation, diverting our attention to supposed “new relationships” that include the mind-boggling idea of a “respectful” killing. Is killing ever respectful? Apart from the case of euthanasia, whose purpose is to shorten intense and incurable suffering, which is not respectful of the individual but rather compassionate, killing will never have anything to do with respect, except in the deviation of the terms according to a tendency that is particularly marked today; do we not talk about the ethics of hunting and of animal experimentation, the protection of animals in slaughterhouses? This is poor ethics and poor protection! (See Tatjana Višak’s contribution, which restores their meaning and their significance for the victim itself: suffering, on the one hand, and death, on the other hand.)
By parodying Kant’s words, the aim of this soothing rhetoric is to abolish knowledge in order to make room for belief. If everything is hidden from view, if newspeak calls things by their opposite2, if arguments get involved in their turn, playing on tradition, on cultural foundations, evoking the end of humanity both physically and metaphysically (the things you hear) and if humanity should one day stop breeding animals to eat them, it is easy for all those who do not know, who do not see – and who neither want to see or know – to adhere to the stories thus fomented. These narratives assert that using animals is essential, which prevents the imagination from moving towards other practices and relationships than those that end with the blood of animals; that it is desirable to maintain all forms of use, but avoiding “unnecessary suffering” (as specified in various legislations), which suggests that a good will presides over the organization exploiting and killing; that the “well-being” of animals is, even in situations where its mention seems particularly irrelevant, a constant preoccupation of institutions, which has the consequence of making us forget the reality of genetic modifications that affect the health of animals, of mutilations, of confinement in cages or buildings, of the duration of transport (up to around 50 hours or even days by boat), of slaughter (see Fabien Marchadier’s contribution on the legal status of animals in European Union law). It does not take more than this for us to be able to sleep peacefully because we do not see and do not want to know.
However, animals have acquired visibility in the academic world. What is this about? We must unceasingly remember that questioning the legitimacy of the violence against animals has always, from the beginning, accompanied this violence, splitting humanity into two with the image of the two forces, Eros and Thanatos, which govern all things. A part of humanity tries to protect what the other mistreats, violates and destroys. The scientific interest in the ways of life of animals; the analysis of their status in human societies and the condition that societies reserve to them; the writing of their history with the measurement of these data; the notably moral philosophical questions raised by practices to which animals have been subjected, that have always been restrictive, indifferent to their own interests and very often cruel; the anthropological questions raised, in return, by the institution of humanity’s universal hatred of animals, are now undeniably anchored in the field of thought.
In recent decades, the so-called “animal question” has acquired an undeniable visibility in the academic world, and this book is a new example. By way of illustration3, we can mention the inclusion of the theme “The Animal” in the curriculum of the entrance exam to the grandes écoles for the French general culture test (2020) and in that of the external philosophy agrégation (2012). Recent French baccalaureate exams (series E and S in 2018) have invited students to reflect on the moral problems posed by the violence inflicted on animals. The new curricula explicitly include a reflection on “human and animal”, a formulation that is both simple and problematic and that invites reflection from the outset. Moreover, more and more young researchers across various disciplines are choosing to devote their doctoral thesis to a subject related to the animal question. Fortunately, this is no longer a laughing matter in universities. Thus, along the way, from being an anti-notion used to designate the inverse or the negative of the human – a sort of entity deprived of any quality, attribute or disposition, ultimately closer to death than life – “the animal” has become a subject that is debated in universities and schools; it has gradually come to life and has escaped from a singularity that denies the multiplicity of life forms. Before humans, no longer stands this universal void (“the animal”, defined by what it lacks and never by the singularity of its wealth), but emerging animals: psychobiological individuals, none of whom is identical to the other, taken in the reefs of a complex existence, made of problems inherent to the fact of surviving and living, loaded with affects, a desiring life and therefore always in want.
Academic publications, as well as militant writings, are multiplying in all countries and, with them, different aspects of the animal condition are being echoed through the media; for it is indeed this condition, in the sense that it is imposed by human societies, which must awaken us from our dogmatic sleep. This question cannot, indeed, be confined to abstract questioning of the ways of being-in-the-world of the life forms that are animals. Moreover, since the diffusion of Jakob von Uexküll’s work on animal worlds (Uexküll 2010), such a way of proceeding is no longer common. Every being-in-the-world is most concrete, since it is a question of living itself, of situations in which it may, or may not, unfold, both for wild or domesticated animals, for those living on land or in the water (on these situations and conditions of life, see the contributions by Peter Li, Lynne Sneddon and Donald Broom). This volume has therefore not committed the sin of abstraction in giving pride of place to the commodification of animals in order to shed light, in an international perspective, on some of the most important areas of this commodification: the history of captive animals in Europe; the institutionalization of experimentation in the same geographical area; the history and legislation of pig farming in China; the anthropology of the animal condition in South Korea. Apart from this commodification, in the wild, the problems encountered by animals and the ensuing suffering had been overlooked, but are now being taken into account and studied (see the contribution of Oscar Horta). The reflexive disciplines (moral philosophy, veterinary ethics, animal welfare science, law, economics) are, in the course of reading, invited to shed their light on this commodification.
The animal question means referring to the animal as the question, and every real question is troubling. It is not enough to produce knowledge about animals in order to highlight their problems and conditions. It is not so much that biological knowledge is feeding this questioning, but more that the history of science shows that it has, essentially, served to increase the zootechnical and experimental hold through the tailored shaping of individuals. The sciences are applied. The knowledge that describes the habits of animals or their psychology (ethology and animal psychology) is again, in the name of supposed scientific neutrality, rarely put at the service of what makes this question a burning issue. The fear of anthropomorphism, this so-called cardinal sin of ethology and its mortal pitfall, stuns many an ethologist who then opts for a description in the third person and is careful not to take a position on the moral debate on the practices of exploitation of animals, about which they would nevertheless have their say4. The ideal of “scientific objectivity” (we would have to have no notion of epistemology to believe in such a thing, especially when it comes to behavior, which necessarily calls for interpretation, since it is itself an interpretation of the world) would thus be achieved at the risk of emptying the object of study of all its substance: in this case, of its psyche. However, certain contemporary ethologists, and not the least of these (think of Jane Goodall, Mark Bekoff and Frans de Waal), are not afraid to think about the theoretical but also practical implications of their discoveries on the complexity of the relational life of animals. They are not afraid to question the image that the mirror, through which our relationships with animals are reflected, displays, as moral philosophy does in a more expected way. It is therefore less the positive knowledge that underpins the animal question than the disciplines that, in essence, invite questions. It is also necessary that the institutional doxa, which ensures the reproduction of ideas and inhibits sideways steps, does not dominate the spirit of research. This growing interest in animals as a question that is asked of us cannot therefore be without a certain moral concern, given that they are, according to the language of the law, subject to the regime of things or goods – two terms here that are synonymous with signifying an owner’s absolute right over them: that of destroying them. It is our hope that this volume will contribute to the formulation of the moral problem posed by humanity’s treatment of animals and help to clarify it.
References
Canguilhem, G. ([1965] 1998).
La connaissance de la vie
. Vrin, Paris.
Coetzee, J.-M. (2018).
L’abattoir de verre
. Le Seuil, Paris.
Derrida, J. (2006).
L’animal que donc je suis
. Galilée, Paris.
Rousseau J.-J. ([1755] 1964).
Discours sur l’origine et les fondements de l’inégalité parmi les hommes
. Gallimard/Bibliothèque de la Pléiade, Paris.
von Uexküll, J. ([1934] 2010).
A Foray into the Worlds of Animals and Humans, with A Theory of Meaning
, translated by Joseph D. O’Neil. University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis.
Notes
1
. Animal science uses the term “intensive, confined animal husbandry” and speaks of “keeping” animals in these permanently enclosed and overcrowded places.
2
. For example, “piglet processing” refers to tail docking and castration without anesthesia, “nest balancing” refers to the “slamming” of sick or unhealthy piglets against a wall, “stunning” refers to an electric shock to the head or a gunshot to the skull, and so on.
3
. In order not to turn this illustration into a catalog, we are limiting ourselves to a few French examples.
4
. We would like, by way of illustration, to underline how few ethologists agreed to sign the tribune published in the newspaper
Le Monde
(March 7, 2021, p. 32) under the title “Can the menagerie of the
Jardin des Plantes
boast of possessing Nénette, an orangutan locked up since 1972?” Not only did the researchers of the Muséum National d’Histoire Naturelle, owner of this menagerie, refuse to do so, but also those who had some connection with them then (on the history of this zoo, see the contribution of Violette Pouillard).
1Extraction and Captive Management of Wild Animals, 18th Century to Present Day
Violette POUILLARD1,2
1 LARHA, CNRS, Lyon, France
2 Ghent University, Belgium
1.1. Preamble: ancient practices
The keeping of wild animals in captivity dates back to ancient times and has been practiced in many parts of the world. It played not only a food role, with game parks, but also an ornamental and ostentatious role. Animals exhibited during the Roman games bore witness to the splendor of the organizers, to their supremacy over the wild world and to imperial expansion. In the Middle Ages, many aristocrats and ruling elites in Central Europe, the Byzantine Empire or the Umayyad Caliphate in Cordoba maintained ostentatious menageries in addition to game parks. The aristocratic and princely menageries of the modern era showed, in turn, the political power, pomp and culture of their owners, as well as the support given to learned enterprises. Ottoman sultans kept felines, elephants and many other animals in their menageries, and the one belonging to Suleiman the Magnificent in Constantinople included a lion house and a menagerie of pachyderms (Faroqhi 2008; Trinquier 2011; Beck and Guizard 2012; Lesage 2019). In France, the menagerie at Versailles, built by order of Louis XIV in 1664, was the heart of a vast anatomical dissection enterprise that relied on the cadavers of its captive animals (Guerrini 2015). The institution also embodied a shift in sensibilities regarding captivity, which is why animals were mostly kept in outdoor yards. However, this presentation was primarily for scenographic purposes, as the wings of the flying birds were mutilated in order to keep them on the ground in the yards and to give visitors the illusion of greater freedom. Moreover, animal fights were still in vogue and were featured in a seraglio built at Vincennes on the orders of Louis XIV, completed three years before the menagerie (Sahlins 2017). A democratization of access to wild animals began to take shape in the 18th century, with the princely menageries becoming more open to the public, and also with the development of commercial and fairground menageries, which was made possible by the intensification of animal extraction and circulation (see section 1.3).
1.2. Birth of the modern zoo: new forms of animal captivity
The menagerie at Versailles, whose sumptuous management crystallized criticism, was abolished during the revolutionary period. However, in 1792, Jacques-Henri Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, intendant of Paris’ Jardin des Plantes, an institution founded in 1626 as a royal medicinal garden and which had become a center of French natural history, developed the project of establishing a national menagerie that would serve the work of natural history and public instruction (Laissus 1993, pp. 76–82; Spary 2005). The project, established within a turbulent political context, did not materialize immediately, but the Jardin des Plantes menagerie was formed in 1793 by the arrival of show animals seized from the public highway for security reasons and deposited in the Muséum National d’Histoire Naturelle, the former and now nationalized Jardin des Plantes. Seized animals from the stripped princely menageries were added to it, soon followed by acquisitions. The Jardin des Plantes menagerie, often considered by historians as the first zoological garden, quickly became a model, inspiring the creation of the London Zoological Gardens in 1828, which in turn guided the foundation of many other “zoos” (an abbreviation coined at the beginning of the 19th century), in a context of emulation between urban centers and between nations (Laissus 1993; Baratay and Hardouin-Fugier 1998; Mehos 2006).
The first theoreticians of the Jardin des Plantes menagerie insisted on offering the animals a freer captivity, in particular by placing them in parks (e.g. Lacépède 1804, pp. 17–22). However, reconciling captivity with freedom for the animals proved to be a difficult enterprise. The menagerie was part of the Muséum National d’Histoire Naturelle, a public institution whose vocation was, among other things, to mobilize natural history for the utilitarian purposes of agricultural and commercial development. This aim, which was in line with the agricultural programs of the early modern era, was strengthened by the republican project of improving the resources of the nation, within a context marked by food crises. The menagerie was, in particular, called upon to participate in the work of acclimatizing animals from other lands to the local climate and conditions, in order to improve domestic livestock through crossbreeding and by adding new species (Lacépède 1795; Osborne 1994; Spary 2005). This mission reinforced the understanding of animals as resources whose productivity needed to be improved. While the French Revolution was the catalyst for projects to improve the lot of animals, as part of a broader societal renovation which included the abolition of human slavery, animals were not envisaged in any other way than in the service of humans (Spary 2005; Serna 2017). The acclimatization mission became important in Europe, and by extension in the colonial territories, in the 19th century, but it struggled to establish itself over the long term. It was marginalized from the end of the century, in particular due to the difficulties in acclimatizing animals and finding useful functions for the species being acclimatized, especially at a time of developing mechanization and competition from products from the continents of origin, such as ostrich feathers, in a context of imperial expansion (Osborne 1994; Baratay and Hardouin-Fugier 1998, pp. 177–179).
Another function initially envisaged for the menagerie, the study of the behavior of living animals, in the tradition of Buffon, remained subsidiary. It was first carried out with some success by Frédéric Cuvier, head keeper of the menagerie (1803–1838) and brother of the anatomist Georges Cuvier. However, Cuvier did not succeed in giving this function a solid institutional base. After his death, it was marginalized at the menagerie, as well as other European zoos, the difficulties in studying animals with a strongly constrained existence, and surrounded by increasingly large crowds, appearing to be the determining factor. Despite some exceptions, study programs of captive behaviors were preferentially conducted in laboratories from the 20th century, which saw the rise of scientific ethology. In zoos, the studies of behavior remained largely confined to occasional observations, and the empirical knowledge of keepers and employees in charge of the animals, which was often fine and detailed, was rarely called upon beyond the purposes of daily management (Burkhardt 1997, 2010; Baratay and Hardouin-Fugier 1998, p. 162; Hochadel 2005, 2011).
The scientific function of zoological gardens, often asserted from the beginning, was, in the 19th century, much more in line with the naturalist culture of inventory and classification of the world, which had been developing since the work of Linnaeus, and which was invigorated by imperial expansion. This approach encouraged the collection of large numbers of animals belonging to a wide variety of species. Once dead, many captive animals were mobilized for research in taxonomy (classification), comparative anatomy (analysis of the internal structures of animals) and morphology (study of the interactions between animal structures and their functions), the latter disciplines also serving the order of living things. Dead animals and animal parts joined the display cases and drawers of natural history museums, regularly associated with zoos, many of which were created by zoological societies that also had libraries and exhibition spaces. Above all, the display of a wide variety of animals was encouraged by the educational mission of zoos, as well as by their recreational purpose, which required that spectacular animals (such as lions, bears, elephants, giraffes and monkeys) be displayed to crowds. The care taken to attract visitors was particularly strong in the numerically dominant private institutions, whose existence depended on revenues from paid admissions (Baratay and Hardouin-Fugier 1998; Åkerberg 2001; Mehos 2006).
The triple function of zoos – scientific, educational and recreational – rapidly transformed them into living museums or animated encyclopedias. For example, the aim of the managers of London Zoo in the mid-19th century was to “present as many types of [animal] forms as possible, with the view of illustrating the generic variations of the Animal Kingdom”. In 1864, they boasted that they had “by far the largest and most complete series of living animals in Europe”. By the end of the century, the number of mammals, birds and reptiles alone that could be seen during a visit reached nearly 3,000 animals1. This encyclopedic paradigm required wide-ranging animal circulations in order to populate the cages, especially since the number of zoos multiplied throughout the century. The only Western European zoos founded in the 19th century still in operation in 1912, that is, those which escaped the multiple bankruptcies and closures, included, in addition to the Jardin des Plantes menagerie: London (1828), Dublin (1830), Bristol (1835), Manchester (1836), Amsterdam (1838), Antwerp (1843), Berlin (1844), Marseille (1855), Lyon (1857), Rotterdam (1857), Frankfurt (1858), Copenhagen (1859), Paris (the Jardin d’Acclimatation, 1860), Cologne (1860), Dresden (1861), Hamburg (1863), The Hague (1863), Hanover (1864), Karlsruhe (1864), Breslau (1865), Mulhouse (1868), Düsseldorf (1874), Basel (1874), Münster (1875), Posen (1875), Leipzig (1876), Elberfeld (1879), Lisbon (1883), Stockholm (1891), Barcelona (1892) and Königsberg (1896) (Loisel 1912, pp. 432–434). In 1900, there were 32 zoos in the United States, where the first zoological garden was opened in Philadelphia in 1859 (Kisling 1996).
While some zoo animals were born in captivity, either within the zoos themselves or elsewhere, for example, in the menageries of English aristocrats invested in breeding, who then proceeded to transfer animals (Ritvo 1987, p. 239), most were captured in their natural habitat, all the more so as the great diversity of animals and the presence of crowds constrained captive breeding.
1.3. The rise of the animal trade
In addition to the many animals taken across Europe, the import of captive animals into Europe increased significantly in the early modern era as a consequence of developments in navigation, colonial expansion and scientific exploration. While, in the 16th century, imported animals were mainly ostentatious products that supplied the princely menageries, a dramatic increase in flows occurred in the 18th century, marked by a development of interest in natural history, embodied and encouraged by the popularity of Buffon’s Natural History and the development of the Linnaean classification. The increased commodification of animals was linked to the development of commercial routes, including those of the slave and colonial trades. The trade in live animals involved thousands of individual, mainly small-sized animals every year (such as passerines, parrots and monkeys), imported from Africa, the Americas, India, Australasia or the Pacific Islands. On board ship, animals kept the sailors and travelers company and then, at the ports of arrival, they served as pets, ostentatious gifts, merchandise to be exchanged for money or as specimens that fed the taste for natural history. The commodification of animals was marked by a democratization similar to that which characterized the economy of other imperial products. Access to animals such as African and South American parrots, once reserved for the powerful, was extended to artisans in large urban centers. The pet culture developed, and, with it, fashion, such as canaries, taken from the Canary Islands since the 15th century and popular for their song, now partially reproduced in captivity, and cardinals, imported from the Americas and prized for their scarlet plumage, particularly after the end of the American Revolution in 1782. While only a fraction of animals arrived alive at their destination, their corpses, dissected, naturalized or petrified in alcohol, supplied the growing number of natural history collections (Hamy 1903; Robbins 2002, pp. 9–36; Baldin 2014).
In the 19th century, wild animals and the products extracted from them became mass consumption items, integrated into the first globalization of goods. Their acquisition achieved democratization as a result of a cluster of factors, including: the extension of the European sphere of influence; the extension of the colonial grip; improvements in means of transportation, including rail and steamboat, and communication technologies, such as the telegraph, which allowed for better coordination of supply and demand; the development of trading companies and international trade and the development of sophisticated hunting weapons (Rothfels 2002; Coote et al. 2017). In Europe and the United States, the demand for dead and live animals reached unprecedented levels with the advent of leisure culture and the development of mass entertainment institutions such as menageries, zoological gardens, circuses, natural history museums, which multiplied and opened to the public, private museums and collections, and international and colonial exhibitions (Brandon-Jones 1997; Nance 2013; Coote et al. 2017).
This exposure of wild animals to crowds in turn reinforced the popular culture of appropriation and domestication of the wild. The possession of pets developed strongly in the 19th century, accompanying the bourgeois withdrawal into private space. New fashions emerged, such as that of aquariums from the middle of the century (Lorenzi 2009; Baldin 2014). The period from 1780 to 1950, that of the “civilization of beasts”, marked the peak of the domestic and tame animal presence in Europe, both in rural and urban spaces (Baratay 2008).
The associated thirst for appropriation was fueled by the development and professionalization of trade networks. Stores of naturalized specimens proliferated, supplying museums and private collections (Coote et al. 2017, p. 326). Traders in large live animals operated out of English and German ports (London, Liverpool, Bristol, Hamburg) (Flint 1996; Hanson 2002, pp. 71–84; Rothfels 2002, pp. 45–59). Among them, Carl Hagenbeck, based in Hamburg, developed a merchant empire made up of sprawling networks of collectors, mainly in Africa and Asia. In March 1910 alone, his collectors sent him 20 lions, two cheetahs, six hyenas, 300 monkeys, four rhinoceroses, an elephant, a giraffe, a buffalo, 12 antelopes, 17 Grevy’s zebras, warthogs, four dromedaries, eight horses, 40 ostriches, as well as many “small animals” from Africa, and tigers, leopards, several hundred monkeys, six elephants, antelopes and eight zebus from India (Loisel 1912, p. 327). Hagenbeck opened a Tierpark in 1874, then a zoo in Stellingen, in the suburbs of Hamburg, in 1907. These zoos served as animal storage facilities, training centers, and places for exhibiting animals, and also humans. Thus, in his Tierpark, Hagenbeck exhibited, among others, a family of Sami with reindeer, Sudanese people with horses and camels, “eskimos” with sled dogs, Sri Lankans with elephants, as well as Cameroonians, after the conquest in 1886. He thus contributed to popularizing the exhibition of exoticized humans2, which is age old, but which became commonplace in zoos and colonial exhibitions from the end of the 19th century, to manifest the claims of conquest, “civilization” and domestication of the world extended to humans, themselves thus rejected to the outer limits of humanity with the racist support of physical anthropology (Bancel et al. 2002; Ames 2008; Blanchard et al. 2011; Bruce 2017, pp. 57–96, pp. 137–144).
Several other private zoological gardens invested in commercial policies to increase their financial incomes. This was the case with the Jardin d’Acclimatation in the Bois de Boulogne (1860), where Hagenbeck also presented human exhibits, and the Antwerp Zoological Garden (1843), both of which played an important role in the commodification of animals. According to an account from 1906, at the Antwerp Zoo, “[in] August of each year, for example, the aviaries and reserve stores often contain 50,000 to 60,000 small exotic passerines that are then purchased by dealers and hobbyists” (Loisel 1912, pp. 290–291). World War I brought a halt to the international animal trade and was a near-fatal shock to the Hagenbeck empire (Ames 2008, pp. 223–224). However, zoos, other animal-based industries and developing animal experimentation quickly spurred the resumption of trade. In 1927, the British animal dealer Chapman employed about 20 collectors, 14 of whom were based on the African continent, three in Asia, and others in Oceania and South America3. The appropriation of animals did not rely solely on the professionals of their trade.
1.4. A collective appropriation of wildlife
Political and economic elites in Africa and Asia regularly resorted to capturing wild animals for ostentatious or diplomatic purposes, by using them as gifts or medium of exchange. The practice was reinvigorated by the asymmetric negotiations accompanying European colonial expansion (Bodson 1998; Ringmar 2006; Buquet 2012; Simons 2019). In India, many rulers and notables owned rich menageries, a tradition that partly survived the British occupation. These collections were notably supplied by the port of Calcutta, an important center for animal trade (Brandon-Jones 1997). The injection of a growing number of animals into globalizing transfer networks was thus the result of a complex intertwining of local and global dynamics, political negotiations and colonial servitudes.
The taste for the company of wild animals and for private menageries and natural history collections encouraged an appropriation of animals that was often directly operated by amateurs. Amateur collecting developed considerably in colonial lands, where hunting seemed inseparable from conquest: supported by technological aids, in particular increasingly sophisticated firearms, it participated in the violent mastery of territories, with the big game hunter being “the archetype of imperial man” (MacKenzie 1997; Arzel 2014; Gissibl 2016, pp. 73–79 (citation p. 74), 88–89). Many military personnel, “explorers”, missionaries, colonial administrators and settlers owned naturalistic collections and small menageries out of a hunting and naturalist infatuation, to stave off boredom, to interact with local residents and to maintain ties with the metropolis, where specimens were often brought back or shipped. Collections offered “an illusion of cognitive control” over the colonial experience and environments, while the scholarly veneer conferred on these endeavors served to justify colonial conquest and control (Breckenridge 1989, pp. 209–211 (citation); Bonneuil 1999, pp. 161–165; Arzel 2018, pp. 200–206).
In the colonized territories, captures, operated by a multitude of actors, became a collective appropriation. In addition to their official activities, some settlers engaged in hunting and capture themselves, often in a subsidiary capacity. However, the collections of dead and live animals were mostly supplied by collecting, bartering and buying from rural populations possessing the ethological and technological knowledge necessary for the capture of these resources. Similarly, Western collectors and hunters sent by museums, zoos and traders bought or bartered from rural populations much more than they hunted themselves. Their work consisted mainly of inciting the surrounding populations to engage in mass collection, and then in selecting the captures and grouping those chosen into compounds before shipping them out together. This collective appropriation of animals, with marked environmental effects, whose flows were partially absorbed and redirected by animal traders, reached an unprecedented dimension from the interwar period, a time of territorial apogee that was accompanied by a growth in the European presence in the colonies. Colonial authorities supervised and encouraged appropriation. They regularly took charge of it themselves when it came to the animals most protected by colonial law, which did not so much protect the animals as the new colonial uses that were made of them. Among these, exhibitions in the cages and showcases of the zoos and museums of Western cities occupied pride of place, since they playfully demonstrated to crowds the extent of the conquest, mastery and domestication of the territories, underpinned by an increasingly well-oiled machine (Pouillard 2019).
The claims of efficient colonial management could not, however, hide the deadly economy on which exports were based. On the one hand, many of the young captured were by-products of hunting, recovered near to slaughtered animals. On the other hand, the specific quest for young animals, which were easier to handle and more amenable to human control, set in motion an enterprise of deliberate destruction of adults, especially mammals. For example, the official killings of Eastern gorillas carried out by the Belgian colonial authorities in 1948–1949 in Eastern Congo, by an official Capture Group led by a hunting officer who relied on local labor, resulted in the slaughter of a minimum of 21–28 gorillas for the capture of 12 young gorillas (Pouillard 2015).
The animals that survived the capture operations experienced a period of waiting in captivity compounds and places of deposit and transit, where a new wave of mortality would mow down the individuals most weakened by the social and environmental changes imposed by their extraction. The distances to the ports of departure were sometimes considerable and the means of transport in the 19th century were crude, with the construction of railroads developing gradually in the second half of the century. Carl Hagenbeck, referring to the transportation of animals captured in the Egyptian Sudan by his suppliers to the Red Sea ports, noted that “in spite of the care given to them, many […] succumb on the way” (Hagenbeck 1951 [1908], p. 153). The animals then underwent a sea voyage from Asia or Africa to European ports, which, at the beginning of the 19th century, took several months. Mostly they were taken on board ships chartered for purposes other than animal trade, and thus followed the sometimes extended routes of scientific missions, human migration and trade, including the routes of the slave trade until its effective abolition in the second half of the century (Robbins 2002, pp. 12–17, pp. 27–29, p. 32). While advances in navigation, particularly the development of steam-powered ocean-going vessels, gradually reduced crossing times, these remained difficult times for the animals. According to the testimony of animal trader Josef Menges (1876), who worked for Hagenbeck, losses during transportation regularly reached one-third and sometimes up to two-thirds of the captured animals (Rothfels 2002:57). In 1870, the director of the Jardin d’Acclimatation, Albert Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, wrote:
When one has, as we have, the opportunity to frequently see newly landed animals and the cages in which they have undergone a journey sometimes several months long, one can understand the incredible levels of mortality that often occur during transportation, despite the most assiduous care (Geoffroy 1870, pp. 1–18).
The figures for animals arriving alive at Western urban zoos in the 19th century and during the first half of the 20th century, of the order of several hundred to thousands of individuals per year, for each institution (Pouillard 2019, pp. 236–238), therefore only tell a minor part of the appropriation orchestrated by the zoos, largely based on a colonial extraction with elusive networks, in terms of their extent and ramifications. The dead collections of museums were likewise based on wide ranging extractive processes: the zoological collections of the Paris Muséum National d’Histoire Naturelle alone included, all origins combined, 650,000 specimens in 1858 and 8.5 million in 1921 (Bonneuil 1999, pp. 151–152).
1.5. The confinement of wild animals
In the 19th century and during the first half of the 20th century, zoological gardens housed livestock that varied constantly according to the arrivals in two types of installations. Parks, already present in many previous aristocratic menageries, were designed to allow the animals to move more freely and to allow visitors to better observe their movements, but the device caused mutilations to the flying birds. However, several renowned zoos developed large aviaries from the end of the 19th century, such as the one in the Jardin des Plantes menagerie (1888): 12 meters high, 37 meters long, 25 meters wide, dimensions considered “colossal” at the time, exceeding “all those that exist”, and allowing trees to be included4. In contrast, so-called “ferocious” animals, and those that could not withstand the temperate climate, in other words, the majority of the livestock, were kept in cages in buildings often equipped with heating systems. These buildings were expensive, therefore rarely replaced, and not very adaptable to accommodate a large, diversified and highly variable herd.
This situation created conditions of close proximity of the animals to each other and to the public. The resulting contagious transmissions, aggressions between animals, visitor violence towards animals and the inefficiency and technical failures of the heating systems, as well as various sanitary problems, led to significant mortality. A statistical study shows that the average longevity in captivity of primates that entered and died at London Zoo from 1865, the date of the opening of a new dedicated building, to 1926, the year of the destruction of the building, that is, 6,043 individuals, was 433 days, or around one year and two months5, whereas the age of entry of these animals was usually low, since they were generally imported as juveniles (Pouillard 2019). The level of imports is thus also explained by the fact that the zoo was “a place of perpetual death” (Flack 2018, p. 98).
The creation of the Stellingen Zoo by Carl Hagenbeck in 1907 has long been considered a turning point in the history of animal captivity. The site included several panoramas featuring animals in landscapes of painted concrete and concealing their captivity by replacing the bars with moats. The large panorama at Stellingen allowed visitors to look out over a pond, with a multitude of birds, and then over an African steppe, in the background of which was a lion’s rock, itself overhung by large rocks populated by mountain herbivores whose silhouettes stood out against the horizon. The sensation of immersion in distant landscapes and the illusion of animal consent offered by the panoramas met with immense popular success. Stellingen in turn became a model, imitated in most European and American zoos, many of which opened infrastructures directly inspired by Hagenbeck’s installations (African plains, monkey rocks and so on) (Rothfels 2002; Ames 2008; Pouillard 2019).
However, at Stellingen, and later in other zoos, while the panoramas were attracting the attention of visitors, most of the animals were living in encyclopedic structures lining the cages. Panoramas, on the contrary, required the formation of groups of animals, often abruptly put together, according to transfers and arrivals, sometimes by placing phylogenetically related but geographically distant species together, as in the case of the herbivores from different regions of the world in the large panorama at Stellingen (Rothfels 2002, pp. 173–174). The artificial character of the groupings and the illusion of latitude offered to the animals regularly imposed new constraints on them: mutilations of birds to prevent their flight; training of big cats; placement in narrow lodges, mostly hidden from the view of visitors, at night or for management reasons (Loisel 1912, p. 318, p. 323; Baratay and Hardouin-Fugier 1998, pp. 250–253).
While the change offered by Hagenbeck at Stellingen with the panoramas was therefore largely a matter of spectacle and illusion rather than of the improvement of the condition of the captives, its influence was also marked in terms of health management. Hagenbeck valued the placement of animals in the open air in all weathers, while the confinement of animals from warm climates in facilities that were regularly stifling or too cold was the dominant model. The idea was promoted in other European zoos, in particular London Zoo, under the influence of scientists and pathologists who reached managerial positions at the beginning of the 20th century, and it fell into the emerging hygienist movement. The aim was to revitalize animal bodies degenerated by confinement, deformed by rickets and osteomalacia (softening of the bones), eaten away by parasites or consumed by tuberculosis, by giving them access to air and light. The placing of animals in the open air operated at a slow pace, and its effects were regularly fatal in cold weather in the absence of shelter and heated areas. It also remained uneven, being mostly granted to mammals and birds, right up to the present day (Pouillard 2019, pp. 179–184). However, an increasing number of individuals avoided permanent indoor confinement.
The body revitalization program encompassed many other aspects, such as improved nutrition, cage disinfection and veterinary care. All of this led to a gradual decrease in mortality in the best managed zoos from the beginning of the interwar period (Pouillard 2019). This clinical turn was accompanied, however, by a denudation of captive structures: many cages were bare spaces, lined with tiles and other materials ensuring a watertight environment and facilitating sanitation. The sight of destitute animals in empty cages brought about a resurgence in criticism, as old as captivity itself, from visitors.
1.6. Zoo ethics
The founders of the Jardin des Plantes menagerie intended to reconcile the exploitation and the liberation of animals. To solve this contradiction, they had represented the menagerie as a place of harmony between humans and animals, under the benevolent but firm grip of humans. However, beyond the intentions expressed in the founding texts, in front of the narrow, often unhealthy cages of the nascent menagerie, a number of visitors expressed strong criticism. The context was one of a development, since the 18th century, of sensitivities towards animals, under the influence of various factors, such as the rise of the relations of proximity with the pets and the “cult of tender-heartedness”, which, for humans, claimed the abolition of slavery and sentences of torture (Foucault 1975; Thomas 1985 (citation p. 229)). During the early decades, critics of captivity regularly used the vocabulary of imprisonment and slavery to describe the fate of animals (example: Jauffret 1798, p. 76, p. 84).
Throughout the history of zoos, reproaches have mostly focused on the modalities of captivity. Thus, it was that, in the 19th century and during the early decades of the 20th century, complaints about the parks were less frequent, except during the cold or humid months, when their occupants faced the bite of temperatures, without heating, or being bogged down in unsuitable soil. Criticism of the captivity of wild animals per se, which was long-standing and expressed, in particular, in philosophical and literary texts such as those of Montaigne or Rousseau, remained marginal (Rousseau 1969 [1755], pp. 111–112; Montaigne 2009 [1572–1580], p. 155).
The first animal protection organizations were established at the beginning of the 19th century. The most important of these, by reputation and number of members, such as the first protective society, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (1824) in England, or the Société Protectrice des Animaux (1845) in France, did not condemn captivity. Indeed, captivity corresponded with the ideal of animal acclimatization promoted by these associations in the 19th century, as well as the desire for proximity and physical contact with animals, including wild animals. From the 19th century to the present day, the activities of these associations have therefore focused on the modalities of captivity, drawing an evolving line distinguishing between “good” and “bad” zoos and calling for the latter to be closed or reformed, with the support of zoos placed in the former category (Baratay and Hardouin-Fugier 1998, pp. 208–210; Pouillard 2019).
However, beyond what separated the various critical expressions around captivity, most were formed in response to human perceptions of suffering expressed by animals, both physical and mental (Baratay 2011). Certain animal behaviors polarized attention. At the beginning of the 19th century, a serval in the Jardin des Plantes menagerie had “not a moment’s rest”, made “prodigious jumps” and swung in a “peculiar manner […] when not jumping”; he killed himself by hitting the ceiling of its cage. The polar bears of the institution had “a singular and perpetual movement of the head and neck, from top to bottom and from bottom to top”. Contemporaries, when questioning the causes of these behaviors, linked them to the conditions of captivity. Thus, polar bears must have “acquired this habit because the cage in which they spent their first year was too narrow” (Anonymous 1801, pp. 17–18; Cuvier n.d., p. 7).
From the middle of the 20th century onwards, within the context of the development of zoo psychology, and under the influence of the frequency of these so-called stereotypical behaviors and of the large proportion of individuals affected, research programs on the subject were set up. The insights provided confirmed the intuitions and empirical observations made by visitors and keepers from the very establishment of the zoo, while refining the established causalities. The zoologist and specialist in stereotypical behaviors Georgia Mason defines these as repetitive behaviors, devoid of apparent function, invariable and taking various forms depending on the species concerned (pacing, rhythmic rocking, self-mutilation, over-grooming, regurgitation and re-ingestion of food, licking of objects or supports and so on). They are caused by internal states associated with deficiencies in captive conditions, particularly frustration, fear, stress or lack of comfort. These internal states trigger persistent behavioral responses that are interpreted as deriving from attempts to replace a behavior that is impossible to perform under captive conditions, to escape confinement or more broadly to mitigate the difficulties of captive life. For example, pacing is regularly linked to unsuccessful attempts to escape (Mason et al. 2007, pp. 163–172).
