Human Zoos MATHIS GASSER Will you find yourself in a zoo? Zoos — facilities where typically wild animals are kept, cared for by zookeepers, displayed to the public and in some cases bred — have been around for over 200 years. Throughout history people have been put in enclosures as well — prisons being the first to come to mind. Below we will go through some zooish examples and scenarios. Top: A man walking at low tide at Lau Fau Shan on July 3, 2015, with the fast-developing city of Shenzhen (metropolitan population of 23 million) on mainland China seen in the background. Courtesy Bobby Yip/Reuters[1] Bottom: In the wake of the 2004 tsunami, this Sentinelese tribe member aims his bow and arrow at a Coast Guard helicopter. Human Animals Before entering the human zoo, there is the animal question. Human brains are, evolutionarily speaking, more evolved than the brains of any other species. Chimpanzees, dolphins, elephants, dogs come close in some areas, but you know. Covid-19 is a stark reminder just how deeply we are linked to the wider human-animal-plant ecosystem. Viruses have traveled from animals to humans and vice versa — called ‹reverse zoonosis›— since their evolutionary divergence ca. 5 to 7 million years ago.[2] We tend to overlook how changes we bring to environments affect us in turn. As Christine Kreuder Johnson from the Epicenter for Disease Dynamics notes, «spillover of viruses from animals is a direct result of our actions involving wildlife and their habitat. The consequence is they’re sharing their viruses with us.»[3] ln the late 1960s zoologist Desmond Morris wrote The Naked Ape and The Human Zoo, comparing human and animal behavior. For Morris, The zoo animal in a cage exhibits all these abnormalities that we know so well from our human companions. Cleary, then, the city is not a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo. The comparison we must make is not between the city-dweller and the wild animal, but between the city-dweller and the captive animal.[4] Morris goes on to describe the urban environment where the modern human finds itself in a «huge, restless menagerie in constant danger of cracking under the strain. But despite the hazards, it is the most exciting game the world has ever seen.» Indeed, according to a European Commission forecast, by 2100, some 85% of the global population will live in cities.[5] Emerging from Covid-19 lockdowns, many find solace in crowds, including Black Lives Matter, climate and anti-lockdown protests. Some of them are inspiring, some truly puzzling. Some are not protests at all but raves or riots. A passage from The Human Zoo reads, «if they feel themselves trapped in a planner’s prison they will stage a prison riot. If the environment does not permit creative innovations, they will smash it in order to be able to start again. This is one of the greatest dilemmas our societies face. To resolve it is our formidable task for the future.»[6] The international animal charity ‹Born Free› seized the moment for their ‹Creature Discomforts› campaign to raise awareness for captive, mistreated animals. The campaign shows animals talk as if in Covid-19 self-isolation. One realizes that for animals, captivity is a permanent condition. [iframe -> https://player.vimeo.com/video/530296337?h=0a37d80a9c&app_id=122963] Born Free advert.[7] In her recent book ‹When Animals Speak: Toward an Interspecies Democracy›, artist and animal ethicist Eva Meijer writes that «animals have been speaking to us all along.»[8] We are just bad listeners — «animals are stuck with us on this planet, and we are stuck with them. They pester us, threaten us, entertain us, and, as we have been recently reminded, infect us — as we infect them in turn. Like it or not — and some of them surely do not — we exist in relationship with animals.»[9] One project to better understand animals, their movements, interactions with humans and earthquake sensing is the ICARUS initiative, online since 2019. [10] Putting trackers on animals sounds fairly evil, but carrying smartphones makes us as traceable. We are issued passports with rights attached, while animals are excluded from any form of citizenship even though they are part of the same ecosystem. A tracker would be an animal passport of sorts and a way to acknowledge the existence of the individual animal. It could be a first step in drafting global animal rights. Without tracker they are more likely to remain sidelined (much like homeless people or undocumented migrants). North Sentinel Island Covid-19 has unlocked a new awareness of bodies in spatial confines. Stepping outside, especially at the beginning of the first lockdown, felt different, there was a new sense of inside and outside. After a few weeks, the inside became for some, I imagine, a cage, an official (stay indoors) yet private (how to deal with it) claustro-existentialist mini phase. Self- isolation, a term that previously evoked prison environments or fictional scenarios (Orange is the New Black) would become — who would have thought in January 2020 — a new way of living.[11] For the Sentinelese, living in near total isolation from the global community is the norm. The Sentinelese are the indigenous people of North Sentinel Island, a square shaped island the size of Manhattan in the Bay of Bengal. The island is part of the Andaman Archipelago, a union territory of India. The Sentinelese are among the last tribal people to remain virtually untouched by modern civilization. With a population estimated to be between 39 and 400, the inhabitants are hostile to visitors.[12] Nord Sentinel Island. Paradise or crime scene? In 2018, missionary and adventure blogger John Allen Chau attempted to preach Christianity to the North Sentinel tribespeople. Chau was killed upon arrival by tribesmen. The case was being treated as a murder but there has been no suggestion that anyone would be charged.[13] The incident raises a set of challenging questions. How does a government, the Indian one in this case, deal with a hostile, uncontacted tribe facing the threat of infectious diseases to which they have no immunity, as well as potential abuse from intruders, particularly adventure tourists? The Indian government has declared the entire island and the surrounding waters extending in a 5-mile radius from the island to be an exclusion zone.[14] The nearest neighboring island is almost 20 miles away — roughly the distance between England and France at the Strait of Dover. Seven individuals were taken into custody by Indian police on suspicion of helping Chau illegally obtain access to the island.[15] Survival International is an organization dedicated to the protection of uncontacted tribes. In a statement they critique the authorities for having «lifted one of the restrictions that had been protecting the Sentinelese tribe’s island from foreign tourists, which sent exactly the wrong message, and may have contributed to this terrible event.»[16] But can the Indian government really be blamed? Only constant surveillance with alert mechanisms would provide absolute safety from intruders. The implementation of such a system raises additional questions. Total surveillance would effectively turn the island into a zoo-like cage with humans inside. As travel writer Jim Dobson notes, «this outcast paradise, removed from all civilization, is surrounded by more mystery than any science fiction film.»[17] Top: Indigenous people of the Andaman Archipelago. North Sentinel Island is colored red. Bottom: Jarawa youngsters. By the 2000s, some Jarawas had become regular visitors at settlements where they trade, interact with tourists, get medical aid, and even send their children to school.[18] On the nearby South and Middle Andaman Islands, road building and rising tourism have fundamentally changed the local Jarawa tribe. The Andaman Trunk Road cuts through their territory. The road has given rise to ‹human safaris,› where tour operators take tourists on rides in the hope of spotting one of the 250 to 400 members of the tribe.[19] Diseases like measles can be devastating for a tribe like the Jarawas.[20] Given enough time and infrastructure investment projects, what happened to the Jarawa may happen to the Sentinelese. Despite efforts there is little one can do to stop the world from coming closer. Much like The Truman Show, the Sentinelese might one day become ‹content› of some desperate vlogger beaming their voluntary isolation into modern living rooms by filming or live streaming their daily routines. This vision is not far-fetched: as Jim Dobson writes, «several local operators are now starting to organize the ultimate human safari in protected armored boats to the shores of North Sentinel.»[21] There are manifold ethical issues related to uncontacted tribes.[22] Ideally, they would continue to live in peace, shielded from modernity and safe from the threat of infectious disease. But modernity, this insatiable movement, spreads like wildfire across the globe. Like literal wildfire especially in Brazil where deforestation caused by illegal logging is a direct threat to uncontacted tribes. Modernity is also literally hungry, relentlessly demanding meat. Agriculture is arguably the most destructive human activity on the planet.[23] The current Brazilian government under Bolsonaro doesn’t commit to protection efforts. At the current rate, the Amazon rainforest will be reduced by 40% by 2030.[24] The immediate victims are the many remaining tribes of the Amazon. There are no easy solutions. Brazil is a sovereign state deciding its own policies. Top: Fire and deforestation scar the Iriri national forest reserve near Novo Progresso in the Brazilian Amazon. Credit: Lucas Landau/The Guardian.[25] Middle: A NASA satellite observation of forest fires resulting from deforestation in August 2007.