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128 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2009
The decisive theoretical break came with Descartes. Descartes internalised, within man, the dualism implicit in the human relation to animals. In dividing absolutely body from soul, he bequeathed the body to the laws of physics and mechanics, and, since animals were soulless, the animal was reduced to the model of a machine…I can’t answer: the only worthy reply is a call to action, or action itself. George Monbiot’s Feral: Rewilding the Land, the Sea, and Human Life is such a call and I urge you to read it. Monbiot is one of those who goes deep and far beyond such elegant namings of the problem as Berger performs here. It may be possible to read this book, shed tears, and carry on calmly, accepting the exploitation and expurgation(?) of animals as regrettable but unavoidable collateral damage in the glorious ascendance of civilization, but then turn to ‘The Eaters and the Eaten’ and try to maintain that position.
Eventually, Descartes' model was surpassed. In the first stages of the industrial revolution, animals were used as machines. As also were children. Later, in the so-called post-industrial societies, they are treated as raw material. Animals required for food are treated like manufactured commodities…
This reduction of the animal, which has a theoretical as well as an economic history, is part of the same process as that by which [hu]m[a]n[s] have been reduced to isolated productive and consuming units…
The conceptual framework in which the Neo-Darwinists and the Creationists debate is of such limited imagination that the contrast with the immensity of the process whose origin they are searching is flagrant. They are like two bands of seven-year-olds who, having discovered a packet of love-letters in an attic, try to piece together the story behind the correspondence. Both bands are ingenious, but the passion of the letters is beyond their competence.
'Language allows men to reckon with each other as with themselves. (In the confirmation made possible by language, human ignorance and fear may also be confirmed. Whereas in animals fear is a response to signal, in men it is endemic.)'
'Book 17 of the Iliad opens with Menelaus standing over the corpse of Patroclus to prevent the Trojans stripping it. Here Homer uses animals as metaphoric references, to convey, with irony or admiration, the excessive or superlative qualities of different moments. Without the example of animals, such moments would have remained indescribable. “Menelaus bestrode his body like a fretful mother cow standing over the first calf she has brought into the world.'
'Anthropomorphism was the residue of the continuous use of animal metaphor. In the last two centuries, animals have gradually disappeared. Today we live without them. And in this new solitude, anthropomorphism makes us doubly uneasy.'
“London housewife Barbara Carter won a ‘grant a wish’ charity contest, and said she wanted to kiss and cuddle a lion. Wednesday night she was in a hospital in shock and with throat wounds. Mrs Carter, 46, was taken to the lions’ compound of the safari park at Bewdley, Wednesday. As she bent forward to stroke the lioness, Suki, it pounced and dragged her to the ground. Wardens later said. ‘We seem to have made a bad error of judgment. We have always regarded the lioness as perfectly safe’."
'Yet in the zoo the view is always wrong. Like an image out of focus. One is so accustomed to this that one scarcely notices it any more; or, rather, the apology habitually anticipates the disappointment, so that the latter is not felt. And the apology runs like this: What do you expect? It’s not a dead object you have come to look at, it’s alive. It’s leading its own life. Why should this coincide with its being properly visible? Yet the reasoning of this apology is inadequate. The truth is more startling.'
'All sites of enforced marginalisation — ghettos, shanty towns, prisons, madhouses, concentration camps — have something in common with zoos. But it is both too easy and too evasive to use the zoo as a symbol. The zoo is a demonstration of the relations between man and animals; nothing else. The marginalisation of animals is today being followed by the marginalisation and disposal of the only class who, throughout history, has remained familiar with animals and maintained the wisdom which accompanies that familiarity: the middle and small peasant. The basis of this wisdom is an acceptance of the dualism at the very origin of the relation between man and animal. The rejection of this dualism is probably an important factor in opening the way to modern totalitarianism. But I do not wish to go beyond the limits of that unprofessional, unexpressed but fundamental question asked of the zoo.'