A MIRROR TO OUR COLLECTIVE MORAL IMAGINATION
By Dr Roghieh Dehghan-Zaklaki
University College London
On Sunday, May 7th, 2023, two dogs named Marshall and Millions were cornered by a team of police officers and shot to death in their own neighbourhood in Tower Hamlets, and in front of their human companion.
A doctor discussing the killing of dogs on the streets of London might appear strange, had the Covid-19 pandemic not demonstrated how our exploitative treatment of non-human animals “endangers life on our planet.” This undeniable interconnectedness with other species, multispecies ethnographers and ecofeminists state, presents an opportunity for us to delve into “more rounded accounts of social life, bringing animals and their agencies into clearer focus as companions, workers and beings in their own right” (Tallberg et al., 2020, p. 103). The recent pandemic illustrated the deception of eco-social lines; doctors take the decisions about who gets to live and who to die within a socio-political ecology that structures and transforms our profession.
To truly grasp the nature of our relationship with other species, it is helpful to shift our focus from abstract, large-scale ecological pictures to the single animal within our everyday reach. How we interact with our companion animals may indicate our long-term planetary forecast more accurately than our practice of recycling. To this end, by drawing upon insight from my research on violence and ethics, this paper argues that our cultural practices related to domesticated animals are an issue of ecological and social justice. How we treat other species tell us nothing about them but plenty about “how we feel about ourselves, about the world around us, and about the meaning we give to our own existence” (Drewermann, 2011, p.62). Bringing moral philosophy to bear on the bodies of these two dead dogs illuminates, on the one hand, the moral state of our society’s norms, and on the other hand, the profound implications that violence holds for our moral imagination, the building block of a collective vision for our planet.
The image of Marshall and Millions’ final and fatal stance still circulating on social media depicts a poignant scene: two medium-sized black dogs spread on a pavement in a residential area near the Limehouse Cut canal; one of the dogs lies almost on his belly, his head resting on the ground and one paw slightly stretched out in front of him; the other, lying on his side just a few steps away from the first, holds his limbs outstretched, as though merely sleeping. Their postures suggest a scene of tranquility, but the thin stream of blood connecting their motionless bodies and the presence of three (out of a total nine) uniformed men in the photo hovering over and around them tells a different story, one of doom.
One of the police officers strikes a dramatic pose over the limp body of Marshall, aiming his rifle at him as though anxious that the deceased dog might just be faking death and could pose a serious threat. Another police officer stands behind the first, seemingly relaxed, yet ready to strike should there be a need. The third police officer looks away from the scene at the path the stream of blood is taking.
The ironic contrast- the child-sized victims inertly sprawled on the ground and the officers in their what looks like anti-terrorist attire – makes the entire scene both theatrical and absurd. Yet the disturbing truth behind the image remains unchanged; it is a photograph that captures an instant of horror: the very moment two innocent heartbeats were made to come to an abrupt stop at the hands of police officers on an ordinary Sunday evening.
The photograph resonates with other tales from the broader apparatus of violence: tales of defenselessness, of being overpowered, with no prospects of due process, receiving proper assessment, compassion or protection – a tale of terror in the face of absolute domination. The dogs were entirely at the mercy of men who held the authority to simply “destroy” them.
The image ought to elicit a moral response, yet such a response is lacking within institutions and mainstream media. Philosopher Mathew Cogndon (2016) argues that moral sensitivity is necessary to recognise moral wrongs, as demonstrated in cases such as child abuse, domestic violence, and homophobia. Within the context of this incident, the gravity of violence becomes obscured by the identity of the victims. Our moral sensitivity is compromised; after all, the victims are “ONLY” dogs. Some lives are culturally coded as more grievable than other lives, Judith Butler (2015) observes. “An ungrievable life is one that cannot be mourned because it has never lived, that is, it has never counted as a life at all.”
While opinions on the facts surrounding the incident remain contested, it is essential to acknowledge that this complexity does not absolve us from critical reflection, neither does it imply an impossibility of drawing some useful knowledge and truths from this situation. In the case of Marshall and Millions, there is no doubt about the reality of their lifeless bodies which also serve as a comment on our anthropocentric ethics.
The philosopher J. Bernstein (2015) argues that we are inherently vulnerable to harm from others. To shield ourselves from this existential helplessness, we depend on receiving recognition from those around us. That is a kind of recognition that results in others refraining from harming us. The central object of recognition varies among different thinkers. For example, recognition may revolve around our inherent value (Bernstein, 2015), or “wonder”, an appreciation of the awe-inspiring natural and species-specific beauty (Nussbaum, 2022, pp.8-18).
I am all too familiar with the significance of this kind of recognition for the validation of a single life from my early years in Iran. I recall clearly the ever-present and overpowering sense of dread oozing from images of arbitrary violence and public executions on television. Even as a schoolgirl, I instinctively understood the message of these brutal visual representations – they spoke the precariousness and disposability of life, when those in power showed no regard for the living.
Where life is not respected, its loss becomes inconsequential. Albert Schweitzer’s (1964) ethical framework – named the “reverence for life” – around the importance of acknowledging the innate “will-to-live” that exists within all living beings. In a similar vein, political philosopher Martha Nussbaum (2022) asserts that just as human beings have a rightful claim to this planet, so too do other animals.
For the recognition of reverence for life to manifest, two essential conditions must be met: imagination and reflection. Our inability to imagine “the other” lies at the core of the harm we inflict upon them. Social and cultural norms play a significant role in shaping our practices of solidarity and compassion. It is often easier for individuals to distance themselves emotionally from a situation and withhold compassion by blaming the victims, as a way to rationalise violence. When such norms take over, we are likely to lack the moral sensitivity to recognise the harm; consider, for instance, the acceptance of public torture during the Middle Ages. That is why the Philosopher Elaine Scarry (2006) asks us to literally “stop” and say, “wait a minute.” Can I imagine “the other” at all? Without a moral imagination, we are unlikely to experience those strong moral emotions, such as compassion and outrage, that are necessary for a response to injustice (Nussbaum, 2022).
Lives can also be diminished and rendered inconsequential through the process of abstraction. While the use of abstract concepts such as “global sustainability,” “ecological and environmental justice,” or “biodiversity” are important and serve human-centred goals, these broad and overarching ideas may inadvertently overlook the individual experiences and moral worth of non-human animals. Those who are hurt in reality are mere individual creatures, not a whole species (Nussbaum, 2022).
Animals are part of our social world. Irrespective of our beliefs about the value of animals’ lives, they too deserve “reasonable laws” (Drewermann, 2015). As we increasingly recognise the interconnectedness of our planetary survival, it becomes imperative to reevaluate the laws that govern our coexistence with non-human animals, both in the wild and within our cities. The position we grant animals within our society, including our response to their suffering and the way in which we deny them agency, assume superiority and therefore wield power over them, reflect a wider range of relationships and moral stances. It sheds light on how we perceive the most vulnerable and powerless among us, how we treat those whose behaviour appears alien to us, and those entrusted to our care.
Power and violence are intricately intertwined. Power that lacks a moral compass breeds violence. The more power an institution or authority possess, the greater potential there is for them to inflict violence and suffering, underscoring the criticality of responsibility and accountability in the exercise of that power. When power, exemplified in this instance by the police, becomes unchecked, it becomes increasingly callous and poses a threat to all lives within a society, whether human or non-human.
Violence sanctioned by authorities is a reflection of dominant social norms whereas the response to that violence mirrors our very own moral sensitivities. Challenging prevailing norms requires moral courage. As Schweitzer (1949) astutely observed, “[w]e are afraid of shocking or offending by showing too plainly how deeply we are moved by the sufferings which man causes to the non-human creatures.” All of us, regardless of the causes we prioritise, whether it be ecological or social justice, or concerns regarding police violence, need to care about the violent fate of Marshall and Millions. Misperception and species- or breed-specific myths have grave consequences for animals when they get enshrined in our minds, culture and policies. Justice requires fair treatment, which demands a nuanced knowledge of non-human animals. The urgency of this kind of knowledge however hinges on our moral imagination. As Nussbaum (2022) says, “we humans can and must do better (p. xxvi).”
REFERENCES
- Bernstein, J. M. (2015). Torture and Dignity: An Essay on Moral Injury. Chicago: University of Chicago Press
- Butler, J. (2015). Precariousness and grievability. VERSO. Retrieved 16 May, 2023, https://www.versobooks.com/en-gb/blogs/news/2339-judith-butler-precariousness-and-grievability
- Congdon, M. (2016). Wronged beyond words: On the publicity and repression of moral injury. Philosophy and Social Criticism, 42(8), 815–834.
- Drewermann, E. (2011) Der Umgang des Menschen mit dem Tier in theologisch-ethischer Perspektive. Retrieved 16 May, 2023, from https://www.fromm-gesellschaft.eu/images/pdf-Dateien/Drewermann_E_2012.pdf
- Nussbaum, M. (2022). Justice for animals – our collective responsibility. Simon & Schuster. New York.
- Scarry, E. (2006). “The body in pain”: An interview with Elaine Scarry. Concentric: Literary and Cultural Studies, 32.2, 223-37. Retrieved 16 May, 2023, from http://www.concentric-literature.url.tw/issues/Who%20Speaks%20for%20the%20Human%20Today/10.pdf
- Schweitzer, A. (1964). My address to the people. Retrieved 16 May, 2023, from https://www.nonviolent-resistance.info/exhibitions/eng/schweitzer/address.htm
- Schweitzer, A. (1949). The ethic of reverence for life – excerpted from civilization and ethics (Part
- II of the philosophy of civilization). Translated by John Naish. Retrieved 16 May, 2023, from http://www.animal-rights-library.com/texts-c/schweitzer01.htm
- Tallberg, L., Huopalainen, A., & Hamilton, L. (2020). Can methods do good? Ethnology and multispecies research as a response to Covid-19 . Ethnologia Fennica, 47(2), 103 112. https://doi.org/10.23991/ef.v47i2.97592
Guest blog by: Dr Roghieh Dehghan-Zaklaki
Roghieh is a PhD Research Fellow at Faculty of Arts and Humanities at University College London. Her academic work focuses on the health of marginalised populations and has been pursued alongside her practice as a General Practitioner in London. Her main research focus is mental health, trauma and ethics.