Having spent all my days - save for a two-month stint working at an amusement park in Ohio - living in Michigan, I am traversing the country in just two short weeks to settle into my new life in Atlanta. This, of course, means leaving my government public health job for hopefully greener pastures. As I searched for employment opportunities this morning, I found a job in Animal Behavior Management. The good news is that I have studied both evolutionary and applied animal behavior and can construct a mean ethogram with the best of ‘em. The bad news is that the job was at a primate research center. One that conducts not only social and behavioral research, but biomedical research.
Eep.
“It will be fine,” I told myself. “All I have to do is observe behavior, design some enrichment activities, and train them using positive reinforcement techniques.” I reassured myself that nothing in the listing indicated I would be working with procedures involving invasive surgeries or painful testing; the sooty mangabeys I’d be working with would not be subjected to physical intrusion of their bodies. I started to write my cover letter.
And stopped.
Being the thorough – some may say obsessive – researcher that I am, I typed the facility’s name into Google. The Wikipedia article was fairly neutral, as they tend to be, but several things stopped me in my tracks. Criticism from leading primatologist Jane Goodall. Animal Welfare Act violations. An employee death. I immediately scrapped my cover letter.
Biomedical research on animals, particularly nonhuman primates, is a complex and controversial issue. Many people still do not have a fully fleshed out stance on it. I am not here to debate the pros and cons of the issue, but to reflect upon my decision to withdraw my application from an academic standpoint.
As an anthrozoologist in training, I see it as my duty to examine issues from all sides. I can (and have) read both pro- and anti-biomedical testing literature. I can try to be as objective as possible, refraining from emotional whitewash and appeals to my sensitive side, which I admit, is far from easy. Ultimately, this did not happen today. When I asked myself why I closed Word and didn’t save the letter, my exact thought was, “I don’t want to be surrounded by all that pain.”
Did I throw away a potential learning opportunity? Absolutely. Do I need to be in the thick of things to fully understand them? Maybe. Therefore, was I wrong from the standpoint of being a “good” anthrozoologist? Perhaps, but not necessarily.
Must ethical vegetarians work in a slaughterhouse? Must pro-life obstetricians perform abortions? Most people would say “Of course not!” and they would be correct. Categorical opposition to a belief or practice does not need to be rooted in experience; we can’t possibly experience everything objectionable in this world. That doesn’t mean we can’t stand against it. I still can’t help but think I’m missing an opportunity to gain a new perspective, but ignoring the pit deep in my stomach when I think about working in this environment may be an even bigger mistake.
