This marks another installment of Time-Travel Thursdays, a voyage through
The Atlantic
’ s archives to provide context for the current moment and uncover charming gems.
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In recent days, my social media feeds have been flooded with videos of Moo Deng, the tiny pygmy hippo, whose slick skin, playful walk, and wobbly jowls have captured the online world’s attention.
Washington Post
article
Last week attempted to elucidate the young calf’s appeal by referencing scientific proof showing how creatures’ adorableness “manipulates our minds,” akin to an infant’s charming attributes that “tap into individuals’ inherent caretaking impulses”—a survival benefit that has assisted humanity in thriving.
However, people’s sentiments towards other living beings are much more complex than what the current online trends might indicate. On one side, humans’ fondness for animals, frequently displayed through giving them human traits, is widely recorded. Even as far back as 1874, this phenomenon has been observed.
The Atlantic
published an article asking
whether they have souls
., since then, our writers have queried how
smart
animals are, whether they
love
us, and how they
think
On the contrary, numerous individuals continue to view various species as inferior creatures—intended for confinement in zoos, housed as pets at home, destined for consumption, or used for pharmaceutical testing.
Since its founding,
The Atlantic
has explored the evolution of thought regarding animal welfare and rights.
An essay from 1976 written by James Fallows
For example, this illustrates the cognitive dissonance that numerous individuals exhibit regarding animals. Similar to many other Americans, Fallows admitted that he would never consume meat from his own pets yet felt no hesitation about enjoying a steak dinner. He further anticipated that such perspective could become outdated soon. As he penned, “Not only environmental activists—with their alerts about the endangerment of wildlife—but also a burgeoning and vocal group argue that every animal, regardless of abundance or appeal, has been unjustly deprived of its right to well-being and joy by thoughtless humanity.”
Nearly 30 years earlier,
The Atlantic
Published “Death of a Pig,”
An essay written by E.B. White
In this narrative, he shares the tale of a pig who captured his affection. Over time, White grew used to purchasing a piglet in the spring, nurturing it through the summer and autumn before having it butchered for food during the wintertime. This routine did not provoke any doubts within him; he considered the process swift and proficient. Moreover, he viewed the resulting smoked bacon and ham as an appropriate conclusion, one whose propriety was rarely contested.
Everything shifted when a specific pig failed to show up for his usual meal. Concerned and thinking the pig might be ill, White contacted someone he knew, who then reached out to another person. This individual advised administering castor oil and performing a soapy water enema on the pig. To help administer the treatment, White’s son flipped the pig upside down, causing the animal’s face to appear downturned as though scowling. “With his head downward, the edges of his lips drooped, making him look grim,” White recounts, attributing human feelings to the creature. Once upright once more, the pig managed to regain his characteristic grin—even during illness. However, despite these efforts, the pig did not improve. Over the following few days, White cared for the swine much like a guardian tending to their offspring: checking his body heat via his ear, trying various foods such as milk to tempt him into eating. Despite all attempts failing, nothing brought about recovery. Consequently, White fell into deep despair; his empathy was entirely aligned with the struggling pig.
White’s unexpected fondness for a pig he had intended to consume until then may appear inconsistent. However, this sentiment mirrors the mixed feelings humans often have towards animals and highlights our aversion to witnessing their distress. According to White, the pig “endured in an anguished world,” turning into “a representation of universal misery.” This realization led him to understand that what was true for his pig could equally apply to the rest of his orderly existence.
In essence, these queries delve into the core of human self-perception. Do we, as stated in the Bible, represent the zenith of God’s creations? And what exactly sets us apart from every other species on Earth? A critique of two related books addresses this very issue.
discovery of dinosaurs
The work we released this summer, penned by Brenda Wineapple, explores how the discovery of the first fossil disrupted humanity’s perceived superior position in nature’s hierarchy. Despite the widespread acceptance of evolution today, people continue to view themselves as dominant beings at the apex of this structure; we still consume animal products and conduct experiments on creatures lower down the chain.
In 1989, Steven Zak
wrote about animal-rights activists
Those aiming to prompt reflection on whether animals, recognized for their emotions and inner lives, should merely serve as scientific tools posed this query. Zak invited readers to envision a society where utilizing “animals against their welfare” was banned. Referencing a 1988 study indicating that current and potential alternatives might reduce lab animal usage significantly, he noted advancements since then but acknowledged that eliminating all forms of animal experimentation remains unfulfilled. This transition necessitates profound changes in perspective—from perceiving ourselves as having a god-given right to control nature—to embracing our interconnectedness within it.
This past summer, I visited an animal sanctuary located in the Catskills region. This place shelters numerous farm creatures that were saved from difficult situations. Among them were two pigs delivered there by their former owner—a farmer who witnessed suffering among his livestock and consequently decided to switch careers, focusing instead on growing vegetables. It remains unclear whether White ceased breeding pigs altogether as a source of food. However, four years following the publication of his essay titled “The Death of a Pig,” he authored another piece.
Charlotte’s Web
In the beloved children’s book centered around Wilbur, an adorable young pig, and Charlotte, the spider who rescues him from being slaughtered, near the story’s conclusion, as autumn sets in, Charlotte shares with Wilbur, “The leaves will detach from the trees and descend. Then comes Christmas followed by the winter snows. You shall have the opportunity to appreciate the splendor of the frostbitten realm”—a scene that eluded White’s pig until his last days.
