In the mid-1980s, faced with similar staffing and facilities problems, the Atlanta Zoo began a program to reinvent itself. In 1984 Parade magazine named the Atlanta Zoo as one of the ten worst zoos in the America. With the support of civic leaders and the community at large, Dr. Terry Maple, an experienced primate behaviorist, was appointed as the new zoo director, and projects and programs were launched to reverse the zoo’s decline. Such efforts take large doses of financial resources, but, more important, even larger doses of informed introspection, determination, and hard work. The catalyst for the initial changes at Zoo Atlanta was a series of embarrassing animal-welfare debacles involving charges of mismanagement, poor animal care, and the death of an elephant. As president of the American Association of Zoo Veterinarians at the time, I met with a commissioner of the city of Atlanta who was desperate to find outside counsel to resolve their problems. The best advice that I could give her was that the real solutions rested locally, in the hands of the community and its leaders, and that only local commitment could turn their situation around from its present dismal state and avoid shutting the zoo. The humiliating problems that were haunting them with humane societies and the US Department of Agriculture were symptomatic of the lack of civic support and vision for a first-class zoological garden. Starting with the recruitment of Maple as zoo director, they assembled an entire new professional team which dramatically changed the culture of their organization and the course of the zoo. Zoo Atlanta is now a focus of community pride and had to make no apologies when Atlanta later became the host for the Olympic Games.
In 1971, in an article describing the then decaying Central Park Zoo in New York City, Eugene J. Walter, the former editor of the New York Zoological Society’s magazine Wildlife Conservation, wrote in Venture Magazine: “While it might be a great place to buy a balloon or frozen custard, it is nearly everything that a dreadful zoo can be. It is an animal slum where the remarkable products of millions of years of evolution are condemned to an irrelevant, bankrupt, freak-show existence in buildings that are eyesores and nose sores. The animals here relate to nothing. Suppose you placed the finest stars of the Metropolitan Opera—isolated singly or in pairs—in a series of cramped, bleak tenement rooms, each furnished with a rickety chair and a bare light bulb. Would you then expect to step out into the hall and see and hear Carmen? Small wonder that people hoot and snicker at the animals. Ultimately the spectators become the real freaks. The dozens of pathetic little menageries like Central Park’s suffer not merely from lack of money or space but from poverty of imagination.” Subsequently, the management of this zoo and of New York’s Prospect Park and Queens zoos was assumed by The Wildlife Conservation Society, and needed improvements followed. As of 2003, however, the city budget crisis was causing cuts in funding to these facilities, and thoughts of yesteryear’s problems came back to old-timers’ minds.
Some advocates believe that animals have rights akin to humans. Parallels have been made to slavery, women’s suffrage, racism, and other social injustices over the centuries. On the surface, many people react to this deceptively simple notion by agreeing that animals, indeed, should have “rights.” However, accepting this premise leads to other obligatory extensions that are both illogical and self-defeating. Nonetheless, some municipalities are now considering and even adopting proposals that prohibit domestic dogs and cats from being regarded as private property and, instead, require that humans be designated as their “guardians.”
The animal welfare movement itself is factionalized, just as most other social movements are. On one extreme, some animal groups equate animals to people, object to eating animal products of any sort (veganism) and believe that using animals for agriculture, disease research, pets, or exhibition is immoral. (Remember Miss Dillenbeck and the goldfish.) Some are even on record as believing that discovering a cure for AIDS could not justify the loss of a single rodent’s life in research.
Dealing with informational requests from adversarial animal-rights groups and reporters can generate quicksand for the unprepared zoo spokesperson. Since the intentions of such requests to zoos are sometimes unfriendly in today’s climate, it is interesting to observe how they have been handled. One of the more innovative responses came from Dr. Lucy Spelman, director of the National Zoo in Washington, to a writer for The Washington Post and several animal-rights groups that had requested copies of the medical records of a giraffe that had died in the animal collection. (Bear in mind here that a primary tactic of the more aggressive animal rights groups is to achieve legal “rights” for animals, as we accord human rights to persons.) Spelman’s reply was that the disclosure of these medical records would constitute a breach of the animal’s “right to privacy”—leaving animal rights petitioners in the unenviable position of now having to argue that animals had no such rights. The initial response to her statement from the biomedical research community was horror—a key official in a major zoo was conceding that animals had some rights! In the final analysis, however, most had to agree that her position was a tactical, if short-lived, victory, as it shifted the request from an administrative one to a contradictory ethical one. The records of most public institutions require a practical degree of transparency, however, so long as this access is not used to disrupt normal operations unfairly.
The next positions toward the middle of the animal welfare free-for-all are held by yet another set of advocates who may forego some of the more extreme demands; they find pet animals acceptable, may support compromise (imperfect) vegetarianism, and have a wide range of views on biomedical research, farming practices, and zoological gardens. More in the mainstream, overall, are the general populace and the major animal humane societies in the United States. Rather than being absolutist in their objections to a particular activity (for example, zoos, research, or farming) as a class, they have developed attitudes that attempt to measure and improve the outcomes of these activities and to require and assess rationales for utilizing animals. In other words, they support the justifiable use of animals for human objectives and are more pragmatic in their approach. They believe that there should be limits on the use of animals for human purposes and often propose to accomplish this by regulations and laws. Opponents of more regulation, however, believe that the direction and management of even mainstream animal welfare organizations is being coopted by their infiltration with radical animal-rights elements. Collaborative efforts between animal welfare organizations and biomedical researchers have advanced further in the United Kingdom than in the United States, where inquiries by animal welfare groups are usually treated with suspicion and mistrust.
A polarized group wants to eliminate zoos and biomedical research from the face of the earth, whereas a centrist group argues that animals should be humanely and justifiably utilized. In the extreme approaches, tactics are designed to be controversial and confrontational in order to leverage media coverage. Centrist groups seek to modify and selectively correct and improve shortcomings and are moderate in their publicity methods. One of the most radical elements, sometime called “animal liberation” groups, have more of a car-bombing mentality. They set animals free from labs, zoos, and farms, burn and vandalize research facilities, toss red paint on fur wearers, and clandestinely threaten individuals. They often operate as isolated cells and use other, less radical, groups as their spokespersons. Several threats against farming interests have even implied the possibility of bioterrorism to thwart animal enterprises. The FBI is probably looking for them now, and the renewed efforts to combat terrorism following the World Trade Center attacks should cause them to rethink some of their tactics, for their day in court will be different than before.
On the opposite extreme of the animal liberationists are those who believe that humans have absolute dominion over animals in every sense and find no objections to animal fighting, staged trophy hunting, and even illegal activities. One of the more trivial contributions to the antagonism of animal rights folks included the formation of a counter-PETA
pseudo-organization called “People for Eating Tasty Animals. “ The original PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) was so cyber-illiterate to begin with that the tasty animal founder preemptively purchased the domain name “PETA.org.” At his newly launched web site, the virtues of consumptive animal uses were extolled, bon vivant recipes were shared for preparing meat, and a cyberfinger was wagged at all “animal rights wackos.” A lengthy dispute to obtain the right to use that domain name ensued, with the animal-rights organization’s trademark-infringement claims prevailing over the “free speech” claims of the parody site. PETA got its name back.
Those individuals and groups who reject regulation of any sort, and who believe that they alone know best how to use and care for animals, are as unproductive as the animal-rights extremists. This was the attitude of a relatively small group of zoo people after the passage of the Animal Welfare Act in 1966, but it never persisted in the manner that it has lingered within the field of biomedical research, where a few individuals still hold to the conviction that their lofty goals require full attention to their work, unfettered by so-called bureaucratic red tape. Like the National Rifle Association, they steadfastly view all regulatory initiatives as calculated to prevent them from engaging in their lawful activities. The hardliners will not publicly acknowledge that much, if any, benefit has ever come from animal welfare regulation. While they are a tiny minority, their attitudes influence policy within their professional groups and institutions and engender residual ambivalence about the need for competent animal care and use programs in research institutions. Moreover, by their strong and inflexible opposition to the regulatory process, they exclude and alienate themselves from joining in the formative deliberations to negotiate the very standards that they will have to live with, viewing this as braiding their own hangman’s noose.
The most credible spokespersons in the animal ethics dialogues seem to be those who refuse to become trapped into the “rights” vs. “no rights” backwaters, and who simply believe that humans have obligations to treat animals with respect and kindness and that the use of animals for research and exhibition should be monitored, measured, and carried out with a minimum degree of stress or discomfort. They also believe that zoos and research institutions should assure the quality of the lives of their animal charges, and not be above justifying their existence to society; and that scientists, zoo managers, farmers, and the like should be able to support programs for the welfare of animals. After all, regulation is not only necessary to protect animals, but also the credibility of their professions and enterprises. But, most obvious of all, zoological gardens, agriculture, and research organizations cannot thrive in the absence good animal care.
In the early 1980s I testified in a landmark legal action that gave rise to PETA. The 1981 incidents that brought this case to court involved a research laboratory in Silver Spring, Maryland, which was conducting neurological studies of stroke, using a group of fifteen macaque monkeys. Much has been said and written about these events since then, and it has had a profound effect on the manner in which animal research is now conducted in the United States. These particular complaints involved charges that a researcher had failed to provide adequate veterinary care, as required by local humane regulations and the federal Animal Welfare Act. The research in question involved surgically severing sensory spinal nerves, resulting in complications, particularly sensory deficits, in the forelimbs. The monkeys often proceeded to self-mutilate themselves and developed serious infections in their hands and wrists, resulting in deformations and, in some cases, amputations.
Because of my background in zoo primate medicine and the reticence of the district attorney to obtain counsel from veterinarians within the research establishment, I was asked to examine the monkeys and document their condition. They had been “kidnapped” from the research facility and held in seclusion by PETA founders Alex Pacheco, Ingrid Newkirk, and others in the basement of a private suburban residence. This specific incident was the genesis of the PETA organization. Along with another zoo veterinarian and local police officers, I sedated and examined the animals. The evaluation of the monkeys began with a meeting with police and the prosecuting attorney to review their evidence and the documentation of their investigation. Among the police photographs that were shown to us was a deceased whole monkey, its hand still bandaged, weighted down with an auto crankshaft in a barrel of embalming fluid, unsanitary conditions in the animal facility, and the mummified hand of a research monkey being used as a paperweight on the researcher’s desk. If nothing else, considering the delicateness of using primates in research, this researcher was guilty of bad taste. Claims were later made that Pacheco had staged some of the photos, perhaps by skipping some cage cleanings, but the whole truth of these matters may never be fully known.
The bandages on the hand of the monkey in the barrel were apparently used to manage an infection. Even though inadequate veterinary care was the principal issue in the trial, the defense (wisely) never pointed to the crankshaft monkey with the bandage as evidence that medical care was being provided. No medical records were available to document the animals’ medical care. A contract veterinarian occasionally visited the facility but left no evidence of his evaluations or treatments. The trial ended in a conviction for violating animal humane laws in Maryland; however, the researcher’s conviction was reversed on a jurisdictional basis (it was claimed that this was a federal, not a local, matter for adjudication). Since funds from the National Institutes of Health were being employed in this work, a federal review of his research ensued, resulting in the withdrawal of his federal grants on NIH’s evaluation of the facts. Nonetheless, several loyal science research organizations came to the researcher’s defense and issued public statements contradicting the Maryland and federal findings.
Only a few years later, at the Head Injury Laboratory at the University of Pennsylvania, another shameful incident of monkey abuse and insensitivity unfolded, with video images that made national television and newspaper news. Baboons were shown being sadistically ridiculed and teased by research technicians after they (the monkeys) had been subjected to head trauma. Coupled with the Silver Spring fiasco, this continued the erosion the public’s perception of animal research, enraged several congressmen, and further fueled the growth of PETA, which has used the Silver Spring monkey incidents as a fundraising tool for more than twenty years. The public’s approval of biomedical research and zoos is not unconditional, but based on credible assurances of humane animal care and use. And as one candid community zoo supporter once put it to me: “Loyalty to the animals always; loyalty to the zoo when it deserves it.”
In 1985, largely because of these two research incidents, new amendments were made to the Animal Welfare Act that were intended to substantially improve the oversight of animal research by mandating a system of research oversight committees called Institutional Animal Care and Use Committees (IACUCs). Even today, however, a few vocal holdouts believe that the Silver Spring incident wrongfully criticized this research. If they had been open to the basic sensibility of animal welfare regulation, knowledgeable of the facts of this case, and able to set their agendas aside, however, they may have been spared the extraordinary success of antagonists such as PETA. One of the reasons that part of the public remains skeptical, or at least ambivalent, about animal research is the self-serving manner of a few diehards in the profession who demand secrecy and “intellectual freedom” at the expense of public scrutiny. This lingering intransigence resembles the manner in which autocratic governments operate—resentful and intolerant of criticism, egotistical in their mission, and patronizing to the public. Like most governmental bureaucracies, they operate more effectively, and in the public’s best interest, when illumination and transparency are abundant.
Fortunately, zoos—and the vast majority of biomedical researchers—have taken a different path. While there was initial resistance to the Animal Welfare Act (AWA) of 1966 as a knee-jerk reaction to gover
nment regulation, it never took on a significant level of intransigence. This legislation requires standards for a variety of animal enterprises, including research institutes, animal breeders, dealers, zoos, and circuses. Some argue that they are still inadequate. The initial uncertainties about the reasonableness of the regulations gradually abated in zoos and research facilities. Many zoos realized early on that they now had an outside agency whose reports could be used to augur for changes in animal care and facilities through their municipal governments. Zoo veterinarians and many on zoo staffs quietly applauded the new Animal Welfare Act.
Without the AWA, progress in animal care would have been much slower in coming. Its absence could have had a significant, negative impact upon the reputations and credibility of zoos. Meeting these basic requirements demanded some catching up on the part of many zoos, and the process is ongoing. Of the zoo industry problems related to humane issues, several of the most uncomfortable incidents have been due to the dealings that zoo personnel have had with unethical elements of the animal trading industry. Some zoos have been caught up in questionable sales or trades of surplus animals that have found their way to wildlife auctions, back yards, shooting ranches, and roadside zoos. A recent study by the United States Department of Agriculture demonstrated that, despite assurances to the contrary, surplus zoo animals are still finding their ways into inexperienced and unscrupulous private hands. The most dismal account of this problem is found in the 1999 book Animal Underworld, which is reviewed in the annotated bibliography at the end of this book.
Life at the Zoo Page 29