Brothers and Cousins

Statistics of the animal research done in Britain during 2016 have now been published. They show a decrease of about 5% or 206,000 in the annual total of ‘procedures’ (down, but not very far down, to 3.94 million). The Home Office press release announcing the statistics was headed with that notable news – notable not so much because the achievement is very great (after all, the 2015 figure had been the highest number of ‘procedures’ ever recorded), but because it represents only the second time in about fifteen years that the numbers have not gone up. And the total in 2016 is still larger than it was in 1986, when the present Animals (Scientific Procedures) Act was introduced with the aim and expectation (for a time actually realised) of pushing the numbers steadily down.

Now is a good moment to recall that aim, because the European Union’s Directive 2010/63, which has been co-ordinating the laws on animal research in all 28 member states, is about to be revised. Although the U.K. will probably not belong to the Union by the time any revisions come into effect, its own practice will certainly be influenced by them. In fact, because science is an internationally collaborative business, published in international journals, the rules and standards established in the Union are certain to have some influence in all countries where animals are used in research.

Article 58 of the Directive requires the European Commission (the E.U.’s executive) to “review” its contents no later than 10 November 2017. In doing so, the Commission must take into account “advancements in the development of alternative methods not entailing the use of animals, in particular of non-human primates”. Specifying OU primateprimates in this way, the Directive’s authors no doubt had in mind a ‘declaration’ which the European Parliament had adopted back in 2007, urging the Commission “to establish a timetable for replacing the use of all primates in scientific experiments with alternatives”. Anyway, by way of limbering up for the review, the Commission asked one of its advisory committees, the Science Committee on Health, Environmental and Emerging Risks (SCHEER), to set up a Working Group to study and report on “the need for non-human primates in biomedical research, production and testing of products and devices”. Under this same title, with its ready-made implication that such a need really does exist, SCHEER accordingly published its conclusions (formally an ‘Opinion’) a few weeks ago. These conclusions, on such an especially controversial aspect of animal research, may be taken as indicative of what animals have to hope for from the coming review.

We’re deep inside the E.U. machine here: a working group reporting to a standing committee commissioned to advise the executive on the revision of a parliamentary directive setting the parameters for (and here we at last come out into the open) actual laws in the 28 member states. And the advice itself frequently does have a machine-generated feel to it, of truth made out of words rather than real things, and all the more conveniently incontrovertible for that. “It is indeed important to consider the limitations of the NHP when choosing which species to use in a drug-safety test: the use of an appropriate species or combination of species/models is essential to obtaining the most reliable and translatable information.”[p.63] Has anything been said here that isn’t necessarily true? Is anyone arguing, for instance, that an inappropriate species would produce more reliable information? This key word ‘appropriate’, with its built-in wisdom, is much used in the authors’ proposals: “appropriate training”“appropriate standards”, and of course “appropriate use of NHPs”.

Another such passe-partout word is ‘robust’: the authors variously recommend “robust scrutiny”, “robust peer review procedures”, “robust study design”, and so on. One wonders why scientists hadn’t thought of the great merits of robustness before. Anyway, everything will surely be better in this robust and appropriate new world.

But not very much better. Distinctly this is a technical account of the subject: how to make things as they are work properly (the machine again). There are some good suggestions to that end, certainly. For instance the authors recognize, as one of the barriers to progress in animal-free research, the weight of professional habit and institutionalized practice; they advise that training courses for animal researchers should include “non-animal technologies”, so that transition is easier and more acceptable [p.64]. Also I must concede that, for all the tautologies and self-evident truths, there’s a 12-page bibliography to back up what the committee says. But the rationale for all this attention, why it matters whether there’s a ‘need’ for NHPs in science or not – in short, the morality of it – is almost untouched. Two pages (out of 66 in the main text) make a hurried tour of the topic, though it is of course alluded to from time to time elsewhere. But then all members of the Working Group were scientists. Accordingly, the page headed ‘Minority Opinion’, which looks rather promising with the whole of page 23 to itself in the table of contents, proves, when one reaches it, to be blank, apart from the word “None”.

The committee recognises, as a political fact, that “polls of the European public repeatedly show low levels of acceptance of the use of NHPs in research” [p.24]. Approval for the use of NHPs in the U.K., for instance, was about 17% when last canvassed (see, in this blog, ‘Animal Pains and Human Attitudes: the new Ipsos Mori survey’, 26 September 2016). However, there is at least “greater acceptance of animal research where animal use and suffering are minimised in line with the 3Rs principle” [i.e. Replacement, Reduction, Refinement: p.25]. This is no doubt true, although it’s a somewhat disingenuous way of putting things: where acceptance has not been ‘great’ in the first place, it shouldn’t really be said to become “greater”. And I suspect that approval would actually have been even lower if the respondents had known, as this SCHEER report records, that nearly three quarters of ‘procedures’ conducted on NHPs in the E.U. are for “regulatory use and routine production” [p.15].

What these quotations illustrate is how the “3Rs principle” is seen by scientists as a sort of ethical machine labouring away to turn expediency into good conduct, rather as the “invisible hand” of the free market was supposed by Adam Smith to convert self-interested actions into social good. In this capacity, it’s expected to satisfy or at least placate opponents of animal research. That it does not do so, and that the whole managerial attitude to “ethical considerations” understates their seriousness, is evident in the consultation document which is published alongside the SCHEER report (but which came before it in time, of course).

I must say that this 234-page consultation document is conspicuous proof at least of the diligence and fair-mindedness of the committee, which here records in the left-hand column, and replies to in the right, hundreds of queries and comments. It wasn’t in the committee’s remit to deal with ethics except as a general premise, but at least the moral passion is now allowed printed expression in raw, ungentrified form: “cruel”, “inhuman”, “abhorrent”, “nearest cousins”, “brothers”, “freedom”. True, the committee makes little attempt to address this sort of complaint (there being plenty of other more strictly scientific representations). “Stop this insane abuse!!” says one contribution (well yes, two exclamation marks, but then, as the great Aneurin Bevan used to say, “In public life, those who would change things must shout to be heard”). To such, the committee can only reply with a slightly pompous set formula: “This is a personal opinion. The comment does not provide any suggestions for improvements of the scientific basis of the SCHEER preliminary Opinion and/or any scientific evidence.” Still, such remonstrations, earnest and unscientific, are at least recorded here. Thank you to those who did speak up with this authentic human indignation.

When it issued its previous ‘opinion’ on animal research, just prior to the making of the 2010 Directive, this same science committee was called SCHER. The second ‘E’, recently added, stands for ‘emerging’, and refers to novel or reappearing infectious diseases. It’s an ominous alteration for NHPs, because this is one of the areas of research in which the committee, so far from sketching out a diminution in their use, foresees an increase. NHPs, so SCHEER claims, “provide essential models for understanding and combatting (re)emerging infectious pathogens.” Thus, for recent research into whooping cough, “a new baboon model was developed” [p.47]. That rather euphemistic phrase actually means that research was conducted, for the first time, on juvenile baboons (from two to six months old): the opposite of the 3Rs, then. SCHEER justifies such retrogressions by speaking of “realistic dangers” [p.47]. Danger, which might properly be seen as a test and validation of our ethics, is evidently expected to frighten them away. And after all, even the great apes (gorillas, chimpanzees, orangutans, bonobos), whom the E.U. Directive in principle protects absolutely from scientific exploitation, may be used “in relation to an unexpected outbreak of a life-threatening or debilitating clinical condition in human beings” [Article 55.2].

So, shall a timetable be drawn up for ending the use of NHPs in European research, as the E.U. Parliament was dreaming ten years ago? SCHEER’s 12,000 word answer resembles the one being given in a famous Saul Steinberg cartoon from 1961. A well-fed manager of some sort, comfortably leaning back at his desk, addresses a petitioner with a mass of words, illegible but obviously full of patronizing civilities and bureaucratic reassurances. The words coalesce, above the petitioner’s head, into a giant ‘NO’.


Notes and references:

The 2016 statistics can be viewed here:

These new statistics record about 3,600 procedures using NHPs. The SCHEER report uses the all-E.U. figure of 8898, which was the total in 2014. Note that the Home Office numbers don’t include Northern Ireland: i.e. they cover animal research in Great Britain rather than the U.K.

The 2007 Declaration of the European Parliament on primates in scientific experiments is published online at

The SCHEER report is at

The results of the public consultation are published at

Aneurin Bevan is quoted in Michael Foot, Loyalists and Loners, Collins, 1987, p.36. Among other political achievements, Bevan was the Minister of Health from 1945 to 1951, therefore the man responsible for establishing the U.K.’s National Health Service.

The photograph is of a rhesus macaque monkey in Oxford University’s Biomedical Sciences Building, and is used here by permission of the University’s Public Affairs Office.





For We Are Many

Here are the 2016 animal-research numbers submitted by Oxford University to the Home Office. The selection and arrangement is by VERO, with some earlier numbers for comparison, and some notes and comments to follow:

Totals of animals used in research, by species:

Species Number used in 2015 Number used in 2016
Mice 207,216 200,157
Zebrafish   16,061  14,737
Rats    2,363    2,174
Junglefowl         53       291
Frogs       322       226
Guinea Pigs         81        81
Badgers        66        60
Pigs        10         0
Ferrets        38       29
Non-Human Primates          4         8
Rabbits          2         2
Total: 226,216 217,765
  1. Direction of travel: You’ll notice that there has been a fall of 3 or 4% (8,451 animals) from the 2015 total: a welcome reduction, but although these annual numbers do sometimes show a fall, the consistent trend is still upwards – by about 45% over the last ten years (while the all-U.K. numbers rose by about 33%).
  1. The 3Rs: The annual report of the University’s Animal Care and Ethical Review Committee talks a lot about the 3Rs (reduction, refinement, and replacement) as obligations imposed on researchers by law and by the University’s own Animal Use Policy. There’s now, for instance, an annual ‘3Rs Research Day’ in the University. Good! Yet the numbers continue to rise. No doubt research in the life sciences as a whole has increased during the same period, at Oxford and nationally, and animal research may be a shrinking proportion of the total. It’s certainly not shrinking in any other sense. Back in 2014, the one minister responsible for animal research who has ever shown a strong interest in making the numbers shrink, Norman Baker, set up a review of Section 24 – the ‘secrecy clause’ in the Animals (Scientific Procedures) Act. He gave as one of the reasons for removing it the hope that doing so might “increase awareness among the scientific community of current research … minimising the potential for duplication of animal experiments”. And he said “I am fully committed to making a change.” Two and a half years on, that review, and the consultation with “stakeholders” which was part of it, is still being mulled over by the government. According to the present minister, the horse-racing enthusiast Ben Wallace, “a response will be published in due course.”
  1. Ethics by numbers: When I was a child, I had a book about a duck who periodically counted up her offspring using the formula “one, two, three, a lot.” The story showed the hazards of her arithmetic, but recognized also its psychological truth. What can one feel about these giant numbers, year after year? They seem expressive in inverse proportion to their size. Those two rabbits, for instance: two each year (in fact two also in 2014). One wonders at once what kept happening to these couples. (Answer: two rabbits, plus the 81 guinea pigs, have been used each year for training in animal-research skills, a sort of target practice.) But putting aside the psychology of the matter, it’s undoubtedly true that, because the basic unit, the ‘procedure’, is itself so nebulous, our ignorance must actually increase with the numbers. (This problem is aired in a former post, at Conversely, we will only know for certain what’s happening when the numbers fall to nought, which by happy coincidence is also the unique ethical number in this matter.

Next, some records of the levels of suffering implied in those figures above:

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

Species Severe Moderate Mild Sub-threshold Non-recovery
Mice 1,420  39,015 61,382          94,617       3,723
Zebrafish   560   1,076   3,154            9,890           57
Rats    42      531      465              479         657
Ferrets      0        18         0                 0           11
Non-Human Primates      0          8         0                 0            0

Severity of procedures by category in the years 2014

Year Severe Moderate Mild Sub-Threshold Non-Recovery
2014 1,533 31,494 110,429      76,083 7,146
2015 2,325 30,683 120,323      66,808 6,077
2016 2,022 40,648   65,591     104,988 4,516
  1. Defining the terms: These numbers do have a more reliable meaning, since the severity categories are quite carefully defined in Home Office guidance, as to both intensity and duration. ‘Moderate’, for instance: into this category would come “chronic low-level pain or discomfort or dysfunction”, signalled by “significant weight-loss or other indicators of poor welfare”, or pain of “significant intensity, but … of no more than a few hours duration”. Even cases where the animal shows “signs of obvious illness” (“piloerection, huddled posture, reluctance to move, isolation from the group”) may be classed as ‘moderate’, provided that “this is promptly detected and animals are killed immediately”, by which is meant within 24 hours. The ‘severe’ category “would include any state that a person would find difficult to tolerate, or disease where clinical signs have progressed to such an extent that it threatens the life of an animals”, or “any situation where animals are in extremis. Ah, happy days in the lab!
  1. The primates: The proportion of procedures which come into the two categories so evocatively described above has increased at Oxford University from about 14.5% in 2014 and 2015 to about 19.5% in 2016. That may be chance fluctuation, but you’ll OU primatenotice that all the experiments with non-human primates appear in this group. I don’t think that one would have deduced that from the account provided on the University’s web-site of the merry lives of games and conviviality which these close relatives of ours enjoy in their “world class facilities”. But then even their deaths are presented as a sort of kindly intervention, by means of the prize euphemism and philosophical conundrum already noted elsewhere in this blog: “At the end of its life the animal is humanely killed.”
  1. A few other numbers: During the year as covered by the report of the University’s Animal Care and Ethical Review Committee, 1318 members of the University held animal-research licences and there were 156 research projects using animals. In both cases, the numbers have gone up slightly on the previous year. Home Office inspectors made 24 unannounced visits. They found no fault with the facilities, but “there were non-compliance issues in relation to three project licences”. These were dealt with “administratively”, which I suppose means put right without further penalty.


Notes and references:

The University’s animal-research web pages can be found at The latest numbers haven’t yet been posted there at time of writing, but no doubt soon will be, alongside much other information – the whole presentation having been greatly improved as to information and frequency of updating. VERO has the numbers now by courtesy of the secretary to the Animal Care and Ethical Review Committee. The reports of that Committee are published in the Oxford University Gazette, the 2015-16 report in issue no. 5153, 8 December 2016.

The quotation from Norman Baker appears in the foreword which he wrote to the consultation document, which can be read at quotation from Ben Wallace is from correspondence in October 2016.

The details of severity banding come from Advisory notes on recording and reporting the actual severity of regulated procedures, published by the Home Office, 1 Jan 2014, pp.12-13.

The photograph is of a rhesus macaque monkey in the Biomedical Sciences Building, and is used here by courtesy of the University’s Public Affairs Office. Rather puzzlingly, this mournful picture appears as an illustration to the favourable account of life in the South Parks Road monkey community given on the University’s own News and Events web-pages.



Animal Pains and Human Attitudes: the new Ipsos MORI survey

Another spectacular show of numbers has just been put out on the subject of vivisection, this time by the government’s Department for Business, Energy and Industrial Strategy. The new numbers aren’t about the supposed facts of the matter, which is Home Office business (see post for 1st August). They’re aimed instead at charting ideas and opinions sri-public-attitudes-to-animal-research-2016.jpgabout the facts. This may explain why the pictorial motifs on the cover of Ipsos MORI’s report, Public Attitudes to Animal Research in 2016, include no animals – otherwise a rather curious absence. The stylized ‘isotype’ images of test-tubes, helices, etc. may be there to make the point: it’s all in the mind – at least, in the minds of the 987 individuals interviewed for this survey.

And some of the ideas and opinions are certainly quite a way from the real thing. For instance, many of the respondents believed that vivisection was wholly or mainly illegal: in fact the percentage of those who knew that any one of the particular varieties of vivisection (medical research, testing drugs, testing chemicals, etc.) was lawful never exceeded 50% [p.11]. This is a bewildering figure. The authors make no comment on it, though you’d think that it affected all the rest of the survey, perhaps even subverted it. Commendably, 24 % of respondents did realize that they were “not at all informed” about animal research. 1% didn’t like to go even that far; they preferred to say that they didn’t know whether they were at all informed or not [p.25].

I’m certainly not meaning to make fun of their doubts or ignorance. How can we tell what we really know of this secluded activity, unless we’re actually practitioners? As a later question shows [p.34], there’s a wise distrust of the available sources of information. Laboratory vets get the highest rate of trust at 41%, then universities, then ‘animal protection organisations’ with 33%, fading on down at the far end to ‘organisations that support the use of animals in research’ (e.g. Understanding Animal Research) with their 8%, and politicians on 6%. Businesses selling the products of animal research come bottom with 4%. And the most commonly chosen characterization of the institutions which practise animal research was “They are secretive” [p.17]. The wonder is, then, that so much was elicited in the way of laboriously calibrated opinion on a subject which, after all, most people would be happier not thinking about at all.

As I’ve said, the survey is based on interviews with only 987 adults, the results being weighted to match the social make-up of the U.K. population as a whole. This may not seem a persuasive number (it certainly doesn’t to me), but presumably the statisticians at Ipsos MORI know what they’re doing. And anyway this survey is only the latest in a series conducted over several years, and although the surveys have not all been identically designed and worded, some of their results are cumulatively consistent in a very convincing way.

Most important of them is the acceptability or otherwise of animal research, the fundamental question with which this 2016 survey very reasonably starts its own summary:

A majority (65%) say they can accept the use of animals in research as long as it is for medical purposes and there is no alternative – down (but not statistically significantly) from 68 per cent in 2014. [p.1]

The equivalent number for 2012 was 66%. That in turn represented a fall from 76% in 2010. It was this fall which prompted a sudden PR effort on the part of the vivisection industry, specifically the portentous ‘Concordat on Openness on Animal Research’ of that year. These subsequent numbers, 66, 68, 65 – none of them showing what Ipsos MORI regards as a statistically significant change – suggest that nothing much has come of that PR push. And we’ve already seen how far the “openness” has been trusted by the public, or by 987 representatives of it. But note that these percentages comprise support for the use of animals in medical research only. There is no majority at all for the real present situation, where medical research forms just one part of the great U.K. vivisection scene. Only 39% of respondents are said to be happy with that scene as a whole [p.5], assuming they know what it is. Even this number is precarious, as we’ll see later.

Meanwhile, the numbers opposing animal research for ethical reasons has grown from 30% in 2010 to 32% in both 2012 and 2014, and 35% this year. Those wishing the government to ban it outright have grown in that same period from 17% to 26%. The survey chops up these numbers by age, gender, class, ethnicity, even newspaper readership. For instance, this last category of outright abolitionists rises to 37% among women aged 15-34. That’s a finding which anyone involved in the animal rights movement would easily recognise – and be both moved and encouraged by. In fact the survey is at its most readable and illuminating in these social details, mystifying and almost nonsensical as some of them are.

But the most striking results of all in this 2016 survey arise from the questions about particular animal species [pp.8-10]. Here the respondents are invited to think about vivisection not in the abstract terms illustrated on the report cover, but in terms of imageable animals. This is the form of the question:

which, if any, types of animals do you think it is acceptable to use for .. medical research to benefit people / research into animal health / environmental research?

And now there is no majority in favour of any variety of animal research. The nearest to it is for medical research using rats (48% approval) or mice (47%). Approval for the use of fish (a growing category in vivisection, notably at Oxford University) scores only 23%, rising to 27% if the research is said to be for “animal health” (for which fraudulent term, see the post on 14 August). In the case of pigs, it’s 25% and 27%; for frogs and other amphibians it’s 22% and 26%. For none of the other species is there an approval rating of even 25%. Where the purpose is ‘environmental’ (testing the effects of chemicals in the food chain, etc., a very busy department of vivisection), the approval rate for all the species is consistently lower. Finally, those who think “any/all animals” may properly be used in any of the varieties of research comprise just 1% (one per cent) of the 987 respondents.

What? I’ve stared carefully at this chart, which has a pleasant sky-blue colouring scheme, and as far as I can understand it this 1% does indeed finally represent the number of people who, when obliged to think it through, still approve unconditionally of vivisection as regulated by the 1986 Animals (Scientific Procedures) Act. Can that be right? I’d be glad of further advice.

Anyway, here is the Ipsos MORI comment on these particular numbers:  “Public views broadly align with statistics on the actual use of animal species in research”. That’s a curiously upbeat, even disingenuous, interpretation. It would be more exact to say that public views are remarkably dis-aligned from actual use in the case of every animal species, never rising to a majority in favour, but that they’re especially opposed to the use of the ones that U.K. scientists exploit only in their hundreds or thousands, rather than in their millions.

So you see what happens to that first figure of 65% when real animals, or at least real species, are brought into the picture, as they conspicuously aren’t on the report’s cover. In fact that cover design is a helpful reminder of how much the public discussion of animal research is done in generalisations and abstractions which actually keep our minds off the real thing. Effectively they’re euphemisms. Even numbers, for all their factual appearance, have this effect; once they exceed picturable quantities, they simply cloud the view. Charts and tables beguile the attention even more efficiently (the Ipsos MORI ones are multi-coloured, and very nice to look at). Even the division by species is largely a mental imputation, managing animals into great uniformed cohorts which obscure their individual beings. And yet these individual beings are the only forms in which any pain and privation can be felt. They are therefore the sole reason for all the statistics and surveys which so diligently conceal them.

But that’s not, I guess, how politicians, scientists, and civil servants see it. For them, the statistics, etc., are there to address the human question: what animal suffering is “acceptable” to humans?  Their subject is the human politics of vivisection. After all, being animals ourselves, we already know what the animals think about their suffering. It’s what we think about it that matters. It would simply confuse the issue, then, to have them cluttering up that cover.


The Ipsos MORI survey can be read at https://www.ipsos .


Home Office statistics: numbers, words, and euphemisms

The Home Office has now published its statistical report on the animal research done in Great Britain (i.e. omitting Northern Ireland) during 2015. It shows that 4.14 million ‘procedures’ were completed last year. This is the largest number ever recorded under the 1986 Act, and tends to confirm that the promising drop in the numbers during 2014 (3.87 million) was the result of under-reporting in that year, rather than a sudden change of direction. The new system had just been introduced, whereby the research projects are counted when they finish rather than when they begin, and not everyone seems to have understood it. So the Home Office advises that the new figures should be compared with 2013 rather than 2014 (for VERO’s comment on the 2014 figures, see In that case, there has been a slight increase of 1% or 21 thousand in these ‘procedures’. This in turn means that the real numbers have been rising in every year since 2001, except 2009, which came after a notable jump the year before. During this whole period, the numbers have increased by about 58%.

This new Home Office report makes an exhaustive summary of every countable aspect of the nation’s work as vivisector in 2015. Its own two-page précis can be found at There are other useful and more critical summaries to be found on the web-sites of the Fund for the Replacement of Animals in Medical Experiments and Cruelty Free International. These notice, for instance, the rise in numbers of primates used in research (from 3,220 to 3,600), and the continuing use of dogs in toxicology studies, one of the most unpleasant areas of research. There’s also a review on the web-site of Understanding Animal Research, which is the promotional arm of the animal research industry. At the end of it the Chief Executive, Dr Wendy Jarrett, is quoted as saying “today’s statistics will help people to find out more about the reality of animal research in the 21st century.”

Yes, on the face of it the statistics ought to help in that way, but I doubt that they will help much. Quite apart from the varying interpretations which statistics notoriously allow, they address a part of the mind (the numerate) which is completely unrelated to the part where ethics or empathy live. What can one feel about this great torrent of numbers? It’s a crowd scene with no foreground. Every now and then, a detail will catch the dazzled attention. For instance, under the category ‘regulatory testing’ (p.49), the astonishing fact emerges that the LD50 and LC50 tests (= the Lethal Dose or Lethal Concentration that kills 50% of the test animals) are still in use. These true products of the mind as computer, giving a specious accuracy to toxicology tests at the cost of human decency, accounted for 8898 animals in 2015 (mice, rats, and fish).

Nearby, now that one’s eye is adjusted to such detail, it seems that something very like the Draize test (listed as “eye irritation/corrosion”) also survives: 173 rabbits went that way. But what: only 173? In most of the categories, that number would simply have disappeared in the ‘rounding down’ of untidy decimals (see User Guide to Annual Statistics, pp.9-10). On the other hand, you’d certainly hate to see the test done to a rabbit you knew, and you’d be quite properly liable to prosecution for cruelty if you did it yourself. And by the way, that’s a useful reminder that the Home Office is wrong to define the Animals (Scientific Procedures) Act in its preamble as “an animal protection measure” (p.5): the Act is also, and much more successfully, an animal-user’s protection measure.

Anyway, such details as the ones mentioned are generally invisible in the glare of the huge numbers. The whole dazzling parade of facts, so competently put together by the Home Office’s statisticians, is therefore a kind of euphemism, tending as much to hide as to show the “reality of animal research in the 21st century”.

A rather more informative source, and a necessary complement to the Annual Statistics, are the ‘non-technical summaries’ of proposed research which the Home Office also publishes (at There you can see the research in detail, admittedly as presented by its partisans, but in the format required by the Home Office, with answers to questions about purpose, method, the 3Rs, and so on. The animals appear in more comprehensible numbers (150 pigs, 200 chickens), and their kind is more accurately identified (crows, rainbow trout, opossums, voles). What happens to them is more or less picturable, and the scene can be bloody and squalid, even where no suffering is involved: “In parallel to in vivo experiments, we will also carry out in vitro experiments using sheep uteri and ovaries collected from an abattoir” [God, what have we become?]. You get some idea of how scientists may have judged the pain levels which are later to be recorded in the statistics: “The expected adverse effects are the development of skin wounds, inflammation and cancer. In most cases the severity will be mild. However, in some situations, such as tumour development, the severity will be moderate.” [Excellent! Cancer is evidently not as bad as we feared.]

And now, with these and other Home Office publications about animal research to hand, you begin to realize that the word ‘procedure’, the key word in the Animals (Scientific Procedures) Act (ASPA) and the one on which you have to rely if the statistics are to make any sense, is itself a euphemism. Having myself been misled by this word, I shall try to show what’s wrong with it.

For the purposes of the Act, a “regulated procedure” is defined (see the User Guide, p.10) as “any procedure applied to a protected animal for an experimental or other scientific purpose, or for any educational purpose, that may have the effect of causing an animal pain, suffering, distress or lasting harm equivalent to, or higher than, that caused by the introduction of a needle in accordance with good veterinary practice.” The breeding of a genetically altered (GA) animal is quite properly counted as one such procedure under the Act, and we’re told in the 2-page summary that about half of those 4.14 million procedures “related to the creation/breeding of genetically altered animals that were not used in further procedures.” That seems to make good sense. The breeding would be one procedure. Those GA animals for whom that turned out not to be a sufficient contribution to science would become part of other (“further”) procedures, counted as such.

But in fact we know that this isn’t what’s being done. It would mean that there’d be many more procedures than animals in the total count, whereas we’re specifically told that the two numbers are always more or less the same, and that in the rare cases where the number of procedures is higher than the number of animals used “this is due to a re-use of animals” (User Guide, p.9). ‘Re-use’ is a term always meaning ‘used in a different project of research’, which is actually by no means a common practice. And for this purpose, GA breeding apparently doesn’t count as a different project. So the real situation is this: animals which have undergone the GA procedure, and are then used in “further procedures”, still count for only one procedure each.

All right, but even apart from the GA question, ‘procedure’ has a very elastic meaning, which seems to include its own plural. It may just mean an injection, such as the one which is the model for what minimally constitutes a regulated procedure as defined in the Act. On the other hand, it can mean a whole “series of regulated procedures”: that’s the phrase which the Home Office Use, Keeping Alive, and Re-use Advice Note (p.9) uses when reviewing the experience of an animal during one research project, and advising on its suitability for ‘re-use’. The User Guide explains (also p.9): “Each procedure (which may consist of several stages) for a given purpose on an animal is counted as one returnable procedure.” ‘Procedure’, it emerges, is a collective noun, but what exactly it may have collected in any particular instance there’s no way at all of discovering from the statistics.

I don’t know whether I’ve been able to make things clear; probably not, because this key-word in ASPA is not used clearly and consistently even in the official documentation. To summarise, then. A ‘procedure’ is an animal’s whole career of procedures within one research project. If it’s a GA animal, that career will include the procedure which brought it into being, and may or may not include others. In short ‘procedure’ is a term so elastic as to be almost meaningless. The number 4.14 million, therefore, really means 4.14 million multiplied by an unknowable n.

This ambiguity must affect every aspect of the published statistics. For instance, the rule for deciding the painfulness or severity of a ‘procedure’ is that it should be put in the severest of the four classes (sub-threshold, mild, moderate, or severe) which it reaches at any point during the research. But you will see that the meaning of a severity class is itself obscured by the vagueness of the term ‘procedure’. A procedure classed as ‘severe’ may have been a brief torment constituting the whole of an animal’s part in modern science, or it may have entailed that ‘severe’ pain together with a succession of other ‘severe’ or ‘moderate’ or ‘mild’ interventions covering the full period of a research project. It makes a great difference to our understanding and (lest we forget) to the animal concerned, but the difference cannot be indicated in the Home Office statistics.

It’s no wonder, now I come to think of it, that Understanding Animal Research has been content to present the Home Office statistics on its web-site as the “reality” of animal research. In truth, they’re a mixture of understatement, euphemism, and unintelligibility. Despite all the varieties of show and tell that the animal research industry now agrees to, the essential secrecy remains. And I should say that outsiders will never really know what’s going on until we get the number of ‘procedures’ down to nought.



For Oxford University’s part in the 2015 numbers, see ‘Multitudes, multitudes’ in this blog (posted 24 April).

The Home Office’s Annual Statistics of Scientific Procedures on Living Animals, Great Britain 2015 can be seen at 

Its User Guide to Annual Statistics of Scientific Procedures on Living Animals  is at

Use, Keeping Alive and Re-use (dated October 2015) is at .

Other references are to be found on the relevant web-sites.




Multitudes, multitudes

Oxford University has made available the statistics of its animal research for 2015. I reproduce them here (on 24 April, World Day for Animals in Laboratories), with a few comments to follow:

Total Animals used in research, by species:

Species Number used in 2014 Number used in 2015
Mouse 208,905 207,216
Fish (Zebrafish) 13,136 16,051
Rat 3,880 2,363
Frog 280 322
Guinea Pig 81 81
Ferret 27 38
Rabbit 2 2
Non-Human Primates 5 4
Total 226,316 226,077

Severity of Procedures:

Severity % of Procedures
Severe 1
Moderate 14
Mild 53
Non-Recovery 3
Sub-Threshold 29

Severity by Species (% of procedures for main species used):

Species Severe Moderate Mild Non-Recovery Sub-Threshold
Mouse 1 14 54 2 29
Fish (Zebrafish) 6 3 52 0 39
Rat 1 19 33 39 8
Non-Human Primates 0 50 50 0 0

Severity of Procedures (2014 compared to 2015):

Year Severe Moderate Mild Non-Recovery Sub-Threshold
2014 (actual procedures) 1533 31494 110429 7146 76083
2015 (actual procedures) 2325 30683 120323 6077 66808
Change +792 -811 +9894 -1069 -9275
  1. Openness: The numbers in the first table have actually been published by the University on its web-site, the first time such numbers have been made public in that way. Previously, the only number given out was the one for animals accommodated at any one time in the new Biomedical Sciences Building: i.e. the more or less fixed number, 16,000. The University’s new informativeness is very welcome, as far as it goes. I guess that it has been brought about partly by the research industry’s recent ‘Concordat on Openness on Animal Research’ (for comment on this project, see post for 23 December 2015), and partly by the Freedom of Information Act, which meant that the figures could no longer be kept private anyway.
  2. Severity: The tables showing the levels of ‘severity’ of research procedures do not appear on the University’s web-site, and have been provided at VERO’s request. You’ll observe that although the annual total of animals has hardly changed (2014 representing an all-time high, which 2015 doesn’t quite match), the number of experiments causing the highest ‘severe’ level of pain or distress has for some reason increased by about 50%. To appreciate the implications of this, note that the Home Office’s definition of ‘severe’ includes “long-term disease processes where assistance with normal activities such as feeding and drinking are required or where significant deficits in behaviours/activities persist … any state that a person would find difficult to tolerate, or disease where clinical signs have progressed to such an extent that it threatens the life of an animal … A severe classification should be given in any situation where animals are in extremis.”
  3. Non-Recovery: For some comments on the welfare implications of ‘non-recovery’ in laboratories, see the post for 28 October 2015. The reference in these tables is of course to non-recovery from a particular procedure; in the longer run, no animal recovers from a stay in the Biomedical Sciences Building (BSB). In fact, lay people need to remind themselves how greatly the business of killing characterizes the laboratory scene. For instance, the whole of that cohort of 16,000 animals which the BSB accommodates is consumed within four or five weeks. That means that about 620 experimental animals are killed every day. In addition to those, there are the animals killed as surplus or unsuitable, who don’t appear in the statistics. No wonder many of the errors, malpractices, and delinquencies which are catalogued in the annual reports of the Home Office inspectorate arise from this aspect of animal research. Incidentally, the reports do not specify places or people, so I’ve no idea how often, if at all, Oxford University appears in them.

[References: Advisory notes on recording and reporting the actual severity of regulated procedures, January 2014, p.13; Animals in Science Regulation Unit’s Annual Report 2014, Appendix 1: both of these documents can be found on the Home Office web-page  The title of the present post is a quotation from the Book of the Prophet Joel, a short book in the Old Testament which includes a most remarkable description of a visitation of locusts (though the locusts are not the “multitudes” in question).]


Pharming Today

A chart showing the numbers of animals used in experiments in U.K. universities during 2014 (the most recent reportable year) puts Oxford University top, with its grand score of 226,739 – ahead of its nearest rival Edinburgh by about 25,000.

It may be that Oxford University’s scientific leadership takes quiet satisfaction in this result, if they’ve noticed it, as tending happily to confirm the University’s pre-eminence in biomedical science. After all, wasn’t this what their new building was for, to secure Oxford’s traditional place as the nation’s prime Laboratory, South Parks Roadcentre of animal research? However, as posted on the Oxford Students for Animals facebook page (and many others), the new information is headed ‘How many animals has your university killed?’, so it’s evidently not intended to please the contestant institutions, or the students whom they train in the practice. Accordingly there’s a defensive (but temperate) comment underneath it, from a medical scientist at Nottingham. He compares the lives of the U.K.’s laboratory animals favourably with those of animals on factory farms, and ends with this advice: shut the meat industry down FIRST before you try and curb the use of animals for discovering the drugs that cure our diseases.”

In one form or another, it’s a very familiar defence or put-off – as old, perhaps, as the vivisection debate itself (though not for that reason either right or wrong). It was certainly in use when the question first came before the British Parliament by means of a Royal Commission in 1875-6. Among those who tried it was the man who later became Oxford University’s first professor of Physiology, John Scott Burdon Sanderson. Part of his evidence tending to show that laboratory animals didn’t need legal protection was that ‘game’ animals were much worse off: the man had been a keen hare-courser, so of course he would have known what he was talking about. In 1927 the same argument was used by H. G. Wells in an article for the Sunday Express, in whose pages George Bernard Shaw soon afterwards demolished its moral logic thus: “This defence fits every possible crime from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter. Its disadvantage is that it is not plausible enough to impose on the simplest village constable.” Pitch-and-toss, incidentally, was a game of mixed skill and chance, played with coins, and was at one time illegal as a form of gambling, if played in the street: not as bad as picking pockets, no doubt, which in turn was not as bad as … etc., etc., until the argument comes to rest just short of mass murder.

Still, the defence is being made in this present instance by a researcher at Nottingham University, an institution which, though itself a user of animals in research (scoring a modest 17,924), does also accommodate the laboratories of the excellent Fund for the Replacement of Animals in Medical Experiments (FRAME). It therefore surely deserves a more considered reply than the Shaw quotation, and I shall try to give at least part of one.

Why, then, don’t anti-vivisectionists turn their attentions to the far greater suffering (numerically, certainly, and perhaps also in most other respects) endured by factory-farmed animals?

The first thing to say is that of course they do. I’ve used the word ‘turn’ to highlight the sleight of hand in the argument; most, if not all, anti-vivisectionists can and do have both wrongs clearly in view concurrently, as well as a whole range of others. It’s all one subject, though individuals and organisations may specialize within it: hence the one collective term by which Peter Singer identified it in the first sentence of Animal Liberation in 1975, “the tyranny of human over non-human animals”.

But vivisection is, besides, bound in with factory farming in a more particular and unpleasant way. The move from husbandry to mass-processing of farm-animals has been made possible at every stage by scientific research, including biomedical research. (Burdon Sanderson himself devoted his early vivisectional research to disease in cattle.) When Ruth Harrison first showed the public what was happening on Britain’s farms, in her book Animal Machines (1964), she made this fact very clear: “every batch of animals reaching market is a sequel to another experiment or part of an experiment.” The livestock farm and its farmer were being made dependants of the laboratory and the scientist. How far this has gone since then can be read in any issue of Farmers Weekly.

For even while Ruth Harrison was publicizing the wretched effects of this development, other voices were busily promoting it. One such was a 1965 volume in the ‘Teach Yourself’ series (of all innocent publishing brands), entitled Modern Poultry Keeping. The word ‘keeping’ has an old-fashioned suggestion of husbandry about it, but any readers of this book foolish enough to be expecting to teach themselves a job in agreeably rural surroundings, perhaps amateurishly collecting eggs in a basket, like the wholesome woman on the old Ovaltine tins, were indignantly corrected. It was now a “highly specialized business calling for men [N.B.] with a wide technical knowledge”. Raising table-poultry, for instance, “consists wholly in rearing birds that will carry the maximum amount of flesh in the shortest possible time, at the lowest cost.” You need maths, biology, and a good grounding in what the book calls “light engineering” to get that right – or someone else does, to get it right for you. And of course that “technical knowledge” also includes knowledge of the pharmacopoeia: oestrogen pellets to ‘caponize’ the would-be cockerels, antibiotics against disease, and so on.

Then there’s animal behaviour. The Nottingham scientist specifies this in his comment, reasonably enough, as one of the things that cannot be studied without the use of real animals, and indeed it’s been responsible for some of the most cruel and shameful scenes in laboratory history. Another book contemporary with Animal Machines, P. L. Broadhurst’s Science of Animal Behaviour (1963), reviewed some of these scenes, but not apologetically; on the contrary, the author took the view that the “exploitation in the service of man of the behavioural resources of animals has  cowhardly begun.” In particular he looked forward to a time when the “pitifully small” role so far played by animals in food-production would be greatly expanded, using the knowledge gained in the laboratory of what they can be induced or compelled to do: not just to make food out of themselves at minimum expense, that is, but also to pick fruit or mind machinery, or more generally to be what his book, with naïve but untouching enthusiasm, calls “slave labour”.

So much for agriculture as envisioned from the laboratory. That things on the farm are only as bad as they are, and not as they might have been (and may yet be), can at least partly be attributed to the ‘curbing’ of such dreams at source. It’s very much harder to correct them once they’ve become real.

*     *     *

The man usually regarded as the founder of experimental physiology, the Frenchman Claude Bernard – a bust of whom stood on our own Burdon Sanderson’s mantelpiece in Oxford – proudly described and championed his science’s characterizing spirit as “éminemment conquérant et dominateur”. That spirit of tyranny was glaringly evident in Bernard’s own work, so much so that one of his assistants subsequently wrote, “I cry off, and am prepared to see not only science, but even mankind, perish rather than have recourse to such means of saving it.” Unfortunately Bernard’s version of the scientific spirit has survived through more than 150 years of vivisection right up to the hideous attempts of recent years at xeno-transplantation and even (not in the U.K.) the transplanting of animal heads. It’s not only farming which is pervertable by science such as this. No doubt biomedical research has produced valuable knowledge and great benefits. But some of that research, both the valuable and even more tragically the worthless, has been at a cost to animal lives, and to human decency, which no real or speculative benefit to ourselves should have been allowed to justify. So far from leaving such research to itself for a while, it’s our duty to all animals, including ourselves, to do continuously everything we can to curb it.



G. B. Shaw is quoted from Shaw on Vivisection, ed. Bowker, 1949, p.35; Animal Machines, 2013 (2nd edition), pp.37-8; J. I. Portsmouth, Modern Poultry Keeping, pp.2 & 5; Science of Animal Behaviour, p.132 & foreword; Claude Bernard and George Hoggan are quoted in John Vyvyan, In Pity and in Anger, 1988, pp.46 & 77.


Public Labs

The last Oxford University Gazette of the Michaelmas term included the annual report from the Animal Care and Ethical Review committee: 2000 or so words about animal research at the University, for the proper conduct of which that committee is responsible. There were, voluntarily published in this way for the first time, a few statistics. Thus, 222,436 animals were used in 2014, an increase of about 19% on the previous year (comparing unfavourably to the slight decrease nationally); 1211 personal licences to use animals have been in force during the year 2015, a number which also seems to be on the increase; and, to supervise that work over the  1 Lab Mansfield Rd DSC_0984 same period, the Home Office inspectors made 30 visits to the University’s various “animal facilities”.

Mainly, however, and rather oddly for an annual publication, the report was about regulations and management, things which don’t change much from year to year. This makes dull reading (who does read it, one wonders; but then, who reads this?). All the same, there’s a victory implied in it. The more laborious the bureaucracy presented in the report , the more thoroughly it affirms that a scientist is not a fit person to judge the ethics of his or her own work. The old appeals to the exceptional tender-heartedness of physiologists (see earlier post, ‘The Real Benjulia’) or to their professional dignity (“You are proposing that physiologists … shall be licensed and regulated like publicans and prostitutes”, one of them indignantly told the Royal Commission on the subject in 1876) have no force now, persist as they may (and do). And of course this bureaucracy, though most immediately the product of various commissions, reports, statutes, etc., which have cumulatively proposed and created it, is really the work of all those adversaries of vivisection who have battered at the practice for the last 150 years and more.

What happened recently at Imperial College London is a clear reminder of that fact, as also of the fact that the victory is incomplete, that no system is sloven-proof or even delinquent-proof, and that the only way to do such research ethically is to take the animals out of it altogether. The malpractices of various sorts at that institution, which the British Union Against Vivisection (as it was then called) recorded and made public in 2012-13, had been missed or accepted by the institution’s own ethical supervision, and by the Home Office inspectors. The BUAV exposé prompted an independent report (the Brown Report, December 2013), and out of that came the much more purposeful management of animal research which is already being boasted about on the new ICL web-site.

In fact this ICL web-site won the “highly commended prize” two or three weeks ago at the Annual Openness Awards, an evening of mutual congratulation for the various corporate members of the ‘Concordat on Openness on Animal Research’. Since most of the people involved in the bad old days at ICL are presumably still at work there, this suggests some very smart PR. And the Concordat itself turns out to be, as suspected when it was announced in 2013, essentially a PR project. That solemnly portentous word ‘Concordat’, with its grand sound and perfectly ordinary meaning, is itself a ripe product of the profession, and I only wish that we had access to a record of all the brain-storming that led up to its triumphant selection. Anyway, it’s difficult to trust the sort of openness which boasts of itself in this fashion. The test of its authenticity will be what happens to Section 24, the ‘secrecy clause’, of the 1986 Act, still apparently being reviewed by the government. If the members of the Concordat are willing to scrap it, that will certainly be done.

Back to the animal research web-sites. ICL’s has a noticeable resemblance to Oxford University’s. Is there one consultancy designing all such sites? As to the Oxford pages, these days they appear in the University web-site’s News and Events category – inexplicably, since they include no news or events, and in fact don’t seem to have altered significantly since 2011 (the date of the last animal numbers which they provide). There is one newish feature, however: a short film which shows some of the animals off-duty, and draws particular attention to the ‘enrichment’ of their homes – wood-shavings, plastic tubing, hiding-places, and so on. These things no doubt do represent, for the animals, a real improvement upon the wretched ‘standard’ cages with which generations of their captors had apparently been quite satisfied. But the ranks and stacks of these new custom-made dwelling-boxes shown in the film reminds one that for some people such changes are also good business, as indeed vivisection always has been. And even the scientists get a professional ride out of it, because enrichment itself has become a research topic.

In illustration of this last point, I shall conclude with two extracts from an article in the highly-regarded Comparative Medicine, a publication sponsored by the American Association for Laboratory Animal Science. The first extract identifies some of the effects of enrichment, and in doing so provides some insights into the way of life enjoyed by these animals, with or without the upgrade:

As an example of a behavioral study, a comparison of C57BL/6 and 129S6/SvEv mice found that housing in an enriched compared with a standard environment increased exploratory activity in the plus-maze test and reduced habituation in the locomotor activity test in C57BL6 mice, whereas 129S6/SvEv mice showed increased hot-plate latencies and reduced aggression. Furthermore, EE accentuated strain differences in the plus-maze, locomotor activity, hot plate, and forced swim tests, whereas strain differences in the plus-maze and resident-intruder tests were not retained across environments.

The second extract helpfully warns us against attaching too much importance to such improvements, and ends with an absolutely model euphemism. In fact, brief as it is, this is a really choice bit of scientific prose. Next time, perhaps, I shall do a proper critical appreciation of it.

However, animal wellbeing, as reflected by normal growth, development, and reproduction with low likelihood of injury, illness, distress, or maladaptive behavior, can exist even in housing situations in which the animal cannot perform its entire repertoire of species-appropriate behaviors, particularly if the animal will be maintained for a relatively short portion of its lifespan.  [see Comp Med. 2011 Aug; 61(4): 314–321]