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During the nineteenth century, a growing sense of empathy toward non-human animals emerged within the Habsburg Empire. The new empathy toward animals took organizational form in voluntary associations that attracted men and women in urban settings. In 1852, one of the first such associations was born in the busy port city of Trieste (Trst/Triest), drawing members from the elite. These individuals criticized the animal care practices of the working class and rural population, repeatedly accusing them of “immorality” and even “inhumanity.”
As the article depicts, the guardians of the animal kingdom were not as compassionate as they might appear. In fact, the protectors of animals believed themselves far superior to the proletarians who supposedly whipped their horses. The way the growing bourgeoisie treated their animal friends ultimately served as a tool in the creation of the social distinction between the bourgeoisie on the one hand, and the workers and peasants on the other.
While Trieste’s animal protection society reflected a broader global trend, it also displayed unique characteristics shaped by the city’s distinctive social and cultural dynamics. The article sheds light on how these local traits influenced its development.
The article discusses a passage in chapter 49 of the Hippocratic treatise On Regimen. It defends the transmitted text against a conjecture proposed by R. Joly, the author of the Corpus Medicorum Graecorum edition.
Sometimes male ostriches emit a low guttural sound that sounds strangely like a lion. On the plains in South Africa, these sounds aimed at female ostriches might confuse an unknowing listener. But on a ship bound from South Africa to Galveston, Texas in February 1887, these lion-esque sounds would not have been heard. Instead, as these dozens of ostriches crossed the Atlantic, their vocalizations were probably a quiet chirp, despite each bird weighing well over 100 pounds. Each ostrich had a more solitary existence on the ship than they had experienced in the wild or on a South African farm. On the Atlantic, they lived in single padded stalls near the middle of the hold, with paddocks between the stalls to offer some exercise and perhaps some interaction among the birds.1
Two of the world’s greatest boxers—Muhammad Ali of Louisville, KY and George Foreman of Houston, TX—met for the legendary “Rumble in the Jungle” in Kinshasa, Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo) in 1974. With concerts by the African American “Godfather of Soul” James Brown and South African singer-songwriter Miriam Makeba, nicknamed “Mama Africa,” the entwining tones of the U.S. civil rights era and anti-Apartheid movement augmented a cultural moment that displayed Pan-African, Black nationalist, and anti-imperial connections. However, the appearance of an insidious symbol from each aforementioned era is what decidedly swayed the local population against Foreman and for Ali.1
The nature of all existence is relationships. This chapter discusses how spirituality is a being’s relationships with all forms of existence and phenomena. For human beings, spirituality means accessing cognitive and physical capacities in order to find and establish connections with the universe. Human spirituality is a secular form of practice and belief that focuses on the autonomy of the person. There is an encouragement to explore personal freedom and to develop relationships with the natural world. This chapter focuses on why connections with others, animals, nature, weather, and natural environments is a critical aspect of the social and emotional intelligences.
This Element explores the relevance of non-human animals to theology. It suggests that while Christian theology has so far been a thoroughly anthropocentric discipline, there are good reasons for treating animals as subjects worthy of theological reflection in their own right. The Element considers animals in the context of Christian ethics, investigates whether the violence and suffering found in evolutionary processes can be reconciled with a good God, and surveys some of the ways key theological doctrines may need to be altered in the light of what contemporary science teaches about human animals and non-humans.
Environmental problems have become increasingly evident in post-revolutionary Iran. As a result, the field of environment has come to be a focus of research studies and technical management in the country. The recent proliferation of scientific analyses of the so-called environment indicates that the schemes of modern science are developing to combat the problems therein. Research findings also suggest, however, that environmental discourses and practices are not entirely reducible only to the terms of the natural sciences; distinctively, differing ideas of “nature” are drawn on to conceptualize differing schemes of environmental activities. This article explores how the materiality of national symbols brings to light particular social histories that reflect on and unfold through environmental discourses and practices encountered in Tehran.
Repatriation of human remains and associated funerary objects under NAGPRA and the increased use of culturally informed curation practices for sacred, religious, and ceremonial objects are important steps toward restoring control over cultural patrimony to Native Nations in the United States. Many museums holding Indigenous belongings have begun a collaborative care approach involving Indigenous community voices and improving access to collections. However, this framework has not been applied to many animal remains curated in American archaeology museums, which remain broadly beyond the care or administrative purview of Native people. Because many Indigenous worldviews do not hold a clear separation between the human and animal spheres, common practices applied to animal remains are not congruent with the idea of respectful or culturally informed care. Here we outline steps to shift the treatment of animals through the application of Indigenous knowledge to museum collections.
This article opens with a mystery: why was Zizang 子臧 assassinated in the seventh century bce, and why was his assassination justified in the Zuozhuan by his fondness of snipe-feather caps? It is well established that feathers were a common item of clothing in early and medieval China, used to confer status, to flaunt wealth, to embellish rituals. This article argues that there may also have been accompanying beliefs surrounding their use; beliefs that feathers might bestow upon the wearer certain imagined characteristics of the birds from which they came. It uses case studies of soldiers and their relationship to brown-eared pheasants, dancers and their relationship to long-tailed pheasants, and immortals and their relationship to cranes and egrets. Finally, it returns to Zizang's snipe-feather cap, and suggests reasons for his fate.
The nineteenth-century antivivisection movement was supported by a striking number of poets, authors, and playwrights who attended meetings, signed petitions, contributed funds, and lent their pens to the cause. Yet live animal experimentation also permeated the Victorian imagination and shaped British literary culture in ways that the movement against it did not anticipate and could not entirely control. This is the first sustained literary-critical study of the topic. It traces responses to the practice through an extensive corpus of canonical, popular, and ephemeral texts including newspapers, scientific books, and government documents. Asha Hornsby sheds light on the complex entanglement of art and science at the fin-de-siècle and explores how the representational and aesthetic preoccupations opened up by vivisection debates often sat uneasily alongside a socio-political commitment to animal protection. Despite efforts to present writing and vivisecting as rivalrous activities, author and experimenter, pen and scalpel, often resembled each other.
In contrast to anthropocentric readings of the Georgics, chapter 3 argues that Vergil is interested in farming as a way of considering the entangled lives of humans and nonhumans. The chapter contextualizes Vergil’s ecological thinking – highlighting influences from ancient philosophy, ethnography, Hesiod, and Roman agricultural treatises – and differentiates this reading from interpretations that shoehorn the relations of humans and nonhumans into a nature–culture binary. The chapter examines how the poem discloses agriculture as a practice of managing ecological relations. The second half of the chapter then queries the status of the human within its ecologies. While much of the poem denies human exceptionality, it does recognize ways in which humans stand out from the rest of the world, above all in their unparalleled ability to transform their environments – epitomized by the world-altering activities of Rome and Caesar. Ultimately, the chapter connects the peculiar status of the human to the didactic aims of the poem. By relaying and explaining the signa of the world, the Georgics offers the fantasy of an expertise that can better embed humans in their environments.
With animal embodiment, the project of Hegel’s Philosophy of Nature comes full circle: The opening selection of text on space and time end with twin terms – place and movement – and in animal embodiment we finally get the natural phenomenon that does justice to both. The animal body is the first physical body to have three properly distinguished dimensions, and it is only in virtue of those qualitative, organic dimensions that we can abstract away a three-dimensional Euclidean space in which such bodies are taken to appear and to move. Hegel divides his discussion of the animal into discussions of its formation, assimilation, and species-process, and the chapter adopts that categorization as its structure. As a first pass, it says that form (die Gestalt) gives us the special point 0 for time and the step from the plane to an enclosing surface for space; assimilation gives us the order of time and the step from line to plane for space; and the species process (Gattungsprozeß) gives us the linearity of time and the step from point to line for space. These combinations display the animal body as the spatio-temporal object par excellence, and thus the object by reference to which all spatiality and temporality is understood.
What are the basic coordinates of the dispute between Heidegger and Levinas over the phenomenology of “death” and its larger ontological or ethical significance? Or, put in the “perfectionist” terms developed in Chapter 4, in what ways do Heidegger and Levinas disagree about how we human beings become genuinely or fully ourselves? Examining the convergences and divergences of Heidegger’s and Levinas’s phenomenologies of death, this chapter suggests that Heidegger and Levinas both understood themselves as struggling to articulate the requisite ethical response to the great traumas of the twentieth century. By comparing their thinking at this level, I contend, we can better understand the ways in which Levinas genuinely diverges from Heidegger even while building critically on his thinking.
The aim of this chapter is to highlight the possibility of applying the mathematicalformalism and methodology of quantum theory to model behaviourof complex biosystems, from genomes and proteins to animals, humans, ecologicaland social systems. Such models are known as quantum-like and theyshould be distinguished from genuine quantum physical modeling of biologicalphenomena. One of the distinguishing features of quantum-like models istheir applicability to macroscopic biosystems, or to be more precise, to informationprocessing in them. Quantum-like modeling has the base in quantuminformation theory and it can be considered as one of the fruits of the quantuminformation revolution. Since any isolated biosystem is dead, modelingof biological as well as mental processes should be based on theory of opensystems in its most general form – theory of open quantum systems. In thischapter we advertise its applications to biology and cognition, especiallytheory of quantum instruments and quantum master equation. We mentionthe possible interpretations of the basic entities of quantum-like models withspecial interest to QBism as maybe the most useful interpretation.
Chapter 4 uses chronicles, hagiographies, ekphraseis and polemical treatises to discuss clerical hunting in Romanía. Prohibitions against clerical hunting had existed for Western men since Late Antiquity, but there is not enough evidence to suggest that Romanía followed the same pattern. In the Eastern Roman context, narratives of clerical hunting did not put the emphasis on differences between secular and religious men, and non-participation did not entail the loss of masculine capital. Rather, the focus was on human/animal interactions and the need to avoid overindulgence, and the emphasis was the same whether the person involved was an emperor or a cleric. The animals themselves also had an important role to play: they were not simply seen as prey to be dominated by the manly man but could act as co-creators of the skills necessary for the hunt, leaving their traces on their co-hunters’ subjectivity. At the same time, the malleability of Eastern Roman ideas about which animal lives were worth preserving allowed authors to strategically unify all men against the animal Other or to distinguish between different types of men, creating in the process hierarchies of masculinities.
The conclusion brings together the themes that have emerged throughout the book, provides comparative perspectives, teases out some of the wider implications for the study of gender and suggests directions for future research. It also comes back to the multitude of animals that have appeared sporadically throughout the different chapters, discussing the role they played in gender construction and the potential of human/animal connections to decentre the man in the process of creating male subjectivities.
The introduction sets forth the theoretical framework of the book by defining the two main lenses through which the material is viewed: scholarly masculinity and clerical masculinity. In doing so, it clarifies their relationship to other types of masculinities and highlights the role of animals in gender formation. This chapter also situates the book in its broader historiographical context, within both Byzantine and Western medieval Studies.
Chapter 2 focuses on Ioannes Tzetzes’ letters and his Chiliades to explore the role that animals could play in the construction of the scholar’s gender. It begins with a discussion of Tzetzes’ preference for mules and the role they played in networks of patronage. It continues to show how Tzetzes challenged hegemonic masculinity by expressing solidarity with animals: not only did he not hunt or kill them, but he also often refused to eat them. In his collection of ancient stories, Tzetzes described animals as capable of friendship, affection, loyalty and grief, and praised their understanding of the world as in some ways superior to that of humans. In his letters, he used his affective connections with animals to justify his open expression of emotions and did not hesitate to grieve for humans, animals and plants. Tzetzes’ writings, through their blurring of human/non-human boundaries, invite us to think differently about animals, past and present, spurring us to develop greater empathy with our natural environment.
Lucian’s In Praise of the Fly offers a delightfully wry encomium of the humble house fly. While the speech engages wittily with sophistic traditions by praising this troublesome insect, it also raises important questions about social marginality and the workings of power, and about the mechanisms through which value is conventionally assessed and reinforced. This chapter examines scale, social status, and literary self-consciousness in Lucian’s representation of the fly as a creature of immense cultural importance. The encomium, it is argued, plays with conventional associations between size and value, revelling in comic juxtapositions of scale, and in the mismatch between ambition and achievement. It also exploits traditional modes of discourse that present animals as models for the socially disenfranchised, and draws on the vocabulary of literary criticism and composition in order to evoke and challenge the symbolism traditionally attributed to other insects and to represent the fly provocatively as the new emblem of a refined literary and cultural aesthetic.
What does it mean to be a man? What makes one effeminate or manly? What renders a man 'Byzantine'? Drawing from theories of gender, posthumanism and disability, this book explores the role of learning, violence and animals in the construction of Byzantine masculinities. It foregrounds scholars and clerics, two groups who negotiated the hegemonic ideal of male violence in contrasting and unexpected ways. By flaunting their learning, scholars accumulated enough masculine capital to present more “feminine” emotional dispositions and to reject hunting and fighting without compromising their masculinity. Clerics often appear less peaceable. Some were deposed for fighting, while many others seem to have abandoned their roles to pursue warfare, demonstrating the fluidity of religious and gender identity. For both clerics and scholars, much of this gender-work depended on animals, whose entanglements with humans ranged from domination to mutual transformation.