By Jessie Fillingim, Columnist
At one time in our history, the criminal prosecution of animals was commonplace. Although it seems silly now, an animal guilty of causing the death of a child could be dragged into court, interrogated in front of a jury, and executed for its crime. Early prosecutors may not have believed that the animal understood the nature of its actions, but nonetheless, someone—or something—needed to be punished in order to purge the community of the tragedy.
The practice of persecuting animals for their crimes isn’t limited to 12th century Europe. Each time an animal claims the life of a human, we face the ethical dilemma of who to blame.
Maintaining that trainer Dawn Brancheau should have taken precautions when handling Tilikum, or ‘Tilly,’ the killer whale that caused her death, Sea World representatives confirm that Tilly will continue to perform at the park. The remarks of Sea World representatives suggesting that Brancheau is to blame for her own death are likely a defensive move. People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals and others blame the Orlando theme park, claiming that wild animals are ‘neurotic’ in captivity. In fact, Tilly has caused the death of two others.
Whether Sea World or Brancheau is to blame, the decision to pardon Tilly for three deaths points out a glaring inconsistency in our treatment of animals. In Florida, where Sea World Orlando is located, ‘dangerous dog’ laws require owners to register dogs that have a history of aggression, which includes any incident of biting, chasing, or attacking a human. If a dangerous dog attacks or causes severe injury or death to a person, the dog will be killed, and the owner is guilty of a felony. And yet, a killer whale guilty of the same crime continues to perform and profit its owner.
The law’s inconsistence highlights our own paradoxical attitudes about what treatment animals deserve. But the reasoning behind our ethical conclusions is untenable.
If the orca’s superior intelligence justifies our distinction between the species, we base determinations of a being’s worth on mental capacity. We don’t allow such prejudice in our own species, so why should we tolerate this distinction between species?
Perhaps killing an animal we hold captive for entertainment value stirs up that underlying guilt we feel every time we go to the zoo. Sure, Sea World helps increase the endangered killer whale population, but conservation efforts do not require the use of animals for entertainment purposes. And yet, our guilt never seems to keep us from actually going to the zoo. Three days after the Sea World attack, over 2,000 people attended the reopening of the orca show.
For many well-meaning individuals, going to the zoo triggers a response that allows removes feelings of guilt. When we open our wallet, we shut off our brain. We are able to deny that our money has any power, but the 2,000 Sea World patrons that attended the reopening overwhelmingly supported the continued exhibition of orca whales. Even when we feel the greatest admiration for the captive animals, we may be contributing to practices we disagree with by purchasing park admission.
We cannot rely on our feelings alone to determine the standard of treatment for animals. A dangerous dog, though not as cute, deserves the same passionate protection we give to a dangerous orca. Casting blame never truly purges a community of its tragedy. The only hope for restoration is in our capacity to exercise ethical choices in our treatment towards animals.
