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Zoöpolis Urbanization in the west was
based historically on a notion of progress rooted in the conquest and
exploitation of nature by culture. The moral compass of city-builders pointed
toward the virtues of reason, progress, and profit, leaving wild lands and wild
things -as well as people deemed to be wild or "savage" -beyond the
scope of their reckoning. Today, the logic of capitalist urbanization still
proceeds without regard to nonhuman animal life, except as cash-on-the-hoof
headed for slaughter on the "disassembly" line or commodities used to
further the cycle of accumulation. Development may be slowed by laws protecting
endangered species but you will rarely see the bulldozers stopping to gently
place rabbits or reptiles out of harm's way. Paralleling this disregard for
nonhuman life, you will find no mention of animals in contemporary urban theory
-whether mainstream or Marxist, neoclassical or feminist. The lexicon of
mainstream theory, for example, reveals a deep-seated anthropocentrism.
Urbanization transforms "empty" land through a process called
"development," to produce "improved land" whose developers
are exhorted (at least in neoclassical theory) to dedicate it to the
"highest and best use." Such language reflects a peculiar perversion
of our thinking: wildlands are not "empty" but teeming with nonhuman
life; "development" involves a through denaturalization of the
environment; improved land is invariably impoverished in terms of soil quality,
drainage, and vegetation; and judgments of highest and best use reflect
profit-centered values and interests of humans alone, ignoring not only wild or
feral animals but captives such as pets, lab animals, and livestock who live
and die in urban space shared with people. Marxian varieties of urban theory
are also anthropocentric, setting the urban as a human stage for capitalist
production, social reproduction of labor, and capital circulation and
accumulation. Similarly feminist urban theory, when grounded primarily in
socialist and liberal feminism~ (rather than ecofeminism), avoids questions of
how patriarchy and gendered social practices shape the fate of animals in the
city. Our theories and practices of
urbanization have contributed to disastrous eco- logical effects. Wildlife
habitat is being destroyed at record rates as the urban front advances
worldwide, driven in the First World by suburbanization and edge-city
development, and in the Second and Third Worlds by pursuit of a "catching-up"
development model which produces vast rural to urban migration flows and
sprawling squatter landscapes. Entire ecosystems and species are threatened,
while individual animals crowded out of their homes (or dumped) must risk entry
into urban areas in search of food or water, where they encounter people,
vehicles and other dangers. The substitution of pets for wild nature in the
city has driven an explosion of the urban pet population, polluting urban
waterways as well as leading to mass killings of dogs and cats. Isolation of
urban people from the domestic animals they eat has distanced them from the
horrors and ecological harms of factory farming, and the escalating destruction
of rangelands and forests driven by the market's efforts to create/satisfy a
lust for meat. For most free creatures, as well as staggering numbers of
captives such as pets and livestock, cities imply suffering, death, or
extinction. The aim of this paper is to
foreground an urban theory that takes nonhumans seriously. In the first part, I
clarify what I mean by "humans" and "animals," and provide
a series of arguments suggesting that a transspecies
urban theory is necessary to the development of an eco-socialist, feminist,
anti-racist urban praxis. Then, in the second Dart, I argue that current
considerations of animals and people in the capitalist city (based-on
The rationale for considering
animals in the context of urban environmentalism is not transparent. Urban
environmental issues traditionally center around the pollution of the city
conceived as human habitat, not animal habitat. Thus the various wings of the urban
progressive environmental movement have avoided thinking about nonhumans, and
have left the ethical as well as pragmatic ecological, political and economic
questions regarding animals to be dealt with by those involved in the defense
of endangered species or animal welfare. Such a division of labor privileges
the rare and the tame, and ignores the lives and living spaces of the large
number and variety of animals who dwell in cities. In this section, I argue
that even common, everyday animals should matter. The human-animal divide: a definition At the outset, it is imperative
to clarify what we mean when we talk about "animals" or
"nonhumans" on the one hand, and "people" or
"humans" on the other. Where does one draw the line between the two,
and upon what criteria? This is probably humankind's Ur-question, since the
biological, social and psychological construction of what is human depends
unequivocally on what is animal. At various times and places particular answers
to this Ur-question have gained hegemony. In many parts of the world beliefs in
transmogrification or transmigration of souls provide a basis for beliefs in
human-animal continuity (or even coincidence). But in the western world animals
have for many centuries been defined as fundamentally different and
ontologically separate from humans. This is despite the fact that the explicit
criteria for establishing the human-animal difference have changed over time
(have they souls? can they reason? talk? suffer?). All such criteria have
routinely used humans as the standard for judgment. The concern is, can animals
do what humans do? rather than can humans do what animals do (breathe in water,
simultaneously distinguish 30 different odors, etc.)? Thus judged, animals are
inferior beings. Such convictions were widely popularized by Thomas Aquinas and
Rene Descartes among others. And although-the Darwinian revolution declared a
fundamental continuity among species, humans (or rather white men) still stood
firmly astride the apex of the evolutionary chain. Lacking souls or reason, and
below humans on the evolutionary scale, animals could still be readily separated
from people, objectified and used instrumentally for food, clothes,
transportation, company or spare body parts. Agreement about the human/animal
divide has recently collapsed. Critiques of post-Enlightenment science have
undermined claims of human-animal discontinuity, and exposed the deeply
anthropocentric and androcentric roots of modernist science. Greater
understanding of animal thinking and capabilities now reveals the astonishing
range and complexity of animal behavior and social life, while studies of human
biology and behavior emphasize the similarity of humans to other animals.
Claims about human uniqueness have thus been rendered deeply suspicious.
Debates about the human-animal divide have also raged as a result of
sociobiological discourses about the biological bases for human social organization
and behavior, and feminist and anti-racist arguments about the social bases for
human differences claimed to be biological. Long held beliefs in the human as
social subject and the animal as biological object have thus been destabilized. My position on the human/animal
divide is similar to that of Noske, who like Haraway, Plumwood, and others,
argues that "animals do indeed resemble us a great deal" but that
their "otherness" must also be recognized by people. This otherness
is not simply the result of obvious morphological differences as emphasized by
the life sciences; such an emphasis essentializes animals by reducing them to
their biological traits alone. This is an unforgivable tactic when directed
toward specific categories of people (e.g., women) but somehow deemed perfectly
acceptable for animals, despite the misleading conclusions that result. Those
who minimize human-animal discontinuity also obliterate animal otherness
through the denial of difference. Both extremes are anthropocentric, and deny
the possibility that animals as well as people socially construct their worlds
and influence each other's worlds; the resulting "animal constructs are
likely to be markedly different from ours but may be no less real."
Animals have their own realities, their own worldviews - in short, they are subjects not objects. This position is rarely reflected
in eco-socialist, feminist and antiracist practices which have conceptualized
"the environment" in one of three ways: (i) as set of scientifically
defined biological, geophysical and geochemical assemblages or systems, e.g.,
biosphere, lithosphere, ecosystem, etc.; (ii) as a stock of "natural resources,"
the essential medium for human life and source of economic well-being whose
quality must therefore (and only therefore) be protected; or (iii) as an active
but somehow unitary subject that responds in both predictable and unpredictable
(often uncooperative) ways to human interference and exploitation and which
must be respected as an independent force with inherent value. The first
scientific approach, which denies any subjectivity to nature, is covertly
anthropocentric; it predominates in mainstream, managerial environmentalism but
also lies at the base of many progressive analyses of urban environmental problems.
The second resourcist line of thinking, often embedded in the first approach as
a rationale for looking at the urban environment in the first place, is
blatantly anthropocentric; it is common not only among reform environmentalists
but also in more radical elements of environmentalism including the
environmental justice movement. The third approach, often framed in explicitly
ecocentric terms, seems an improvement (and in many ways is). But in
emphasizing ecological holism it backgrounds interspecific differences among
animals (human and nonhuman), as well as the differences between animate and
inanimate nature, the latter having subjectivity only in the metaphoric sense
or perhaps at the level of atomic particles and other diverse quanta. This view
prevails in many strands of green thought offered by deep ecologists scientific
Gaians, and environmental historians (reacting to the perceived postmodern
relegation of landscape to socially-constructed text). Thus, in most forms of
progressive environmentalism, animals have been either objectified and/or
backgrounded. Thinking like a bat: the question of animal standpoints The recovery of animal
subjectivity implies an ethical and political obligation to redefine the urban
problematic and to consider strategies for urban praxis from the standpoints of
animals. Granting animals subjectivity at a conceptual level is a first step.
Even this is apt to be hotly contested by human social groups who have been
marginalized and devalued by claims that they are "closer to animals"
and hence less intelligent, worthy, or evolved than, say, white males. It may
also run counter to those who interpret the granting of subjectivity as
synonymous with a granting of rights, and object either to rights-type
arguments in general or to animal rights specifically. (A recovery of the
animal subject does not imply that animals have rights although the rights
argument does hinge on the conviction that animals are subjects of a life.) A
more difficult step must be taken if the revalorization of animal subjectivity
is to be meaningful in terms of day-to-day practice. We not only have to
"think like a mountain" but also to "think like a bat"
-somehow overcoming Nagel's classic objection that because bat sonar is not similar
to any human sense, it is humanly impossible to answer a question such as
"what it is like to be a bat?" Is it impossible to think like a bat?
There is a parallel here with the problems raised by standpoint (or
multipositionality) theories of knowledge that assert that a variety of
individual human differences (such as race, class or gender) so strongly shape
experience and thus interpretations of the world, that any suggestion of a
single position marginalizes others. For example, the essentialist category
"woman" silences differences of race, and in so doing allows the dominant
group to create its own master narrative, define a political agenda, and
maintain power. Such polyvocality may lead to a nihilistic relativism and a
paralysis of political action. But the response cannot be to return to
practices of radical exclusion and denial of difference. Instead, we must
recognize that individual humans are embedded in social relations and networks
with people similar or different, and upon whom their welfare depends. This realization
allows for a recognition of kinship but also of difference, since identities
are defined not only through seeing that we are similar to others, but that we
are also different from them. Using what Haraway terms a "cyborg
vision" that allows partial, locatable, critical knowledge sustaining the
possibility of webs of connection called solidarity," we can embrace
kinship as well as difference and encourage the emergence of an ethic of
respect and mutuality, caring and friendship. The webs of kinships and
differences that shape individual identity involve both humans and animals. It
is easy to accept in the abstract that humans depend upon a rich ecology of
animal organisms. But there is also a large volume of archeological,
paleoanthropological, and psychological evidence suggesting that concrete
interactions and interdependence with animal others are indispensable to the
development of human cognition, identity and consciousness, and to a maturity
which accepts ambiguity, difference and lack of control. In short, animals are
not only "good to think" (to borrow a phrase from Levi-Strauss) but
indispensable to learning how to think in the first place, and how to relate to
other people. Who are the relevant animal
others? Unlike Shepard, who maintains that only wild animals play a role in
human ontology, I argue that many sorts of animals matter, including
domesticated animals. Domestication has profoundly altered the intelligence,
senses, and life ways of creatures such as dogs, cows, sheep and horses, so as
to drastically diminish their otherness. So denaturalized, they have come to be
seen as part of human culture. But wild animals have been appropriated and
denaturalized by people too. This is evidenced by the myriad ways wildlife is
commercialized and incorporated into human culture. And like domestic animals,
wild animals can be profoundly impacted by human actions, often leading significant
behavioral adaptations. Ultimately, the division between wild and domestic must
he seen as a permeable social construct; it may be better to conceive of a
matrix of animals who vary with respect to the extent of physical or behavioral
modification due to human intervention, and types of interaction with people.
In such a matrix, animals range from those whose bodies and lifeways remain unaffected
by humans and who have no contact with people (a dwindling number of species),
to those who are built-to-suit and sleep with us under the bedclothes at
night. In other cells of the matrix are a host of more ambiguous and complex
cases - livestock, feral animals, lab animals, the genetically engineered,
pet lizards, turtles or tarantulas, and trout from the fish farm. Our ontological dependency on
animals seems to have characterized us as a species since the Pleistocene.
Human needs for dietary protein, desires for spiritual inspiration and
companionship, and the ever-present possibility of ending up as somebodys
dinner required thinking like an animal. This role of animals in human
development can be used as an (anthropomorphic) argument in defense of wildlife
conservation or pet-keeping. But my concern is how human dependency on was
played out in terms of the patterns of human-animal interactions it
precipitated. Did ontological dependency on animals create an interspecies
ethic of caring and webs of friendship? Without resurrecting a 1990s version of
the Noble Savage - an essentialized indigenous person living in spiritual and
material harmony with nature - it is clear that for most of (pre)history,
people ate wild animals, tamed them, and kept them captive, but also respected
them as kin, friends, teachers, spirits, or gods. Their value lay both in their
similarities with and differences from humans. Not coincidentally, most wild
animal habitats were also sustained. Re-enchanting the city: an agenda to bring the animals back in How can animals play their
integral role in human ontology today? How can ethical responses and political
practices engendered by the recognition of human-animal kinship and difference
be fostered? How can this develop in urban settings where everyday interaction
with so many kinds of animals has been eliminated? In the west, many of us
interact with or experience animals only by keeping captives of a restricted
variety or eating "food" animals sliced into steak, chop and roast.
We get a sense of wild animals only by watching To allow for the emergence of an
ethic, practice and politics of caring for animals and nature, we need to
renaturalize cities and invite the animals back in - and in the process
re-enchant the city. I call this renaturalized,
re-enchanted city zoöpolis. The
reintegration of people with animals and nature in zoöpolis can provide urban
dwellers with the local, situated everyday knowledge of animal life required to
grasp animal standpoints or ways of being in the world, interact with them
accordingly in particular contexts, and motivate political action necessary to
protect their autonomy as subjects and their life spaces. Such knowledge would
stimulate a thorough rethinking of a wide range of urban daily life practices:
not only animal regulation and control practices, but landscaping, development
rates and design, roadway and transportation decisions, use of energy,
industrial toxics and bioengineering -in short, all practices that impact
animals and nature in its diverse forms (e.g., climate, plant life, landforms,
etc.). And, at the most personal level, we might rethink eating habits, since
factory farms are so environmentally destructive in situ, and the western meat: habit radically increases the rate
at which wild habitat is converted to agricultural land worldwide (to say
nothing of how one feels about eating cows, pigs, chickens or fishes once they
are embraced as kin). While based in everyday practice
like the bioregional paradigm, the zoopolis model differs in including animals
and nature in the metropolis rather than relying on an anti-urban spatial fix
like small-scale communalism. It also accepts the reality of global
interdependence rather than opting for autarky. Moreover, unlike deep
ecological visions epistemically tied to a psychologized individualism and
lacking in political-economic critique, urban renaturalization is motivated not
only by a conviction that animals are central to human ontology in ways that
enable the development of webs of kinship and caring with animal subjects, but
that our alienation from animals results from specific political-economic
structures, social relations, and institutions operative at several spatial
scales. Such structures, relations and institutions will not magically change
once individuals recognize animal subjectivity, but will only be altered
through political engagement and struggle against oppression based on class,
race, gender and species. Beyond the city, the zoopolis model serves as a powerful curb on the contradictory and colonizing environmental politics of the west as practiced both in the west itself and as inflicted on other parts of the world. For example, wildlife reserves are vital to prevent species extinction. But because they are "out there," remote from urban life, reserves can do nothing to alter entrenched modes of economic organization and associated consumption practices that hinge on continual growth and make reserves necessary In the first place. The only modes of life that the reserves change of subsistence peoples who suddenly find themselves alienated from their traditional economic base and further immiserated. But an interspecific ethic of caring replaces dominionism to create urban regions where animals are neither incarcerated, killed, nor sent off to live in wildlife prisons but instead are valued neighbors and partners in survival. This ethic links urban residents with peoples elsewhere in the world who have evolved ways of both surviving and sustaining the forests, streams, and diversity of animal Iives, and enjoins their struggles.
Figure
1. A trans-species urban theory. The western myth of a pristine
arcadian wilderness, imposed with imperial impunity on those places held
hostage to the International Monetary Fund and World Bank in league with
powerful international environmental organizations, is trumped by a
post-colonial politics and practice that begins at home with animals in the
city. Ways of Thinking Animals in the
City An agenda for renaturalizing the
city and bringing animals back in should be
developed with an awareness of the impacts of urbanization on animals in
the capitalist city, how urban residents think about and behave toward animal
life, the ecological adaptations made by animals to urban conditions, and
current practices and politics arising around urban animals. The goal is to
understand capitalist urbanization in a globalizing economy and what it means
for animal life; how and why patterns of human-animal interactions change over
time and space; urban animal ecology as science, social discourse, and
political economy; and transspecies urban practice shaped by managerial plans
and grassroots activism. Figure 1 lays out a metatheoretical heuristic device
that links together the disparate discourses of the transpecies urban
problematic. |


