An engrossing and eloquent study of the history and ethics of animal experimentation
The heart of a pig may soon beat in a human chest. Sheep, cattle, and mice have been cloned. Slowly but inexorably scientists are learning how to transfer tissues, organs, and DNA between species. Some think this research is moving too far, too fast, without adequate discussion of possible Is it ethical to breed animals for spare parts? When does the cost in animal life and suffering outweigh the potential benefit to humans?
In precise and elegant prose, The Scalpel and the Butterfly explores the ongoing struggle between the promise offered by new research and the anxiety about safety and ethical implications in the context of the conflict between experimental medicine and animal protection that dates back to the mid-nineteenth century. Deborah Rudacille offers a compelling and cogent look at the history of this divisive topic, from the days of Louis Pasteur and the founding of organized antivivisection in England to the Nazi embrace of eugenics, from animal rights to the continuing war between PETA and biomedical researchers, and the latest developments in replacing, reducing, and refining animal use for research and testing.
I make no pretense of being impartial, unbiased or even objective; I am an abolitionist who holds that animals have the right not to be used as instruments for human ends, in any case whatever. My reading of this book, therefore, is shaped by that position. As it was, I was conflicted. Rudacille recounts the earliest days of the animal rights movement in succinct, though hardly original fashion, and touches on the major movements, past and present, that played any sort of role in the issue of vivisection, including Nazism and neo-paganism. The historical overview is not overly substantive or thorough, but for newcomers to the topic, it is clear and concise.
So far, so good. Then, she falls flat. Rudacille is not (initially) a polemicist; she maintains an observer's disinterest in presenting a tangled and contentious issue, and that is needed when addressing such a heated issue. Her distance from the issue is also her book's greatest weakness: she doesn't seem to have very much invested in the issue and keeps a sort of bemused smugness towards the heated debate. In those rare cases that she does elucidate a position, she comes down on the utilitarian/welfarist side, painting abolitionists like Francione (referred to as "the enfant terrible of the animal rights movement") as histrionic ideologues locked in a self-defeating war for purity in the movement. Because of this struggle, which she equates with that of the Jacobins and Trotskyites, she dismisses abolitionism as a stance altogether, insisting that regulation must be fought for before any more radical change takes place. PeTA, as usual in mainstream discourse on the topic, is trotted out as the class clown whose antics give ample cause to dismiss animal rights out of hand, without a more substantive critique of that organization's positions or tactics.
Rudacille concludes with a generic "that's the way it is", but that isn't the way it should be. As with most utilitarian thought, she assumes that what's best for nonhumans is better left to humans to decide. I'm not sure what this book contributes to the discussion, beyond dismissing half of the discussion in favor of the least progressive and most conservative way of looking at the issue.
Uneven mix of: (a) sporadically interesting content about animal welfare, animal research, and science history (e.g., internal politics of the early years of PETA, eventual conclusion that polio epidemic arose from excessive hygiene in modern America, such that kids no longer got it in infancy [when for reasons I couldn't grasp you don't get paralyzed by it:] and built up immunity)and
(b) ponderous, boring writing. Obviously a matter of taste and hard to justify, but I guess the best way I can describe is that it reads like one of those overlong multi-part newspaper series that the Washington Post nominates itself for Pulitzer Prizes for, X 100.
This is the second book I have read about animal research, the first being Voracious Science and Vulnerable Animals (which I HIGHLY recommend). I enjoyed reading The Scalpel and the Butterfly, however I found it slightly difficult to remain focused on this book. This book contains a lot of very interesting information regarding animal research, particularly the history of animal research and anti-vivisectionists. One thing I really enjoyed about this book was the inclusion of the history of female anti-visectionists. Overall, I would recommend this book to anyone interested in learning about the history of animal research and anti-vivisection.
Some parts I had trouble seeing how it related to animal rights/experimentation. I liked that it gave both sides of teh argument though. I've read better.