Befriending Your Food: Pigs and People Coming of Age in the Anthropocene
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social sciences $€ £ ¥ Article Befriending Your Food: Pigs and People Coming of Age in the Anthropocene Mary Trachsel Rhetoric, University of Iowa, Iowa City, IA 52242, USA; [email protected] Received: 15 February 2019; Accepted: 23 March 2019; Published: 31 March 2019 Abstract: Geologists and ecologists report that Earth is undergoing its sixth massive extinction event, an occasion that calls for radical revision of conservation ethics. The biologist Edward O. Wilson has proposed that conservation projects in the Anthropocene should be grounded in biophilia, an evolved, relational (or biocentric) mode of perception that activates aesthetic and affective responses to non-human life alongside cognitive understanding. Because biophilia includes non-rational modes of perception, the nurturing of biophilic conservation ethics cannot fall to ecology alone; imaginative literature, for example, can prompt readers to imagine and work to realize more environmentally friendly roles for humans and, further, can assist in cultivating a conservation ethic suited to current ecological conditions. In particular, coming-of-age novels about friendships between people and pigs offer an alternative to the industrial “pork story” that seeks to gain narrative control of relational norms between people and pigs, at the expense of biodiversity and ecological health. Three such novels published in 2017 depict human–pig friendships, a relational model created by pigs’ shift in status from food to companion animals. In presenting this realignment, the stories facilitate development of a biophilic conservation ethic. Keywords: biocentrism; biophilia; conservation ethics; friendship; human–animal relationships; narrative ethics; pig; relational ethics; young adult literature 1. Biophilia Opens a Relational Approach to Conservation Ethics Well before the term “Anthropocene” entered public usage, scientists were already describing the end of the 20th century in geological terms, as an era witnessing Earth’s sixth massive wave of extinction (See Leakey and Lewin 1995; Kolbert 2014). They report that an event like this has not registered in the geological record since the dinosaurs closed down the cretaceous period, 65 million years ago. The biologist Edward O. Wilson offers the name “Eremocene,” the age of loneliness, as an alternative label that calls attention not to humans but to other forms of life that are rapidly becoming lost to the world. Such reports rarely penetrate human awareness very deeply, given that we experience our lifetimes in months, years, and decades rather than geological eras, and that the human species itself apparently is not facing imminent extinction. Still, ecologists tell us we should be worried about the fates of our fellow species, because our lives are tied up in theirs—because any one species’ chances of survival are enhanced by the biodiversity of its environment, while its likelihood of extinction rises as fewer species share the work of shoring up the system against ecological collapse. Like many other biologists and environmentalists1, Wilson has argued that we need to take a long view of ourselves as participants, along with all other species, in a global web of life in order to establish 1 Many environmental scientists and philosophers throughout the world share Wilson’s premise that human action to preserve the non-human environment requires a departure from anthropocentric ethics and an engagement of multiple human perceptive modes. A listing of but a few of these thinkers and writers includes the Norwegian philosopher Arne Naess, who coined the term and developed the concept of “deep ecology,” the US science writer, Rachel Carson, whose Silent Spring Soc. Sci. 2019, 8, 106; doi:10.3390/socsci8040106 www.mdpi.com/journal/socsci Soc. Sci. 2019, 8, 106 2 of 18 a conservation ethic that is scientifically grounded and more fully engaged with non-human nature than science alone permits. Wilson envisions a coming together of biology and bioethics to produce “moral reasoning of a new and more powerful kind” (Biophilia, p. 138), a multi-modal, relational way of knowing that he calls “biophilia.” Literally, the term translates as “love for life,” but Wilson means it much more broadly. For him, biophilia describes an orientation to the natural world that engages not just the sensory and rational intelligence of the scientist, but also the aesthetic and affective powers of human mind that cause us sapiens to care about what we know of life beyond ourselves. Biophilic perception, Wilson has hypothesized, arises from an innate sense of human “affiliation” with other forms of life (Wilson 2002; Wilson 1984, p. 1). This relational way of knowing finds its biological explanation in the Darwinian premise of the phylogenetic continuity of all life on Earth. As a biologist, Wilson assumes a human kinship with other living things that is traceable in our common genetic ancestry. To the extent that we regard our own species as the crown of creation and the mind or soul of the planet, we are disinclined to acknowledge nonhuman kin, but Wilson rejects this anthropocentric worldview. In its place, he proposes a conservation ethic in which interspecies kinship neither shames nor diminishes humanity, but instead, elevates nonhuman life to family status. Such a move, Wilson believes, is necessary to dissuade us from treating other species as though they are disposable. At the heart of Wilson’s biophilic conservation ethic is a human willingness to share Earth’s finite natural resources with other species, and in performing this willingness, he recommends a property-sharing contract that dedicates half the Earth’s surface to the support of nonhuman life (Wilson 2016). Wilson worried in 1984 that bioethics was lagging behind biological understanding of human continuity with the rest of life. As a discipline, bioethics has been primarily concerned with human-centered questions about the interface of human life and technology—about the allocation of organs for transplantation, for example, or about the manipulation of human genetics and reproduction, or about the technological capacity to extend or terminate human life. Alongside these anthropocentric concerns, Wilson noted, bioethicists at the end of the century had “only begun to consider the relationships between human beings and [other] organisms with the same rigor” (Biophilia, p. 119). Biophilia is his response to this imbalance, a biocentric morality that arises from feelings about, as well as knowledge of, our connectedness to other-than-human life. Wilson has argued that science education shares with other academic branches a moral educational mission to promote care as well as knowledge of the natural world. Science, he maintains, should help humanity compose an ethical response to the ongoing loss of biodiversity around us, and this response should be informed by instincts and feelings excluded by the calculational reasoning and empirical focus of science. Many ecologically-minded science education programs throughout the world do seek to foster feelings of care that translate into action on behalf of nonhuman life. Jane Goodall’s internationally recognized “Roots and Shoots” program is a prominent case in point, and in the U.S., science education with an emphasis on relational knowing has assumed the battle cry, “No Child Left Inside.” A program directly influenced by Wilson’s biophilia hypothesis is Richard Louv’s (2005) Children and Nature Network, popularized through the best-selling Last Child in the Woods and The Nature Principle (Louv 2011). As in comparable science education programs, the methodology of Louv’s “New Nature Movement,” is immersion in the natural world to counteract “nature deficit disorder” and to re-establish the aesthetic and affective bonds with nature that have evolved within the human psyche. (1962) brought public awareness to the environmental impacts of human activity, the Australian philosopher Val Plumwood, whose Environmental Culture (2002) lays out the framework for “ecological rationality,” and the US environmentalist Frances Moore Lappe, whose EcoMind (2011) similarly prescribes an internal transformation in order to bring humans into greater harmony with the rest of the natural world. Soc. Sci. 2019, 8, 106 3 of 18 A shortcoming of immersion programs like Goodall’s and Louv’s, however, is that their implementation is largely confined to children’s education.2 Although Louv argues in The Nature Principle that adults as well as children suffer from nature deficit disorder, most advanced levels of science education continue to focus exclusively on scientific method, empirical knowledge, and the use of observational enhancement technology. Advanced science education continues to separate the biological science of ecology from the relational experience of nature, reinforcing a conceptual divide between natural science and naturalism. In such a system, the notion of human kinship with other organisms appears sentimental and non-scientific, discouraging the revolution in moral reasoning that Wilson and others have insisted we need. Cultivating a sense of kinship with nonhuman life, then, especially as children age into adulthood, becomes a moral education responsibility that science alone is not equipped to uphold. A scientific view of more-than-human nature exercises and sharpens human observational powers, but it does little to cultivate, and is often hostile to, narrative engagement. By “narrative engagement” I mean a relational engagement that entails