CHAPTER I. THE PRINCIPLE OF ANIMALS’ RIGHTS.
CHAPTER II. THE CASE OF DOMESTIC ANIMALS.
CHAPTER III. THE CASE OF WILD ANIMALS.
CHAPTER IV. THE SLAUGHTER OF ANIMALS FOR FOOD.
CHAPTER V. SPORT, OR AMATEUR BUTCHERY.
CHAPTER VI. MURDEROUS MILLINERY.
CHAPTER VII. EXPERIMENTAL TORTURE.
CHAPTER VIII. LINES OF REFORM.
CHAPTER I. THE PRINCIPLE OF ANIMALS’ RIGHTS.
Have
the lower animals “rights”? Undoubtedly—if men have. That is
the point I wish to make evident in this opening chapter. But have
men rights? Let it be stated at the outset that I have no intention
of discussing the abstract theory of rights, which at the present
time is looked upon with suspicion and disfavour by many social
reformers, since it has not unfrequently been made to cover the
most
extravagant and contradictory assertions. But though its
phraseology
is vague, there is nevertheless a solid truth underlying it—a truth
which has always been clearly apprehended by the moral faculty,
however difficult it may be to establish it on an unassailable
logical basis. If men have not “rights”—well, they have an
unmistakable intimation of something very similar; a sense of
justice
which marks the boundary-line where acquiescence ceases and
resistance begins; a demand for freedom to live their own lives,
subject to the necessity of respecting the equal freedom of other
people.Such
is the doctrine of rights as formulated byHerbert
Spencer. “Every man,” he says, “is free to do that which he
wills, provided he infringes not the equal liberty of any other
man.”
And again, “Whoever admits that each man must have a certain
restricted freedom, asserts that it is
right he should
have this restricted freedom.... And hence the several particular
freedoms deducible may fitly be called, as they commonly are
called,
his rights”
(“Justice,” pp. 46, 62).[1]The
fitness of this nomenclature is disputed, but the existence of some
real principle of the kind can hardly be called in question; so
that
the controversy concerning “rights” is little else than an
academic battle over words, which leads to no practical conclusion.
I
shall assume, therefore, that men are possessed of “rights,” in
the sense of Herbert Spencer’s definition; and if any of my readers
object to this qualified use of the term, I can only say that I
shall
be perfectly willing to change the word as soon as a more
appropriate
one is forthcoming.[2]The
immediatequestion
that claims our attention is this—if men have rights, have animals
their rights also?From
the earliest times there have been thinkers who, directly or
indirectly, answered this question with an affirmative. The
Buddhist
and Pythagorean canons, dominated perhaps by the creed of
reincarnation, included the maxim “not to kill or injure any
innocent animal.” The humanitarian philosophers of the Roman
empire, among whom Seneca, Plutarch, and Porphyry were the most
conspicuous, took still higher ground in preaching humanity on the
broadest principle of universal benevolence. “Since justice is due
to rational beings,” wrote Porphyry, “how is it possible to evade
the admission that we are bound also to act justly towards the
races
below us?”It
is a lamentable fact that during the churchdom of the middle ages,
from the fourth century to the sixteenth, from the time of Porphyry
to the time of Montaigne, little or no attention was paid to the
question of the rights and wrongs of the lower races. Then, with
the
Reformation and the revival of learning, came a revival also of
humanitarian feeling, as may be seen in many passages of Erasmus
and
More, Shakespeare and Bacon; but it was not until the eighteenth
century, the age of enlightenment and “sensibility,” of which
Voltaire and Rousseau were the spokesmen, that the rights of
animals
obtained more deliberate recognition. From the great
Revolutionof
1789 dates the period when the world-wide spirit of
humanitarianism,
which had hitherto been felt by but one man in a million—the thesis
of the philosopher or the vision of the poet—began to disclose
itself, gradually and dimly at first, as an essential feature of
democracy.A
great and far-reaching effect was produced in England at this time
by
the publication of such revolutionary works as Thomas Paine’s
“Rights of Man” and Mary Wollstonecraft’s “Vindication of the
Rights of Woman”; and looking back now, after the lapse of a
hundred years, we can see that a still wider extension of the
theory
of rights was thenceforth inevitable. In fact, such a claim was
anticipated—if only in bitter jest—by a contemporary writer, who
furnishes us with a notable instance of how the mockery of one
generation may become the reality of the next. There was published
anonymously in 1792 a little volume entitled “A Vindication of the
Rights of Brutes,”[3]a
reductio ad absurdum
of Mary Wollstonecraft’s essay, written, as the author informs us,
“to evince by demonstrative arguments the perfect equality of what
is called the irrational species to the human.” The further opinion
is expressed that “after those wonderful productions of Mr. Paine
and Mrs. Wollstonecraft, such a theory as the present seems to be
necessary.” It was
necessary; and a very short term of years sufficed to bring it into
effect; indeed, the theory had already been put forward by several
English pioneers of nineteenth-century humanitarianism.To
Jeremy Bentham, in particular, belongs the high honour of first
asserting the rights of animals with authority and
persistence.
“
The
legislator,” he wrote, “ought to interdict everything which may
serve to lead to cruelty. The barbarous spectacles of gladiators no
doubt contributed to give the Romans that ferocity which they
displayed in their civil wars. A people accustomed to despise human
life in their games could not be expected to respect it amid the
fury
of their passions. It is proper for the same reason to forbid every
kind of cruelty towards animals, whether by way of amusement, or to
gratify gluttony. Cock-fights, bull-baiting, hunting hares and
foxes,
fishing, and other amusements of the same kind, necessarily suppose
either the absence of reflection or a fund of inhumanity, since
they
produce the most acute sufferings to sensible beings, and the most
painful and lingering death of which we can form any idea. Why
should
the law refuse its protection to any sensitive being? The time will
come when humanity will extend its mantle over everything which
breathes. We have begun by attending to the condition of slaves; we
shall finish by softening that of all the animals which assist our
labours or supply our wants.”[4]So,
too, wrote one of Bentham’s contemporaries: “The grand source of
the unmerited and superfluous misery of beasts exists in a defect
in
the constitution of all communities. No human government, I
believe,
has ever recognized the
jus animalium,
which ought surely to form a part of the jurisprudence of every
system founded on the principles of justiceand
humanity.”[5]A
number of later moralists have followed on the same lines, with the
result that the rights of animals have already, to a certain
limited
extent, been established both in private usage and by legal
enactment.It
is interesting to note the exact commencement of this new principle
in law. When Lord Erskine, speaking in the House of Lords in 1811,
advocated the cause of justice to the lower animals, he was greeted
with loud cries of insult and derision. But eleven years later the
efforts of the despised humanitarians, and especially of Richard
Martin, of Galway, were rewarded by their first success. The
passing
of the Ill-treatment of Cattle Bill, commonly known as “Martin’s
Act,” in July, 1822, is a memorable date in the history of humane
legislation, less on account of the positive protection afforded by
it, for it applied only to cattle and “beasts of burden,” than
for the invaluable precedent which it created. From 1822 onward,
the
principle of that
jus animalium for
which Bentham had pleaded, was recognized, however partially and
tentatively at first, by English law, and the animals included in
the
Act ceased to be the mere property of their owners; moreover the
Act
has been several times supplemented and extended during the past
half
century. It is scarcely possible, in the face of this legislation,
to
maintain that “rights” are a privilege with which none but human
beings can be invested; for if
some animals are
already includedwithin
the pale of protection, why should not more and more be so included
in the future?[6]For
the present, however, what is most urgently needed is some
comprehensive and intelligible principle, which shall indicate, in
a
more consistent manner, the true lines of man’s moral relation
towards the lower animals. Hitherto even the leading advocates of
animals’ rights seem to have shrunk from basing their claim on the
only argument which can ultimately be held to be a sufficient
one—the
assertion that animals, as well as men, though, of course, to a far
less extent than men, are possessed of a distinctive individuality,
and therefore are in justice entitled to live their lives with a
due
measure of that “restricted freedom” to which Herbert Spencer
alludes. It is of little use to claim “rights” for animals in a
vague general way, if with the same breath we explicitly show our
determination to subordinate those rights to anything and
everything
that can be construed into a human “want”; nor will it ever be
possible to obtain full justice for the lower races so long as we
continue to regard them as beings of a wholly different order, and
to
ignore the significance of their numberless points of kinship with
mankind.For
example, it has been said by a well-knownwriter
on the subject of humanity to animals[7]that
“the life of a brute, having no moral purpose, can best be
understood ethically as representing the sum of its
pleasures; and the
obligation, therefore, of producing the pleasures of sentient
creatures must be reduced, in their case, to the abstinence from
unnecessary destruction of life.” Now, with respect to this
statement, I must say that the notion of the life of an animal
having
“no moral purpose” belongs to a class of ideas which cannot
possibly be accepted by the advanced humanitarian thought of the
present day—it is a purely arbitrary assumption, at variance with
our best science, and absolutely fatal (if the subject be clearly
thought out) to any full realization of animals’ rights. If we are
ever going to do justice to the lower races, we must get rid of the
antiquated notion of a “great gulf” fixed between them and
mankind, and must recognize the common bond of humanity that unites
all living beings in one universal brotherhood.As
far as any excuses can be alleged, in explanation of the
insensibility or inhumanity of the western nations in their
treatment
of animals, these excuses may be mostly traced back to one or the
other of two theories, wholly different in origin, yet alike in
this—that both postulate an absolute difference of nature between
men and the lower kinds.The
first is the so-called “religious” notion, which awards
immortality to man, but to man alone, thereby furnishing
(especially
in Catholic countries) a quibblingjustification
for acts of cruelty to animals, on the plea that they “have no
souls.” “It should seem,” says Mrs. Jameson,[8]
“
as
if the primitive Christians, by laying so much stress upon a future
life, in contradistinction to
this life, and
placing the lower creatures out of the pale of hope, placed them at
the same time out of the pale of sympathy, and thus laid the
foundation for this utter disregard of animals in the light of our
fellow-creatures.”I
am aware that a quite contrary argument has, in a few isolated
instances, been founded on the belief that animals have “no souls.”
“Cruelty to a brute,” says an old writer,[9]
“
is
an injury irreparable,” because there is no future life to be a
compensation for present afflictions; and there is an amusing
story,
told by Mr. Lecky in his “History of European Morals,” of a
certain humanely-minded Cardinal, who used to allow vermin to bite
him without hindrance, on the ground that “we shall have heaven to
reward us for our sufferings, but these poor creatures have nothing
but the enjoyment of this present life.” But this is a rare view of
the question which need not, I think, be taken into very serious
account; for, on the whole, the denial of immortality to animals
(unless, of course, it be also denied to men) tends strongly to
lessen their chance of being justly and considerately treated.
Among
the many humane movements of the present age, none is more
significant than the growing inclination, noticeable both in
scientific circles and in religious, tobelieve
that mankind and the lower animals have the same destiny before
them.[10]The
second and not less fruitful source of modern inhumanity is to be
found in the “Cartesian” doctrine—the theory of Descartes and
his followers—that the lower animals are devoid of consciousness
and feeling; a theory which carried the “religious” notion a step
further, and deprived the animals not only of their claim to a life
hereafter, but of anything that could, without mockery, be called a
life in the present, since mere “animated machines,” as they were
thus affirmed to be, could in no real sense be said to
live at all! Well
might Voltaire turn his humane ridicule against this most monstrous
contention, and suggest, with scathing irony, that God “had given
the animals the organs of feeling, to the end that they
might
not feel!” “The
theory of animal automatism,” says Professor Romanes, “which is
usually attributed to Descartes, can never be accepted by common
sense.” Yet it is to be feared that it has done much, in its time,
to harden “scientific” sense against the just complaints of the
victims of human arrogance and oppression.[11]Let
me here quote a most impressive passage from Schopenhauer.
“
The
unpardonable forgetfulness in which the lower animals have hitherto
been left by the moralists of Europe is well known. It is pretended
that the beasts have no rights. They persuade themselves that our
conduct in regard to them has nothing to do with morals, or (to
speak
the language of their morality) that we have no duties towards
animals: a doctrine revolting, gross, and barbarous, peculiar to
the
west, and having its root in Judaism. In philosophy, however, it is
made to rest upon a hypothesis, admitted in despite of evidence
itself, of an absolute difference between man and beast. It is
Descartes who has proclaimed it in the clearest and most decisive
manner; and in fact it was a necessary consequence of his errors.
The
Cartesian-Leibnitzian-Wolfian philosophy, with the assistance of
entirely abstract notions, had built up the ‘rational psychology,’
and constructed an immortal
anima rationalis:
but, visibly, the world of beasts, with its very natural claims,
stood up against this exclusive monopoly—this
brevet of
immortality decreed to man alone—and silently Nature did what she
always does in such cases—she protested. Our philosophers, feeling
their scientific conscience quite disturbed, were forced to attempt
to consolidate their ‘rational psychology’ by the aid of
empiricism. They therefore set themselves to work to hollow out
between man and beast an enormous abyss, of an immeasurable width;
by
this they wish to prove to us, in contempt of evidence, an
impassable
difference.”[12]The
fallacious idea that the lives of animals have no moral purpose is
at
root connected with these religiousand
philosophical pretensions which Schopenhauer so powerfully
condemns.
To live one’s own life—to realize one’s true self—is the
highest moral purpose of man and animal alike; and that animals
possess their due measure of this sense of individuality is
scarcely
open to doubt. “We have seen,” says Darwin, “that the senses
and intuitions, the various emotions and faculties, such as love,
memory, attention, curiosity, imitation, reason, etc., of which man
boasts, may be found in an incipient, or even sometimes in a
well-developed condition, in the lower animals.”[13]