My first lesson in animal rights was taught to me by a small white rat that I took home from the college psychology lab.
The introductory course in psychology used rats that were deprived of water for three days and then put in a cage that delivers a few drops of water when a bar is pressed by the thirsty animal inside.
The point of the lab was to show how learning occurs — if an animal is rewarded for an action such as pressing a bar, the animal will probably repeat the action.
At the conclusion of the course, the rats are put together in a trash can, chloroform is poured over them, and the lid is closed.
One day, I took a rat home from the lab.
“Ratsky” lived for some months in a cage in my bedroom. And in her cage, she behaved the way I assumed rats behave.
But when I started leaving the cage door open so she could walk around, I began to see things I hadn’t anticipated. After several days of cautious sniffing about at the cage door, she began to investigate the world outside.
As she explored my apartment (under my watchful eye), she took an interest in my friends and me.
She gradually became more and more friendly. If I were lying on my back reading, she would come and stand on my chest. She would wait to be petted, and if I didn’t pay her enough attention, she would lightly nip my nose and run away. I knew her sharp teeth could have gone right through my skin, but she was always playfully careful.
Like a cat, Ratsky spent hours grooming herself. Given food, water and warmth, I found that rats were friendly, fun and meticulously clean.
If I left a glass of ice water on the floor for her, she would painstakingly take out each ice cube and carry it inch by inch in her teeth away from the glass until all the ice had been “cleaned” out.
One day, I noticed a lump in her skin. With time it grew, and after a long search, I found a vet who specialized in laboratory animals to take the lump out. It turned out to be a tumor.
After the surgery, she painfully tottered a few steps, trembling.
Despite the surgery, her condition worsened and her suffering was very apparent.
At night I would sleep with her in the palm of my hand so I would wake up if she needed my help. Before long, it became clear that Ratsky’s health was failing and that she was in great distress. Finally, she had to be put down.
I carry with me the vivid image of this tiny animal tottering in pain, of her in my palm trying to pull out the sutures that were a constant irritation to her. In the months that followed, I began to think about all the other animals whose suffering I had accepted so dispassionately, and I realized each one was an individual who suffered just as acutely as the little rat I had held in my hand. And that suffering was just as real whether the animal was a dog, a monkey, a rat or a mouse.
Now, as a practicing physician, I continue to be puzzled by the resistance to compassion that I see so commonly in others and that I, too, experienced for so long. Cruelty to animals is diagnosed as a psychiatric symptom predictive of antisocial personality. Yet we often fail to recognize the cruelties perpetuated so casually in laboratories.
Not too long ago, my alma mater sent me a survey asking, among other things, who had been my most effective teacher. I’m not sure they understood my reply.
Neal Barnard is president of the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine, a non-profit organization advocating preventive medicine and higher ethical standards in research.
Because much of what former US president Donald Trump says is unhinged and histrionic, it is tempting to dismiss all of it as bunk. Yet the potential future president has a populist knack for sounding alarums that resonate with the zeitgeist — for example, with growing anxiety about World War III and nuclear Armageddon. “We’re a failing nation,” Trump ranted during his US presidential debate against US Vice President Kamala Harris in one particularly meandering answer (the one that also recycled urban myths about immigrants eating cats). “And what, what’s going on here, you’re going to end up in World War
Earlier this month in Newsweek, President William Lai (賴清德) challenged the People’s Republic of China (PRC) to retake the territories lost to Russia in the 19th century rather than invade Taiwan. He stated: “If it is for the sake of territorial integrity, why doesn’t [the PRC] take back the lands occupied by Russia that were signed over in the treaty of Aigun?” This was a brilliant political move to finally state openly what many Chinese in both China and Taiwan have long been thinking about the lost territories in the Russian far east: The Russian far east should be “theirs.” Granted, Lai issued
On Tuesday, President William Lai (賴清德) met with a delegation from the Hoover Institution, a think tank based at Stanford University in California, to discuss strengthening US-Taiwan relations and enhancing peace and stability in the region. The delegation was led by James Ellis Jr, co-chair of the institution’s Taiwan in the Indo-Pacific Region project and former commander of the US Strategic Command. It also included former Australian minister for foreign affairs Marise Payne, influential US academics and other former policymakers. Think tank diplomacy is an important component of Taiwan’s efforts to maintain high-level dialogue with other nations with which it does
On Sept. 2, Elbridge Colby, former deputy assistant secretary of defense for strategy and force development, wrote an article for the Wall Street Journal called “The US and Taiwan Must Change Course” that defends his position that the US and Taiwan are not doing enough to deter the People’s Republic of China (PRC) from taking Taiwan. Colby is correct, of course: the US and Taiwan need to do a lot more or the PRC will invade Taiwan like Russia did against Ukraine. The US and Taiwan have failed to prepare properly to deter war. The blame must fall on politicians and policymakers