“Animal Resistance”, at first glance, doesn’t seem to be such a loaded term, especially when talking about wild or feral animals. Anyone who’s been around wild animals knows that they resist capture and captivity. That seems pretty clear when one considers animals caught and used in horrific (or “inhumane”) ways, like bear bile farms, or when one considers how feral cats act when captured for TNR.
However, most of us humans don’t see resistance to captivity in animals in zoos, aquariums or circuses. Maybe that’s because we don’t often look beyond the “humane” facade presented by these organizations, maybe it’s because we assume that since the animals are getting fed regularly and are safe from “cruel” nature (which isn’t so cruel, see Jonathan Balcombe _Pleasurable Kingdom_) they are “happy” (see Kathleen Stachowski article in _Animal Blawg_ on protesting a circus, quoting a woman who just came out of the show and said, to the protestors, that the animals “seemed truly happy”).
But what about humans who work with wild animals, who see them trying to escape or becoming violent with trainers? They may assume a particular animal’s conduct is an “in the moment” reaction to unfamiliarity, trainers, smells, etc. They may attribute even long-term behavioral changes such as depression or the failure to reproduce to factors like wrong diet or lack of ability to engage in “instinctual” activity (which, contrary to popular belief, is not mutually exclusive with cognition. Humans have instincts, for example, see Balcombe, Second Nature). Thus, animal “resistance” to captivity is probably considered something reactive and instinctual.
But Hribal’s thesis is that wild animals resist their captivity with calculation and planning. His book is an attempt to prove this thesis and to argue for a re-thinking of our relationship to the animals we capture and use for entertainment.
First, I have to say that I, personally, am not sure that “thinking” resistance versus reactive resistance is an important distinction when considering human duties towards nonhuman animals. I would argue that even without the ability to calculate and plan resistance, wild animals should not be forced into captivity. For me it’s not a question of how much agency an animal needs before her need to be left alone is taken seriously, it’s a question of giving her the benefit of the doubt. If she’s sentient, chances are she wants to live her life without me forcing her to wear sequined costumes, jump through hoops, or live in a city and climate she is not built for, among creatures she fears. So for me, sentience is enough, she doesn’t have to exhibit a locksmith’s facility with locks or plan for weeks to murder her trainers.
But I’m not the average reader. Hribal’s thesis is important for what it means about animal agency and what that in turn means about humans’ knee-jerk acceptance of using animals as entertainment. Hribal’s thesis is important just because it’s a shocking one for most people: “What? That elephant hates being in the circus? That dolphin isn’t smiling at his trainer?” Hribal’s thesis is even shocking for people who consider themselves humanely inclined, because he focuses on rogue animals, even murderous ones, not on the cute, helpless ones animal welfarist organizations love to describe and photograph. Unlike the stuff put out by these orgs in their appeals for money, Hribal does not present animals as victims, but as complicated beings acting to change their own horrible fates. This idea alone is worth the price of admission, so to speak. Animals are not “one-note” creatures, wow. In addition, Hribal focuses on individual animals, not species. He tells each story using the animal’s name, and personal history. So the way he writes is important for its inherent respect towards the beings he’s writing about.
Because Hribal’s ideas and respect for his subjects are important, and because his thesis does fly in the face of conventional wisdom about captive wild animals, his book needs to be convincing. For me, it ultimately was. However, I’m an easy audience, so he was kind of preaching to the choir. Therefore, I think it’s necessary to point out that the book is flawed, and, in order to reach a wider audience, Hribal should do some tinkering and maybe reissue a second edition.
First, a couple of notes about the content. The book is ordered into four chapters: two concerning elephants, one on primates, and one on sea mammals. Hribal does include some stories about tigers, but the scope of his book is, overall, confined to the three groups mentioned above. (That’s not a flaw, but does makes me think that Hribal was rushing to get the book out. The book does come at you in a sort of breathless rush.) In each chapter, Hribal tells the stories of animals who have resisted their captivity in various ways. There are stories of animals who’ve escaped captivity numerous times and foiled all attempts to build better enclosures for them, stories of those who’ve attacked trainers, (killing some), and stories of those who’ve both escaped and attacked specific spectators who harrassed them. While the particular animal’s resistance in those cases seems fairly obvious, Hribal also discusses cases in which the “resistance” is more veiled, such as certain animals’ failure to reproduce in captivity. In those cases, he ventures into more speculation about the animals’ motivations. I found this a little disconcerting, only because I’m used to reading biologists and cognitive ethologists, who take care to delineate their own speculation from what their research has revealed. Hribal could benefit from taking a slightly less passionate tone here, and at least appearing more clinical, especially with his more radical conclusions.
That said, the book does not pretend to be a scientific work, nor should it be read as such. Most of the material in it is anecdotal, and Hribal does not attempt to back up the anecdotes with biological or ethological studies. Instead, Hribal, as his title makes clear, is writing a “history” of animal acts of resistance. Therefore, readers like me, who expect animal stories to be bolstered with some scientific research, will be disappointed. Unfortunately for Hribal, when it comes to cognition, the human default mindset seems to be to assume that animals are incapable of any, until proven able by huge batteries of human-devised tests. This attitude, screwed up as it is (and as I said, I’m even prone to it), works against Hribal. In any other context, a “history” consisting of news stories and anecdote would likely be given the benefit of the doubt, but not when it comes to stories of animal intelligence and complexity. Hribal could dip into the enormous amount of research into animal intelligence that’s out there, and the huge discoveries being made every day in order to bolster his stories (like Jonathan Balcombe does, for example). That would make his thesis go down easier in some quarters. But I’m not sure he should need to.
Overall, the content of Hribal’s book is good: fascinating stories of what appear to be extraordinary acts of resistance by captive animals, told with respect for the individual animals. Hribal dips into news stores, interviews with trainers, zoo archives, and stories from spectators who witnessed the animals’ acts of resistance, and includes material spanning the 19th and 20th centuries and many countries, as well as recent US history.
There are several flaws in Hribal’s execution of the book. First and foremost, there are typos and grammatical errors. These detract from the overall message, and are easy to find and fix. A good copy editor could work wonders here. It is really important for books that present a radical viewpoint to be as flawless as possible in terms of grammar and spelling. Hribal is just handing opponents free ammo to use against him by not taking more care here.
Second, Hribal needs to include some endnotes. While he notes his sources in a general fashion in the prologue, it would be incredibly helpful to have specific sources cited in the book itself. This is a must in scholarly works, and it’s useful in non-scholarly ones, especially with subject matter that is at all controversial. Hribal needs to make it easy for people to take his subject seriously, so he needs to supply citations. Otherwise, his book looks too much like fiction. End notes have the added value of not interrupting the flow of the book. Citations would make it much harder to discount the stories Hribal is telling, and enable readers, like me, who are interested in the subject, to do our own research more easily.
Third, the way Hribal organizes his book is strange, almost stream of consciousness. He’ll tell one particular story of resistance, and suddenly segue into another story before he’s finished the first story. He seems to organize stories around what particular form the resistance took, but this isn’t ever made clear, and the way he jumps between anecdotes gives the book a rough draft quality. Because it is a short book and the chapters are short, this isn’t a big problem in terms of ease of comprehension, but I wanted this book to have the kind of clarity and beauty that the subject deserves, and it did not. Organizing the material better would help with that. To be fair to Hribal, as I alluded to above, I think his passion for the subject comes through more than any attempt at elegance. That’s not a bad thing if you’re (again) preaching to the choir, but he needs to think about how to make it come through a lot better for tougher audiences. Although the stories are fascinating and important ones to tell, Hribal’s sort of rushed, lumped together style lessens their impact.
In conclusion, although I personally enjoyed this book, I think Hribal could do better. If he chose to redo it, I’d suggest getting the grammar, spelling and syntax as clean and clear as possible first. Then work on the organization and backing the material up with citations. I’d love to see the stories in this book become as powerful as they should be.