Saving the whales isn’t an entirely selfless act
I was horrified too. Hundreds of pilot whales, I read, were stranded on a Tasmanian beach . These creatures are big, beautiful and smart. Rescuers were toiling but it was already Australia’s worst beaching, and still the numbers of dead rose. Some of the whales rescued even inexplicably swam back to beach themselves again. It was heartbreaking.
So why did something about the story stick in my throat?
I think it was because it went viral. There’s something about animals in distress that sends us mad. A decade ago, Britain lost it after Mary Bale was filmed by CCTV picking a cat up then dropping it in a bin. She received death threats. Later she confessed that her thoughtless action had ruined life.
There have been countless other cases of almost feral anger unleashed on those who harm animals. This seems to be the way. We lose all sense of proportion when we can identify an innocent, blameless victim.
I bet that as well as feeling sad, something in that outpouring of pity makes us feel good about ourselves
Yet that outpouring of passion for the innocent has its limits. During the time the poor whales have been stranded on that Antipodean beach, hundreds of millions of equally innocent chickens have been slaughtered for meat. Of course, there’s no outcry there. I realise this is slightly mad, but it drives me crazy.
The thing about the whales was the case was open and shut. It was easy to understand, easier even to feel. It took no thought. In fact, it was thoughtless. But just as we might curl our lips at thoughtless cruelty, so we should be suspicious of thoughtless pity. Because I’m willing to bet that as well as feeling sad for the animals, something in that outpouring of pity makes us feel good about ourselves. As if our concern for them is more than rubbernecking. But I’m not sure that it is.
Don’t get me wrong — I’m also not saying sod the whales. Definitely save the whales. Maybe, though, like me you can sometimes hear the hollow note that your own sympathy seems to sound. The bit of you that says “hold on, how much do I really care about pilot whales stranded on the other side of the world?”
It’s an odd thought — that pity can be thoughtless. That it’s the other side of the coin to thoughtless cruelty. But it can be. It’s not always the higher call of the better parts of our nature. That’s why something in these animal-outcries often sounds strange to me. And maybe, now, to you too.
