Animal Rights: An Ethical Frontier

Nicholas D. Kristof in today’s New York Times op-ed article “Humanity Even for Nonhumans,” offers a capsule summary of the contemporary Animal Rights Movement—its seeming origin with the work of ethicist Peter Singer in the early 1970s to its recent impulses, such as Spain granting basic legal rights to apes. Mr. Kristof concludes: “animal rights are now firmly on the mainstream ethical agenda.”

In my estimation Animal Rights, with the moral imperative not to inflict suffering and expanding into a Reverence for All Life, is a worthy meditation on the human condition. Is a human being of (embedded in) Nature? Or is a human being above (transcendent of) Nature?

My quote collection, In Praise of Animals, through a variety of voices explores the relationship between humankind and the rest of the animal kingdom, including the ethical dimension. To help the reader navigate the collection I’ve put together a reader's guide.

Morality, Evolution, and Religion

The op-ed columnist David Brooks has a good piece on morality, "The End of Philosophy," in today's New York Times. He draws from contemporary science's finding about morality being embedded in our species long evolutionary history, but emphasizes that morality is as much about cooperation as it is about competition.

He concludes with a statement/challenge regarding the scientists who study morality: "They’re good at explaining how people make judgments about harm and fairness, but they still struggle to explain the feelings of awe, transcendence, patriotism, joy and self-sacrifice, which are not ancillary to most people’s moral experiences, but central. The evolutionary approach also leads many scientists to neglect the concept of individual responsibility and makes it hard for them to appreciate that most people struggle toward goodness, not as a means, but as an end in itself."

In my estimation Mr. Brooks is among a handful of popular voices who seek to bridge contemporary science's knowledge and religion's traditional values. I don't always agree with him; but I respect him, because he acknowledge's the writing on the wall. In today's column he accepts the "evolutionary approach to morality" that contemporary science offers.

Bittersweet Days of Mellow October: A Lament

"Bittersweet Days" rememembers that the original vines that grow on the outfield walls of Wrigley Field were purchased and planted by Bill Veeck, Jr. in September 1937. Veeck strung bittersweet from the bottom of the wall to the top, then planted ivy at the base. The ivy prospered, but like days gone by, the bittersweet is no more.

Bittersweet, with its October bursting fruit, is an ironic metaphor for the century long absence of a World Series in Wrigley Field.

A lament is a song or poem of regret or mourning. The Book of Psalms has several laments. This lament for the Chicago Cubs Professional Baseball Team grieves and remembers a hundred years of futility. No other poetic form can speak to the despair generations of Cubs' fans have endured.

Read aloud "Bittersweet Days of Mellow October" with pained passion and possibly a rending of team garments. Uttered by enough fans, perhaps 2009 will be the year Fate turns.

O, Bittersweet Days of Mellow October,
paint Veeck’s ivy red and gold.

Haunt the gloamin’ with Gabby’s homer
ever-arching into twilight;

Stir memories of heroes whose diamond deeds
hallow honored names:

Tinkers, Evers, and Chance;

Jolly Cholly and Hack;

Santo, Banks, and Williams;

Hawk and Ryno;

And a host of others—

Men playing a boys’ game for the sake
of the youth in us all.

Season heaped upon season—
April sowed October disappointment.

Yet our heroes did not fail us.

Where Waveland and Sheffield meet,
They gave us the timeless summer—
long-shadowed afternoons, each its little eternity.

“Let’s play two!”

O, Bittersweet Days of Mellow October,
sound from brick walls echoes of games-gone-by.

Blend faded cheers with yesterday’s voices—
Jack and Lou and Harry: “Hey, Hey!” and “Holy Cow!”

O, Bittersweet Days, the veil between realities
grows thin and ragged.

Through time’s momentary breach, banish forever the curse
of the Billy Goat.

O, Mellow October, grace the Heartland
with a long-awaited harvest.

Bring a World Series to ivy covered walls.

And when the games have ended and a championship won,

May it be that high atop the scoreboard
a white flag with a blue W snaps to autumn’s cleansing winds,
waving bold and glad and proud against sculling clouds
and grand towers and aching years of unrequited desire.