Animals and the Human Imagination: A Companion to Animal Studies

Introduction and Overview

Animal Others and Animal Studies

Aaron Gross

Animals! The object of insatiable interest, examples of the riddle of life, created, as it were, to reveal the human being to man himself, displaying his richness and complexity in a thousand kaleidoscopic possibilities, each of them brought to some curious end.

—Bruno Schulz, The Street of Crocodiles

CONTEMPORARY THOUGHT HAS INCREASINGLY HIGHLIGHTED the tangled and circular ways that human communities everywhere imagine themselves—their subjectivity, their ethics, their ancestry—with and through animals. What is new today is not the general observation that humans do this, but a sense of the significant role animals play in the process of human self-conception.¹ Thinkers as diverse as the French philosopher Jacques Derrida, the South African novelist and Nobel laureate J. M. Coetzee, and the American theorist Donna Haraway have not only contributed to this animal turn, but also helped initiate rigorous inquiries that are now bearing fruit in a diverse array of studies, some published here for the first time. Animals, a term that proves surprisingly problematic, have moved from the shadows of our intellectual landscape and asserted their importance both as subjects in their own right and as part of the imagination of the human. Animals, this volume insists, are so deeply enmeshed in human self-conception that if they did not exist we would need to invent them.

Animal Studies as a Location of Resistance

Highlighting the co-construction of the categories human and animal is an attempt to question dominant Western articulations of the human/animal binary that overwhelmingly view this division of the world into human and animal as a fact. Far from being a datum given in the natural order, the human/animal binary has always been and remains unstable, disputed, and negotiated. As the first chapter in this volume by Tim Ingold demonstrates, many cultures do not even conceive of this bifurcation of the animate world into human persons and animal organisms. Still, to upset this usually reliable binary or even to take the full reality of animals as subjects seriously is no small task, thus the burden of a new inquiry: animal studies.

Many times, when we think we are challenging the human/animal binary we turn out to be reinforcing it. For example, in a number of contemporary discourses that tend to be labeled scientific, empirical, and experimental (e.g., the life sciences in general and the cluster of disciplines engaged under the heading of cognitive science) some scholars will unhesitatingly declare that we are human animals or that humans are animals. More often than not, such scholars also feel that by making such assertions they have done their duty to disenthrone an outdated human exceptionalism that evolutionary theory and the like have rendered implausible. Such assertions are usually understood as a challenge to religious traditions such as Christianity that would want, at least in their dominant articulation, to say that humans are not animals but rather belong in a category all their own. Such religious persons would assert that merely being a unique kind of animal, as the science-minded are happy to grant, is not a sufficient marker of human difference (for every species is by definition unique, and the human is not like any other species). From the point of view of the present volume, to challenge the human/animal binary by calling members of the species Homo sapiens human animals is insufficient. I say this because very often such apparent challenges to the human/animal binary are working with the most classical and uncritical understanding of what constitutes a human or an animal. When certain voices assert that humans are animals, they are not so much challenging the human/animal binary as challenging the idea that there is anything beyond animality (beyond the material world as known by modern science). That is, to assert humans are animals is a rejection of a certain kind of human exceptionalism. However, it is not a rejection of the division of the world into the animal—that is, the material world as known by science—and the human—that is, the material world imbued with something more: with soul as opposed to soulless beasts, with reason as opposed to irrational brutes, or with language and culture as opposed to animals that merely communicate and are driven by instinct. Often, to assert that humans are animals is precisely to accept the division of the world the human/animal binary implies. What is rejected instead is the reality of what religious practitioners call soul or the contention that Homo sapiens actually behave as rational subjects that freely create their own cultures. In many cases, to assert that humans are animals is to reinforce the dominant way of conceiving the category human and the category animal. Further, this assertion may also be an attempt to demote humans to the level of the animal—something that quite reasonably provokes unease. In such cases, the terms of thought are not changed at all, which is to say that real thinking has not begun.

The challenge of animal studies and of this volume is to think anew and in an interdisciplinary manner about the kind of being that members of the species Homo sapiens are and the kind of being represented by every other species. The challenge is to rethink our identity in the most radical sense by refusing to assume from the outset the usual categories of thought. And since the categories of human and animal are the most basic categories of Western ethics, the challenge extends to the rethinking of fundamental questions of morality, justice, and compassion. Animal studies is thus equally preoccupied with questions of ontology and ethics because it strikes at the roots of how both domains are conceived.

Just what would it mean to cease conceiving and experiencing our humanity as other than a special, higher kind of animality—as an animal plus (plus reason, plus speech, and so on)? Is it even possible to avoid thinking man by "beginning with his animalitas"?² As philosopher Matthew Calarco underscores in his important book Zoographies, What thought will encounter once reliance upon these categories [human, animal] is surrendered cannot be known in advance.³ Would human still be a useful word to describe ourselves if we could dwell outside the human/animal binary? Do we need to begin speaking of the post-human as a number of scholars have suggested?

More pointedly, is it even possible to upset the human/animal border from within the human or life sciences? The entire justification for separating the human sciences from the life sciences is the old idea that humans are a radically unique animal that cannot be studied with the same techniques used to explore the rest of the living world. Would poetry and fiction be more effective in helping us to rethink the human/animal border? Derrida goes so far as to argue that even the most innovative of the giants of continental philosophy—he singles out Martin Heidegger and Emmanuel Lévinas—have dogmatically repeated the human/animal binary despite aspects of their thinking that seem to want to go beyond it.⁴ Much more will be said about Derrida’s engagement with Heidegger on this point in part III of this volume in the chapter by Brett Buchanan. My point here is simply to emphasize the pervasiveness of the human/animal binary and the difficulty of analyzing and challenging it.

To take up the question of animal others and otherness is not so much to pick a theme as it is to adopt a location of resistance to dominant modes of human self-conception and dominant methods of scholarship. This volume, then, aims to contribute to the development of a hermeneutics—a critical lens like that offered by race or feminist theory.

Animal Studies

The present volume is an interdisciplinary and cross-cultural exploration of the phenomenon of human self-conception through animals, and through this critical engagement with animals, it provides an introduction to animal studies and simultaneously makes contributions from animal studies to a range of disciplines in the humanities and social sciences. Minimally, it provides both the necessary theoretical reflection and the diversity of exempla to convincingly show not only that animals matter as subjects in their own right (a point still in need of emphasis), but also that animal subjects and ideas about them are critical sites through which we imagine ourselves. The juxtaposition of the essays collected in this volume will help us better understand how humans imagine themselves through animal others in diverse contexts—and in ever-changing and telling ways. Those interested in examining the meaning of human or the question of subjectivity and, equally, those interested in what we problematically call human rights or animal rights should find value in considering the human/animal tangle explored here. More ambitiously, this volume is a contribution to the ongoing emergence of a discourse on animals, animal studies, that cuts across fields in the human and life sciences—a discourse that has been paralleled by increasingly sophisticated discussions of and more robust concern for animals in popular culture. Scholars have been joined by journalists, novelists, politicos, and movie stars in creating a new critical awareness of animals that has had both important implications for their ethical status (for example, the question of the factory farm)⁵ and implications for the broader significance of animals and our discourses about them. Especially because of the unusual diversity of disciplinary approaches assembled here, this volume can function as an introduction to animal studies.

While an introductory text for the nascent field of animal studies, the volume also is a contribution of animal studies to field-specific inquiries in a range of disciplines: anthropology, art history, children’s literature, Chinese history, continental philosophy, gender studies, media studies, postcolonial studies, religious studies, South Asian studies, and sociology. In suggesting that critical attention to animals is both a theme and a hermeneutic lens, I am arguing that this volume can be viewed just as fairly as diverse disciplines gathering around the theme of animals (a work in animal studies) or a multifaceted, critical animal hermeneutics engaging concerns specific to multiple disciplines (a series of essays on animals contributing to different fields). For example, Joel Novek’s Discipline and Distancing: Confined Pigs in the Factory Farm Gulag (chapter 4) finds in the hog factory farm a striking example of how certain processes—in this case disciplining and distancing—run roughshod over the human/animal divide. At this level Novek’s piece can be read as a richly contextualized example of the intimate relationship between how we understand and treat human others and how we understand and treat animal others—often to the detriment of both. At the same time, however, Novek takes insights that emerge while attending to human/animal interactions and imports them into sociology, thereby enriching our understanding of important sociological concepts, namely, discipline and distancing. This twofold movement that both contributes to a new animal hermeneutics and engages problems in other fields with this hermeneutic is an important part of the ongoing formulation of animal studies as a distinct field of study.

Comparing and Theorizing Animal Others in Context

This volume both starts with and documents the basic observation that across time and across cultures humans imagine themselves through animal others. This general observation expands the significance of any particular instance of human self-conception through animals in two basic directions: (1) it provides a basis for comparative inquiries, and (2) it allows for the theorization and critique of the general phenomena of self-conception through animals.

Comparing different exempla of human self-conception through animals can be a powerful angle of analysis to consider a diverse range of issues with important social implications. For example, such comparative work might help us better understand why the human/animal binary is so often paired with the male/female binary and usually in ways that are good for neither women nor animals. Although it is not the focus of their inquiries, in the present volume Cynthia Chris’s consideration of how the human/animal border is deployed to imagine humanity on MTV’s Wildboyz (chapter 5) and Carla Nappi’s consideration of how that border is similarly deployed in the classificatory schemes of early modern China (chapter 2) both detail significant ways that gender is bound up with the process of self-conception through animals. Strikingly, these studies of two radically different contexts both uncover links between the human/animal binary and the male/female binary. What does considering such diverse examples together tell us about the potentially oppressive mechanisms of dividing the world into human/animal and male/female in the process of imagining humanity?⁶ Such questions are raised by but cannot be answered within the present volume. The more limited aim of this volume is to sharpen our critical questions about the roles animals play in human self-conception, illustrate the significance of these roles in specific cultural contexts, and provide tools to respond to them.

Theoretically, the present volume draws on at least three different loci of scholarly discussions of animal others, all of which have become remarkably rich in the last decade. These loci include: (1) the vibrant discussions that have emanated from work in continental philosophy undertaken especially by Derrida, Heidegger, and, more recently, Giorgio Agamben (in this volume see discussions by Buchanan, Ron Broglio, Myra J. Hird, and Ashley E. Pryor); (2) the outpouring of interest in literary circles in the work of Coetzee on animals (Broglio, Pryor, and Undine Sellbach); and (3) the post-humanist discourse of scholars such as Donna Haraway (Chris, Hird, Novek, Anand Pandian, and Pryor). With some simplification we can consider these three circles of discussion, which often bleed into one another, as representative of three already partially developed pathways into a better understanding of animal others: continental philosophy, fiction, and cultural studies.

These trajectories are valuable taken in isolation, but the present volume brings these multiple angles of vision together in a triangulation that can better isolate the role of animal others in human self-conception. Interdisciplinarity of this kind is especially needed when considering animals because, as noted above, the human/animal binary governs the macrostructure of the academy by marking out the human as a unique phenomenon that requires methods of study—the human sciences—different from those methods required to examine inanimate matter or animal life, which are dealt with by the life sciences. If you are reading this volume as a student or professional scholar, the very context of your reading has already been determined by one particular Western conception of the human/animal binary. Our thoughts and experiences have already been shaped by our culture’s human/animal binary well before we come to speculate about it. Thinking about that circularity can be enough to make one dizzy, but, as we will see, such vertigo can be productive.⁷

The most useful critical theorizations of animals both allow us to see the significant cultural and existential work of animals in specific contexts and provide resources to help with the vertigo induced by the fact that the question of the animal shapes the very discourses (like the scholarly disciplines represented in this book) that later come to discuss the animal. Consider, for example, Agamben’s recent theorization of a persistent pattern of drawing a human/animal binary to imagine humanity throughout the long stretch of Christian intellectual history from Augustine forward. Agamben theorizes this human/animal binary as first "a mobile border within living man without which the very decision of what is human and what is not would probably not be possible."⁸ He calls the troubling production of this binary an anthropological machine that executes the practical political mystery of separating the human from the animal, often in violent ways.⁹ Agamben’s anthropological machine can be a useful concept to understand a range of situations in which humans define themselves against animal others, but one of its most productive features is that it does not assume there is any way for those of us who wield this theory to actually stop the anthropological machine long enough to get outside its mechanisms. His work on the animal is marked by a vigilant returning to this basic problem, which makes him especially fecund for the purposes of the present volume. See the index for guidance to engagements with Agamben scattered throughout this collection.

Although this volume as a whole offers an open-ended exploration of human self-conception through other animals, each individual essay examines this phenomenon in a particular context or contexts. It considers this phenomenon, for example, in traditional northern hunting cultures (Ingold, chapter 1); in early modern Chinese taxonomies (Nappi, chapter 2); in colonial and postcolonial Indian methods of governance (Pandian, chapter 3); in Canadian agriculture (Novek, chapter 4); in American television (Chris, chapter 5); in English-language children’s stories (Michelle Superle, chapter 6); in American environmental policy (Gavin Van Horn, chapter 7); in modern art (Broglio, chapter 8); in Western intellectual history (Buchanan, chapter 9); in contemporary relationships with pets (Pryor, chapter 10); in the process of drawing metaphors and analogies between humans and animals in contemporary Western thought (Sellbach, chapter 11); and in the way in which we conceive and relate to the microorganisms that coarse through our bodies and create the environments in which we dwell (Hird, chapter 12). By bringing this range of exempla together, it is our hope that we will not only make contributions to diverse fields, but also bring much-needed empirical data to discussions of the human/animal binary and the phenomena of human self-conception through animal others.

The Always Already Circle

This volume highlights the culturally specific, constructed nature of two categories—human and animal—while also taking seriously the reality of animals, what Coetzee calls the lives of animals (see Sellbach, chapter 11, for a discussion of Coetzee’s phrase). How can these terms—human and animal—simultaneously form a basis for comparison and be critically scrutinized, even deconstructed? I’m not sure they always can be, but both intellectual moves are possible and are more powerful when juxtaposed. We can, at least, acknowledge that because of the unique way in which animals—the biological beings out there—are always already implicated in our self-conception, we have no way of completing the critical task of thinking in genuinely new ways about animals. Perhaps the best we can do is follow the lead of thinkers like Derrida by remaining vigilant on both fronts—problematizing the very categories we use to conduct our analyses and responding to the pragmatic reality of animal suffering. In the present volume, the utility of the categories animal and human is exploited as far as possible, but its limits are also given attention. As Ingold points out in chapter 1, the very idea of culture (and thus more than one scholarly field) is mired in a similar paradox: if categories are culturally constructed, how can we use culture (which is a category and therefore constructed) as if it is neutrally applicable to all human communities? To clarify, then, the basic observation that starts and guides this volume is that those beings we know as different animal species seem to invariably play a decisive role in human self-conception. Whether these others should be conceived of and imagined as animals remains an open question.

In the present context, this always already paradox can be somewhat mitigated by the fact that the basic process of distinguishing natural kinds, species, does seem to be largely invariable. And although the taxonomies of species may differ wildly and the important groupings differ wildly (consider that in English fish refers to 27,000 different species, whereas dogs are one subspecies), there are few cross-cultural disagreements on what beings should count, for example, as Canis domesticus. In some contexts Canis domesticus is known as dog and is a companion, whereas in others Canis domesticus is more food than friend—but both communities will recognize the same beings as chickens and not chimpanzees or parrots if asked to differentiate (which may or may not be their habit). Thus we can fairly assume that those beings we know as animals are recognizable at the level of species across cultures in a way that animals, humans, tree spirits, and animal instincts are not.

In any case, the point is that the logical circle cannot be evaded. Even if we accept that there are basic human mechanisms that lead to shared recognition of species boundaries, the significance of those boundaries is up for grabs. Is the line, for example, between Homo sapiens sapiens and all other species special or is it no different, for example, than the line between Gallus gallus (the domestic chicken) and all other species? These are serious problems. At the same time, though, working over this circularity is part of the great interest of this volume and animal studies more generally. Whether we wish to exploit them for human benefit, study their use as symbols, or establish legal protections for them, we need to tolerate some dizziness to fully attend to animal others.

The Organization of This Volume

Although an extraordinarily wide range of times and places are engaged in this volume, the thrust is to bring this range of thought to bear on questions about animal others as they are unfolding today in the contemporary Western context. In keeping with this orientation toward providing a broad entry into research on animal others cross-culturally while also speaking particularly to the contemporary Western context, we have divided the essays into three parts:

  I.  Other Animals: Animals Across Cultures

 II.  Animal Matters: Human/Animal and the Contemporary West

III.  Animal Others: Theorizing Animal/Human

I. Other Animals: Animals Across Cultures

Part I aims to contribute to important discussions about animal others in the study of hunter-gatherer (Ingold), East Asian (Nappi), and South Asian (Pandian) traditions, as well as to provide case studies for broader comparative reflections that help situate what is culturally specific and what is cross-cultural in human/animal interactions. A shortened version of Ingold’s now-classic essay Hunting and Gathering as Ways of Perceiving the Environment provides an invaluable opening to the volume by demonstrating that many human communities lack even a conception of animal in the sense familiar to the modern West. Using the exempla of how northern hunters, in particular the Cree of northeastern Canada, understand their relations to the animals they hunt, Ingold makes a foundational contribution to contemporary thinking about nature/culture and the imagination of the human. A substantial quotation is in order.

Now Western thought, as is well known, drives an absolute division between the contrary conditions of humanity and animality, a division that is aligned with a series of others such as between subjects and objects, persons and things, morality and physicality, reason and instinct, and, above all, society and nature. Underwriting the Western view of the uniqueness of the human species is the fundamental axiom that personhood as a state of being is not open to nonhuman animal kinds. It is for this reason that we are able to conflate both the moral condition and the biological taxon (Homo sapiens) under the single rubric of humanity. And for this reason, too, we can countenance an inquiry into the animal nature of human beings whilst rejecting out of hand the possibility of an inquiry into the humanity of nonhuman animals…. Human existence is conceived to be conducted simultaneously on two levels, the social level of interpersonal, intersubjective relations and the natural ecological level of organism-environment interactions, whereas animal existence is wholly confined within the natural domain. Humans are both persons and organisms, animals are solely organisms.

This is a view, however, that Cree and other northern hunters categorically reject. Personhood, for them, is open equally to human and non-human animal (and even nonanimal) kinds.¹⁰

Ingold’s chapter and his larger oeuvre, which constitutes more than twenty years of reflection on the meanings of animals, is crucially important in helping contextualize the cultural similarities and differences that emerge in human self-conception.¹¹

Additionally, Ingold’s anthropologically oriented inquiry is a potentially powerful complement to work on animals in continental philosophy, including the chapters that constitute part III. Much philosophical effort has been spent pointing out the limitations of the human/animal binary and exhorting us to think outside it. Ingold’s work, by contrast, attempts to introduce us to a way of apprehending the world without the human/animal binary. Ingold’s chapter is among the few scholarly works that does not merely tell of the radically different conceptions of nonhuman animal species that appear among hunting and gathering cultures, but which evokes in readers a glimpse of how a world without the human/animal border appears. Just how challenging that task can be is suggested in an intriguing manner in the chapter by Nappi.

Nappi’s chapter explores the shifting borders between animals and humans in early modern China found in the changing classification of humanoid beasts (Chinese Yetis), wild women, monkeys, and other inhabitants of the human-animal borderlands. Her research functions in almost a converse direction to Ingold. Whereas Ingold’s work on the Cree gives a picture of a culture that conceptualizes humanity and animality in so radically different a manner that the very terms of comparison, animal and human, fail us, Nappi’s work gives a picture of a non-Western culture that reveals not only a deployment of the human/animal boundary that would be familiar to students of Western intellectual history, but many of the same anxieties around that border. Among other details, Nappi’s essay shows how these border anxieties are worked out in relation to eating (a theme also prominent in Novek, chapter 4, and Broglio, chapter 8), and gender and sex differences (also prominent in Chris, chapter 5).

Chapter 3, by Pandian, can be helpfully understood as situated between Ingold and Nappi. If Ingold brings to us a radically different understanding of nonhuman species and Nappi brings us an unexpectedly familiar one, Pandian’s work reminds us that even within a given time and place, multiple understandings of the human/animal operate in relation to and competition with one another. Highlighting symbolic and pragmatic relationships between, on the one hand, the managing of livestock and the governance of human communities and, on the other hand, between the managing of livestock and self-governance, Pandian provides a new angle of vision on the process of subjection. He shows how both political and ethical mastery relate to the problem of animal impulses and function as part of a broader process of imagining the human subject. In compelling prose, Pandian examines the processes of subjection in the British colonial subjugation of the Tamils’ Piramalai Kallar caste, which was managed as an animal herd, and the Tamils’ own deployment of pastoral vocabularies in a devotional poetics of selfhood. In a manner resonant with Novek’s linkages between oppressive treatment of humans and animals (a theme that calls for more scholarly attention), Pandian considers how pastoral tactics and vocabularies can be deployed in the service of political control or poetic self-conception.¹²

II. Animal Matters: Human/Animal and the Contemporary West

That the meanings of human and animal are always underdetermined, always shifting, always works in progress is no mere intellectual curiosity. The messy and freighted instantiations of the human/animal binary are politically and pragmatically important in our daily lives. The human/animal binary can regulate food, gender roles, and basic issues of justice. Still, for most of us, it often appears like dividing the world into humans and animals is unproblematic in practice even if philosophers quibble. As the essays in this volume demonstrate, this impression is not correct.

One rough-and-ready way to make this veiled messiness visible is simply to make the well-known, but undertheorized observation that it was not long ago that debates were heard about whether blacks or women are fully human. And more recently, powerful elements of the U.S. government—in alliance with some university scholars—have tried to place enemy combatants on the animal side of the human/animal divide, denying them basic human rights like freedom from torture.¹³ In an equally striking development, the Spanish parliament recently passed a first-of-its-kind resolution granting great apes basic human rights.¹⁴ Intriguingly, two of the most vocal groups opposing the parliament’s resolution were religious leaders and animal researchers.¹⁵

We draw attention to such charged observations not in order to turn too quickly to questions of justice (though that too would be something I might also want to do, and something which would lead us to the center of the subject),¹⁶ but rather to highlight the relevance of animal studies, including the present volume, for pragmatic and political concerns that pervade daily life. The kinds of scholarship this volume represents not only have a wide significance within the academy, but can be relevant for those interested in guiding public policy, which, of course, frequently involves the regulation of animal bodies. Novek’s and Van Horn’s chapters deal with public policy directly—agriculture and wildlife management, respectively. As we noted above, Novek considers what in many ways is the most important event in contemporary human-animal relations, the rise of the factory farm.¹⁷ Van Horn’s historically rich and detailed article traces the complex interplay between the popular American perception and treatment of wolves—which ranges from disdainful violence to a religiously charged admiration—and related understandings of fundamental human relationships to the lands of the United States and to the wider biotic community. As Van Horn shows, these shifting perceptions—and their manipulation by politicians, ranchers, and activists—have been deeply influential on both federal management of wilderness and the evolution of conservation as a social movement. Similarly, both Pryor’s and Hird’s chapters in part III point us toward alternative conceptualizations of ethics.

In one or another way, all the articles in part II of this volume point to parts of our everyday lives influenced by the question of the animal. Chris (chapter 5) considers how contemporary American television, specifically the genre of wildlife documentary, is an unexpected vehicle for the construction of the human subject and humanity. She argues that the slapstick style humor of MTV’s Wildboyz tests not only the species barrier, but also destabilizes presumptive heterosexual subject positions by means of homoerotic play.¹⁸ Chris’s chapter can be productively read alongside her important book Watching Wildlife,¹⁹ which looks more broadly at the rise of now ubiquitous animal-oriented television (Animal Planet, Discovery Channel, National Geographic Channel, etc.), demonstrating the important and sometimes troubling work this programming does to shape questions of gender, race, and sexuality.

Michelle Superle (chapter 6) utilizes the treasure trove of reflection on humans and animals embedded in children’s literature to consider how discovering humanity through animality is a powerful tool deployed in children’s stories to address issues of family belonging, maturation, and self-transformation. Superle’s consideration of dog stories in particular suggests some fascinating ways in which literary animals and real animals interact, a theme that could be highlighted in a number of this volume’s other essays. Humans may imagine and produce animals as root others, but the real-life correlates of these imaginations exist independently and have agency that can impinge upon our lives.²⁰ The presence in our lives of real dogs as companions and our words about them work upon us in complex ways and, as Superle’s chapter shows, from an early age.

In a related manner, Ron Broglio (chapter 8) shows how artistic representations of farmed animals have played a role in the actual breeding of them, which, in turn, determines what kinds of animal agriculture will be possible. Going further, Broglio contrasts this objectifying, potentially violent representation of animals in nineteenth-century art with the contemporary efforts of many artists, most notably the collaborative artists known as Olly and Suzi (Olly Williams and Suzi Winstanley). Olly and Suzi are noteworthy for their attempts to use technology to safely paint large predators in the predators’ environment and while the predators are in close proximity—for example, quickly painting sharks while in underwater cages (the artists are in the cage, not the sharks). Olly and Suzi want to be forced to adapt to the animal’s environment rather than, as has been the norm, bringing the animal into the artist’s environment. In so doing, they hope to move beyond animal art that is produced only through an objectification of the animals depicted.

Much of this volume asks the reader to similarly work to break out of a traditional Western mode of looking at animals as objects. Just as Olly and Suzi seek to initiate new artistic traditions in which animals are no longer objects of the artist’s gaze, this volume aims to promote a new scholarly orientation in which animals can never be objects because they are already subjects who help make us who we are.

III. Animal Others: Theorizing Animal/Human

Part III contains four essays that examine some of the most penetrating and subtle thinkers to engage the question of the animal in the last century, principally Coetzee, Derrida, Haraway, and Heidegger. The central ideas and problems explored in these essays resonate throughout the volume and serve to sharpen the broader relevance of the preceding essays, each of which takes up a particular historical and spatial context.

Buchanan (chapter 9) and Pryor (chapter 10) critically engage the robust legacy of philosophical thought on animals that has emanated from Heidegger’s philosophical exploration of subjectivity. Since Heidegger’s work on animals has been a point of departure for Derrida (and for Agamben), a clear understanding of his work on animals, despite its sometimes disturbing features, is of special value. Drawing especially on Heidegger’s most extensive discussion of animals in The Fundamentals of Metaphysics, Buchanan carefully lays out the significance of Heidegger’s work on animals in the longer arc of Western thought from Aristotle to Descartes and presents a case for the productivity of Heidegger’s thought against its many critics. Finding Heideggerian thought productive but insufficient, Pryor utilizes the theoretical resources provided by Heidegger, particularly in his Parmenides Lecture Course, to develop a theorization of kindness as it arises in human relationships with companion animals. Working with the accessible example of interactions between dog, trainer, and owner on the popular National Geographic television show Dog Whisperer, Pryor provides a concrete demonstration of how she understands kindness and how this understanding can help us think about the fraught human/animal binary.

Sellbach (chapter 11), drawing especially on the rich resources provided by Coetzee, examines one of the most pervasive ways that Western thought has imagined the human in relation to animals: the drawing of analogies between the two. Sellbach both diagnoses the often problematic nature of these analogies and proposes alternative, more productive ways of metaphor making in dialogue with a range of thinkers, including Stanley Cavell, Lévinas and, most especially, Ludwig Wittgenstein.

Where Buchanan, Pryor, and Sellbach work to import thought from philosophy and literature into animal studies in order to sharpen our thinking about animals, Hird (chapter 12) works in a slightly different direction. Drawing on science fiction literature and a plethora of scientific studies, Hird challenges this volume’s focus on humans and other animals by highlighting the even more intimate entanglement of human life—indeed all life—with bacteria. Hird reflects on the ways in which all life is profoundly dependent on microorganisms: in its evolution, in the creation of environments in which life thrives, and even in the basic metabolic processes that sustain life. In light of this radical dependence, Hird invites us to consider an ethic of vulnerability, a vulnerability that unites the whole of the animal kingdom.

Absent Referents and the Post-Animal

One danger of scholarly work on animals, including the present one, is that it can function to render actual animals absent.²¹ The appearance of discussing animals can be given and words about animals can be spoken, but those words can be a misrepresentation or obfuscation of animals as we know them from empirical observation and common sense. It is to be expected that scholars in the humanities will often utilize attention to animals as a route to illumine aspects of humanity (which can make the animals themselves seem beside the point). The problem arises when this is the only way animals are discussed—when there is no one looking in the horse’s mouth or even in the direction of the horse. I raise these points here at the end of the introduction because this volume’s focus on human self-conception through animals could be deployed both to render animals absent and to make them present. I hope it will be the latter and that this volume will help in developing a critical stance whereby we begin to see when, how, and maybe why the transformation of animals into absent referents (beings made absent as they are being referenced) takes place. Such a critical stance would both illumine how we understand our own subjectivity and bring the subjectivities of animals into view.

This collection’s most immediate purpose is to advance scholarship in the narrow sense of that term. Our hope is that juxtaposing the essays contained here can be used as (1) an entry point into the many possibilities of animal studies both as an area of study and as a critical lens, and (2) a particular exploration of the shifting boundaries of human self-conception through animals. At the same time, we have selected essays that simultaneously (3) make contributions to their respective scholarly fields, not necessarily public policy. Nonetheless, there is a powerful way in which the kind of inquiries undertaken here are (4) a basic precondition for the more politicized act of making present and making policy.

To most fully make animals present we first need to understand how they are rendered absent. This inquiry has important implications for how we imagine ourselves as human beings (which is the focus of the present volume), but it also has profound and troubling implications for how we engage with the very real animals with whom we share our lives (as companions, food, workers, entertainment, and so on). We might want to understand, for example, how it has been acceptable to the American public that the nation’s only legislation regulating animal use in scientific experiments, the Animal Welfare Act (which had unusually high public support), does not, in fact, apply to the overwhelming majority of animals used in research. Similarly, we might want to understand how America’s only legislation regulating humane slaughter, the Humane Methods of Slaughter Act, similarly does not protect the overwhelming majority of animals slaughtered for food.²² However one evaluates these situations in terms of justice, they call out for scholarly analysis. Scholars in the human sciences are well placed to explain, describe, or interpret part of these curious situations, for example, by recounting the various political wranglings that produce legislation. The work of this volume points to a different, still-evolving set of tools that scholars might use to explain these odd legal situations or other troubled, curious, or simply strange aspects of human treatment of animals. This volume shows us that to articulate views about animals—for example, to announce protection of their welfare in research or insist on humaneness in their slaughter—is likely to be as much about how humans understand themselves as about the stated legislative aim of protecting animals. Humaneness blurs into humanness.

Animal others are always already involved in human self-conception. Policy makers, concerned citizens, and others with a stake in public debates about animals will simply fail to understand—and thus fail to most effectively impact—public policies regulating the treatment of animals if they do not take into account the kinds of deeper currents shaping discourse about animals documented here. In sum, to make animals present, we first need to gain some purchase on how animal others are imbedded in human self-conception—in the human imagination (the landscape of our mind) and the imagination of the human (how we imagine the meaning of humanity). Interdisciplinary work in animal studies has a crucial scholarly service to perform in this regard.

Today it is common enough, at least in the emerging scholarly literature on animals, to argue that we should not forget actual animals in our scholarly work. Insofar as this is a call to incorporate data from ethology (the study of animal behavior), neuroscience, or other empirical fields into the human sciences and insofar as this is a call to responsibility, I would not wish to challenge the call. That said, this volume casts doubt on just how easy it is to talk about actual animals or make them present. To fully engage the animals themselves it is not enough to simply consult an empirical study of animals, bring an animal into the classroom, or visit a farm. We would further, at very least, need to get outside of the human/animal binary. That would mean no longer to seek new—more effective or more authentic—articulations of the human and confronting what Agamben calls the central emptiness, the hiatus that—within man—separates man and animal, and to risk ourselves in this emptiness: the suspension of the suspension, Shabbat of both animal and man.²³ We would need to pause, put to rest, or surrender the categories animal and human. As Calarco emphasizes, "Any genuine encounter with what we call animals will occur only from within the space of this surrender. If there are any properly philosophical stakes in the field of animal studies, I would argue that they lie precisely here, in the clearing of the space for the event of what we call animals."²⁴

A final aim for this volume, then, is that by taking the reader on a tour, as it were, of the always already circle—by circling around the human tendency to self-conceptualize through animals in particular contexts—we might create a clearing where it is possible to see, and perhaps be seen, by those others that we all too quickly name animals. That is, we hope to contribute to the always ongoing human imagination of the others we call animals.

This volume, to condense it in a phrase, hopes to lead us toward what we might call a post-animal discussion of those beings we call animals. That is, attention to how a certain understanding of animality is implicit in our self understanding (and thus our understandings of language, symbol, myth, subjectivity, religion, etc.) can perhaps expose the naturalness of the category animal as illusory. Significantly, such a post-animal discourse would not be an aim in itself.

Achieving a post-animal discourse would be a kind of goal, a kind of end, but it is more importantly a beginning. The real prize lies in asking, What’s beyond the ‘post’?²⁵ In one sense we never can get beyond the ‘post.’ Adding this prefix to key categories (post-colonial, post-human, post-modern, etc.) is nothing other than the basic