Dowding and the Animals

Yesterday, 24th April, was World Day for Animals in Laboratories, a day for recalling, in case one had forgotten them, the hundreds of millions of animals put to use every year for science. It’s also a time for remembering again (and it is “again” for this blog) the remarkable man whose birthday was chosen as the proper date for such an occasion when it was first established in 1979, namely Hugh Dowding. This was the man who, in the early years of the Second World War, devised and directed the crucial defence of the U.K. during the Battle of Britain. A military hero, then, and certainly it’s in that character that he is now memorialized, as Air Chief Marshal Lord Dowding, outside the Church of St Clement Danes in the Strand, London: a towering uniform, with a text below it quite rightly reminding us that to this man “the people of Britain and of the Free World owe largely the way of life and the liberties they enjoy today.”

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In fact, like many distinguished soldiers, Dowding had no great admiration for the business of war, or for the sort of nation-state politics which create the conditions for it. And so far from resting content after the war as a British war-hero, he had his vision set on a far wider community even than the United Nations shakily represented, and a far more ambitious conception of what would constitute peace than even the U.N. had in mind. He told the House of Lords in 1952, “we shall never attain to true peace – the peace of love, and not the uneasy equilibrium of fear – until we recognize the place of animals in the scheme of things and treat them accordingly.”

The “scheme of things” which Dowding meant was one he wrote about in several books from 1942 onwards, the one rather loosely termed spiritualism. At the centre of spiritualism is the belief that life and death are not opposites but alternating states, in continuing contact with each other, leading each soul on a path towards perfection, “back to the ultimate source from which it originated”. I can’t speak with confidence about this; I don’t find it convincing or even appealing. But he did, and he was a man who had to hazard the lives of hundreds of young men, and answer for the violent deaths of very many of them, not just as a personal burden but in the literal sense of speaking to their families. One must feel respect and even awe for the conclusions, on the subject of life and death, of such a man.

Anyway, so far from the stealthy dabbling in posthumous domestic relationships which the word ‘spiritualism’ sometimes suggests, Dowding’s “scheme” was panoramically inclusive (as one might expect from an aviator). He felt a “life chain” joining all nature, “from the mineral through the vegetable and the animal to the human”. The animal part of it he became especially aware of under the influence of the woman he married in 1951 (at age 69), Muriel Albini. He became vegetarian, and was actively involved in her pioneering campaigns against the abuse of animals by the fur and cosmetics industries. He helped his wife to found and promote the pioneering charity and business Beauty Without Cruelty. And as a member of the House of Lords he now tried to get the legislature to take more notice of animal suffering.

The speeches which Dowding made during debates in the House of Lords between 1948 and 1965 – on ‘humane’ slaughter, the training of circus animals, the poisoning of ‘pest’ animals, and vivisection – are surely some of the most urgent and radical which that chamber has ever heard on the animal subject. Several of these debates were ones which he himself had initiated, and he was determined that his case should be shown to be, not sentimental (by which he meant uninformed and subjective), but “justified by the facts”. His preparations for the debates on vivisection, in particular, had “compelled me to read of many cases of revolting and sickening cruelty”, and he meant to make his fellow-peers, too, face this “traffic in flesh and blood”.

Therefore, he introduced to them, for instance, the “devilish device known as the Noble-Collip Drum”, then a quite new contrivance (and still used today) in which “the animal is very slowly battered to death”. He described the experiments on cats forced to breathe 100% oxygen at the Royal Naval Laboratory at Alverstoke, another wretched story of protracted execution. He spoke about the ‘siamesing’ of rats at Oxford University. This example of vivisection at Oxford (not the only one he instanced) had been reported to him by a doctor friend who had been allowed access to the laboratories of that university, of which the doctor was an alumnus: “What particularly struck him was the callous attitude of people who were otherwise normal, decent members of society; and also the absolute uselessness of some of the experiments.” Quizzed on this last point, the young scientist doing the siamesing had explained to the doctor what was useful about it: “It’s going to get me my degree.”

For the Cruelty to Animals Act of 1876, which at that time was still regulating all such research in the U.K., Dowding had little respect: “merely a sop to public conscience”, “the vivisectors’ charter”, its machinery of enforcement “futile and delusive”. In 1949 a man convicted under the Protection of Animals Act (1911) of starving his dog had been imprisoned for three months and banned for life from keeping dogs; in that same year the Journal of Physiology reported a long series of nutrition studies during which numbers of puppies had been similarly starved in order to produce diseases of deficiency. “Imprisonment for the amateur in cruelty; honours and rewards for the professional wholesaler,” commented DowdingIt was “a Cruelty to Animals Act in fact as well as in name.”

Of course, other speakers in these debates reassured Dowding that, Act or no Act, scientists could be trusted to do their research humanely, that they were, just like himself, “anxious to spare the animals as much suffering as possible”, and were even “enriched by their work in love and meekness”, whatever that could mean. Dowding took no notice of these complacencies, and he was contemptuous of the larger fiction associated with them, namely that Britain was a nation of animal-lovers: “we are not animal-lovers: we are sentimentalists about our animals”. 

By way of illustration, he spoke of a recent outcry about 300 monkeys suffocated, through carelessness, in a B.O.A.C van at Heathrow. This public indignation, which might well have been taken as good evidence of British concern for animals, Dowding turned inside out. More than 125,000 monkeys, he said, were coming through Heathrow every year: “Those 300 were the lucky monkeys: they experienced only about fifteen minutes of slow suffocation. What happened to the others? Here are some of their experiences …” Dowding then read out to the assembled lords a long list of the vivisection horrors endured by such monkeys. At the end of it he said, “Yet about all this there is no newspaper outcry”.

In fact the concept of the animal-lover, whether person or nation, was and is delusive and irrelevant. Dowding knew that it appealed mainly to people for whom animals have no real status of their own and so are quite properly dependent upon the interest and kindness of their superiors. Hence, of course, the preferential treatment, in the 1876 Act, of the particular human favourites, the dogs, cats, and horses: “pure sentimentality”, Dowding called that; “All warm-blooded animals feel pain and all are equally entitled to protection.”

When Dowding spoke about the spiritualist “scheme of things”, there must have been some comical unease in that 1950s House of Lords; containing as yet no women and no life-peers, it was probably even less of a ‘new age’ scene than it is now. He did admit that his speeches had sometimes sounded “rather like a sermon”. But whether one shares his beliefs or not, it’s an education to see how they raised this apparently conventional Englishman far above his fellow-peers in ethical vision, simply by convincing him of the unity of life. Against their moral job-lot of sentiment, custom, selfishness, and improvised kindness, he brought his serene absolute (“I speak of what I know”) that “all life is one”, and all living creatures “brothers and sisters”. And even when pressing for the modest particular reforms which were all he could hope politically to achieve, he always kept that larger and revolutionary truth in open view, proportioning all those timid mitigations of wrong: thus, when he argued for the captive bolt gun and the casting-pen in slaughterhouses, he nevertheless told the Lords, “sooner or later, the time will come when we shall regard the eating of animal flesh as we now regard cannibalism.”

Of course one does not have to come at this great truth that “all life is one” by the spiritualist way that Dowding followed. There are many other ways to discern and represent what is, after all, at its minimum a worldly fact: from Albert Schweitzer’s existentialist ‘reverence for life’, through Charles Darwin’s science of evolution, down to the single word ‘speciesism’ with which Richard Ryder nailed its delusory opposite. (That Darwin’s way, the most matter-of-fact, the most patently fitted to the understanding of a materialist society, has in practice done so little good for the animals, is sad evidence of the littleness of our scientific culture.) As the arguments about Britain’s relationship with the rest of Europe continue, we need to remind ourselves that there is only one stable and non-arbitrary collective, which did not need arguing into existence and cannot be debated out of it, and to which we unalterably belong, namely the animal kingdom (etymologically ’kin’-dom). This is the one which Hugh Dowding, having rescued the merely provisional and historical kingdom of Britain, went on to serve without reservations for the remainder of his life and, as he hoped and believed, far beyond. Yes, a hero, who deserves our continuing remembrance and gratitude.

 

Notes and references:

The statue of Hugh Dowding, by Faith Winter, was erected in 1988. The photograph is by René and Peter van der Krogt (http://statues.vanderkrogt.net).

All the quotations above are taken from Hansard debates in which Dowding spoke: these took place on the subject of vivisection in October 1952 and July 1957, and on the other subjects in March and May 1948, Feb 49, Nov 50, Oct 53, June 54, Jan 56, Dec 57, May 58, Dec 62, and Feb 65. They can be read online at http://www.parliament.uk/business/publications/hansard/lords/ .

Dowding’s work on behalf of laboratory animals is remembered in the Lord Dowding Fund for Humane Research (established in 1974 by the National Anti-Vivisection Society), as well as on World Day for Animals in Laboratories.

This year’s WDAIL in the U.K. will be marked, among other ways, by a rally in Nottingham on Saturday 28th (meeting in Market Square at 12 noon): for more information, see https://www.facebook.com/events/817860415062877/

This account of Hugh Dowding is a revised version of one posted in the VERO blog on 26 June, 2016.

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A Record-breaking Year’s Work in the Lab

The numerical details of Oxford University’s animal research in 2017 have now been made public. Here is a selection, showing the numbers for each species (with 2016 for comparison), and then the severity of the ‘procedures’ involved. A few comments follow the two tables.

 Total number of experimental procedures, by species:

 Species  Number in 2017  Number in 2016
 Mice      229,640      200,157
 Fishes          3,852        14,737
 Rats          2,599         2,174
 Junglefowl               21            291
 Frogs            155           226
 Guinea Pigs              80             81
 Badgers              39             60
 Pigs               5              0
 Ferrets             29            29
 Non-Human Primates               7              8
 Rabbits               2              2
 Total:    236,429   217,765

 

Severity of procedures by species (where moderate or above was recorded):

Species  Severe  Moderate  Mild  Sub-threshold  Non-recovery
 Mice  2,085  38,177  65,063       121,487       2,828
 Fishes     100       950    2,246           9,890            19
 Rats      17       787       403              772          620
 Ferrets      0        19         0                 0           10
Non-Human Primates      0          7         0                 0            2

 The total number: 236,429 represents a rise of 8.5% over the previous year. It’s the largest number of research procedures recorded at the University since the new laboratory was opened in 2007, a year for which the number was 155,901. Almost certainly it’s the largest ever recorded at Oxford under the vivisection law of 1986, but numbers before 2007 aren’t obtainable.

Meaning of ‘procedure’: Remember that this word, in the singular, really means ‘at least one procedure’: for a review of its ambiguity, making a sort of nonsense all these careful numerations, see an earlier post in this blog, at https://voiceforethicalresearchatoxford.wordpress.com/2016/08/01/home-office-statistics-numbers-words-and-euphemisms/ .  More reliably the numbers should simply be understood as a count of the animals experimented on and (in all but a handful of cases) killed during the year.

Openness: Although the numbers are quite candidly published on the University’s web-site (as required by the Concordat on Openness on Animal Research, to which the University is a signatory), they are not exactly out in the open. They appear suddenly far down in the middle of the University’s standard account, ‘Research using animals: an overview’, itself a sub-division of the introductory page, ‘Animal Research’. By that point, the diligent reader will have been softened up with no less than three appearances of some variant of the statement “There is overwhelming scientific consensus worldwide that some research using animals is still essential for medical progress.” The idea, I suppose, is that he or she will be well prepared to regard the numbers, when they come, as the essential minimum.

Up or down: Accordingly there is no comment on the high-point which this year’s numbers represent, or indeed any comparison with any other year (VERO has added the comparison with 2016). On the contrary, the extended vindication of animal research in which they’re embedded includes the bewildering statement, “New techniques have dramatically reduced the number of animals needed – the number has almost halved over the last 30 years.” As I say, we don’t have Oxford University’s numbers before 2007, but in Great Britain as a whole, the number in 1987 was about 3.6 million. This number, so far from being “almost halved” since then, has in fact been exceeded in every year since 2010 (the number for 2016 was 3.94 million). But just in case we should interpret this rash assertion as conciliatory in spirit, it’s followed in the same sentence with yet a fourth appearance of the familiar refrain: “… but there is overwhelming scientific consensus worldwide that some research using animals is still essential for medical progress.”

Animals killed without experiments: There’s one valuable innovation this year: a number is provided for the animals bred and killed without being used in ‘procedures’. It’s a number which the Home Office doesn’t ask research institutions for, but ought to. Oxford’s total for the mice, rats, frogs, and zebrafishes which are bred in the University’s laboratories was 35,777.

Non-compliance and the 3Rs: The previous post in this blog was about the policing of the 1986 Act, and the 45 instances of non-compliance in 2016. Two of those instances took place in Oxford’s laboratories. This we learn from the annual report of the University’s Animal Care and Ethical Review Committee (published at the end of 2017), but not in enough detail to know which two they were. The report is a very general summary of the University’s ethical control of animal research, in particular its promotion of the 3Rs (replacement, reduction, refinement). The numbers given above don’t seem a very apt illustration of this activity, sincere as I’m sure it is. But then neither the ACER report, nor even the annual numbers, provide much insight into the attitudes, practices, or animal experiences which really characterize the laboratory scene at Oxford. Everything published about it is PR or PR-minded; the thing itself remains, for outsiders, hard or impossible to see.

Severity: As to the figures for ‘severity’ given above, and what these imply, see Note 4 in last year’s equivalent of this post here: https://voiceforethicalresearchatoxford.wordpress.com/2017/03/27/for-we-are-many/ In fact all of that post, and the previous year’s too (24 April 2016), remain disappointingly up to date. Very little has changed in the world of laboratory OU primateanimals, least of all the commitment of Oxford University practitioners to its continuation. As ever, then, the rhesus macaque monkey looks out through the glass darkly, as we likewise look in.

 

Notes and references:

The University’s animal-research web pages can be found at http://www.ox.ac.uk/news-and-events/animal-research. The report of the ACER Committee is published in the Oxford University Gazette, issue no. 5189, 7 December 2016. It can be read here: https://www.ox.ac.uk/gazette/2017-2018/7december2017-no5189/notices/#263551

The photograph of the rhesus macaque in the Biomedical Sciences Building appears on the University’s own web-site, I don’t know why, and is used here by permission.