Cover image by Tommaso Ausili from the series Hidden Death
The Australian PhotoJournalist
EXECUTIVE EDITORIAL
If you live long enough you will have a moment when an action observed defines humanity. For the lucky, it’s a moment of compassion when an act of kindness seems so unexpected, so brave and sacrificial that simply by standing and observing it you understand instantly the lyrical waxing of the poets, artists and writers throughout time. How I wanted my moment to be that. But it wasn’t. It was in a darkened room watching the documentary Earthlings. Over and over again Shaun Monson skillfully blended the wanton greed of large agribusinesses with the callous disregard of consumers. For what seems an eternity, unspeakable cruelty to animals through farming, entertainment and medical practices are flashed on screen, and outside of Monson, no one spoke up. But in amongst this horror there was a moment in the film I can’t shake. A moment when four men in white lab coats wheeled a large domestic pig tied to a gurney out into a car park and began to burn it with blowtorches. I’m certain the pig was anesthetized, for it was a medical experiment and it lay there as they moved up and down scorching its very being. And then they stopped. The camera still running, they stood not
knowing what to do next. The pig reduced to Christmas crackling pants. One of the men bent forward and offered the pig a drink. As I watched the pig drink, unaware that its savior was its killer, I understood the Holocaust, the killing fields, the Rwanda Genocide, the millenniums of bloodshed and our schizophrenic ability to love a dog and torture a cow. I understood what JM Coetzee meant when he argued in The Lives of Animals, that while humans are capable of great empathy, that empathy can be turned off at will. And it is this ability that blackens our soul.
There is a YouTube clip of a calf being farmed for its veal who, once rescued, becomes a domestic pet on a rescue farm. It has no bounds. It walks into the house, grazes on whatever food is about and is pampered by its rescuers. It is brushed and patted and played with. And when the rescuer calls to her menagerie that it is time for a walk, the cow actually jumps for joy and runs with the pack. Until I saw this video, I had never seen a cow play. To know it can feel such delight is to know what it is that we have stolen. To take away the joy of life is a far greater evil than taking away the life itself.
The numbers are incomprehensible. Over sixty billion land animals tortured and slaughtered for profit each year. The billions of tons of steak, chicken, lamb that are farmed cheaply, harvested callously and kept at the ready so we can buy burgers, drumsticks and ribs on demand. And as the level of cruelty increases so too do the astronomical profits of the livestock industries, profits that belie their bleating rhetoric of better farming practices needed to feed a hungry world. But in all this insanity, what I fear most is how black our souls have become allowing this to occur and yet saying nothing.
So what does this mean? Should we become vegans, swear off meat and dairy and treat our fellow sentient beings with respect and kindness? In an ideal world, yes unequivocally so! But this is not an ideal world and we are creatures full of hubris and folly. But we could start with small steps. If we eat meat, buy leather goods, drink milk, we could ask whether this meat is free range, leather humanely harvested, milk from dairies that don’t kill poddy calves. After mastering the small steps the bigger ones become easy. And as we once again walk upright, maybe the moments we experience that define us will be those moments that brighten our souls. Give it a try. David Lloyd Executive Editor
EDITORIAL
Will future generations look back with disgust at our treatment of animals? In a world of apathy, the cries of mismanaged commercially farmed animals, animals used in experimentation, and animals exploited for their entertainment value largely go unheard. Yet, increasingly, we cannot escape the reality that we are at war: at war with each other, as well as with every living form on this planet. And, as the casualties grow, the most obvious victims will ultimately be ourselves. Over the years, there has been much debate within the APJ’s editorial boardroom as to whether to dedicate an issue to animal rights. We know that poverty affects 80 percent of the world’s population, and domestic violence 50 percent. This year, 140 million children will die before the age of five, yet, despite this horror, most of us survive. However, no animal commercially farmed will survive, and this year over 60 billion animals will be inhumanely farmed and slaughtered. The horror endured by the voiceless, regardless of their species, is an issue that needs to be addressed. One is not a more significant or greater tragedy than
the other. The question thus became not whether an issue should be dedicated to animal rights, but why it has taken us this long to address this ongoing holocaust. Every farm animal born is silenced within the first few weeks or months of its existence. In the journal you are now holding, every featured animal has already been silenced. Farming has dramatically changed over the last forty years. While meat production and consumption has increased greatly, the number of meat producers has dropped dramatically. The idealistic images of what farming looks like are no longer accurate. Animals farmed today are regarded merely as units of production, forced to produce as much food as possible in the shortest amount of time. These animals are brutally mutilated, crammed into cages, and denied food and water for prolonged periods of time. All so that meat, eggs, and milk are readily and cheaply available. With a staggering number of land animals being slaughtered annually for meat, the stories portrayed throughout this journal are merely the tip of the iceberg. We would like to thank our generous
contributors, both in image and text, who kindly gave us their stories so that we could share them with you. In addition, many thanks to Voiceless, the animal-protection institute. This Australian organisation has collaborated with Griffith University to provide the funds necessary to print this edition. By giving voice to the animals who met their fate with an undignified and untimely death, we can begin to hear their screams as they endure this unjustifiable cruelty. The editorial team, passionate about sharing the plight of the modern animal, made Unsustainable Cruelty possible. Through researching issues behind this journal, and compiling the stories from our contributors, we now know too much not to act. We can no longer claim ignorance and remain passive. By reading this journal, neither can you. Louise Wright Editor
FOREWORD
The title of this book, Unsustainable Cruelty, is a fascinating combination of words. The word ‘unsustainable’ is most often used in the context of environmental degradation. We are quick to act on environmental issues when it is clear our immediate health or welfare will be affected, or even those of our ‘next generations’. Stopping unsustainable environmental practices that interfere with the quality of our air, water, soil, oceans and forests, although altruistic, is also a rational and logical response of self-preservation. But with ‘cruelty’, this is not the case. Witnessing violent, ruthless deeds impacts us in a completely different way. Our outrage is not self-serving, as arguably, it does not help us to be kind. Sadly, many a cruel person has been blessed with health, power and success. But for most humans, we recoil at the concept of cruelty and strive towards a state of goodness. We applaud kindness, selflessness, generosity and helping those who are vulnerable. We laud leaders who practice and inspire compassion… The Dalai Lama, Abraham Lincoln, Mandela, Gandhi, to name a few. More and more we expect those values in our communities, and elected leaders.
So how can cruelty be unsustainable? The images in this book are shocking in their horror, in their wanton brutality. The acts are inflicted on our most vulnerable, our most voiceless. They take place under veils of secrecy, in places that most never visit, see or speak of…in the abattoirs, trucks, factory farms… It is hard to even look at them. And that is why the practices they represent, practices that are currently legal and endorsed by courts of law and by government, are unsustainable. Because they are at odds with the societies that we strive to build, those which are founded on values of goodness. We cannot continue to co-exist with cruelty. To knowingly allow it to occur, even in darkness or behind closed doors. And although the images in this book are shocking, we must not turn away. We must force ourselves to look, to see and finally… to act. Ondine Sherman Voiceless Ondine Sherman is Co-Founder and Joint Managing Director of Voiceless, the animal protection institute.
The Australian PhotoJournalist Vol 17 No 1 ISSN 1323-9007 ISBN 978-1-922216-20-5 Š 2013 The Australian PhotoJournalist (APJ) is the journal of the Centre for Documentary Practice. The views expressed are not necessarily those of the Editorial Board. The work is subject to copyright. Copyright of all images is owned by the artists. Copyright of the text is owned jointly by the writer and the APJ. Copyright of all other material including graphics is owned by the APJ. All rights are reserved. For any kind of reproduction or use, in whole or part, permission of the copyright owner must be obtained. Australian PhotoJournalist Queensland College of Art Griffith University PO Box 3370, South Bank Queensland 4101 Australia Telephone +61 7 3735 3168 mail@photojournalist.com.au www.cdp.edu.au
Publisher Octivium Press Executive Editor David Lloyd Issue Editor Louise Wright Past Issue Editors Erin Burnett Raphaela Rosella Associate Editor Angela Blakely Text Editor Kirilee Barker Evie Franzidis Production Manager Alan Hill
Editorial Board Erin Burnett Lachlan Gardiner Daniel Mulheran Raphaela Rosella Lindsay Varvari Louise Wright Designers Meaghan Bailey, Christyn Schneider and Herbey Wagner at Liveworm Studio, Queensland College of Art, Griffith University Creative Director David Sargent Printer Pegasus Print Group
Administrator Earle Bridger
Paper Stock Printed on 350/150gsm Sovereign Silk paper supplied by KW Doggett Fine Paper
Administrative Coordinator Jacqui Hancox
Thank you to Contributing photographers & their representative agencies
While Voiceless has provided financial assistance in connection with this Project, it does not necessarily endorse the views expressed nor does it guarantee the accuracy or completeness or legality of the material provided.
CONTENTS
8 KELLY HUSSEY-SMITH Caged Introduction by Raphaela Rosella 26 RAFAL MILACH Life After Death Introduction by Daniel Mulheran 38 TOMMASO AUSILI Hidden Death Introduction by Louise Wright 54 DAVE JORDANO Duck Blinds Introduction by Lindsay Varvari 66 DIETER TELEMANS Meat is Murder Introduction by Lindsay Varvari 82 FRANK NOELKER Chimp Portraits Introduction by Lindsay Varvari
96 JONATHAN SAFRAN FOER Eating Animals is Making us Sick 02 MARY SHANNON JOHNSTONE 1 Breeding Ignorance Introduction by Louise Wright 18 DAVID CHANCELLOR 1 Hunted, Hunters and Cases Introduction by Louise Wright 42 PETER SINGER 1 Ethics and Animals: Extending Ethics Beyond Our Own Species 48 BRIAN SKERRY 1 Global Fisheries Introduction by Lindsay Varvari 60 CHARLIE MAHONEY 1 The Last Bullring Introduction by Lachlan Gardiner 70 MARK LEONG 1 Asia’s Wildlife Trade Introduction by Lachlan Gardiner
84 MATT EICH 1 Trouble in the Water Introduction by Daniel Mulheran 194 CHRIS DE BODE Testlab – Pro Cons Introduction by Lindsay Varvari 06 CHRIS JORDAN 2 Midway: Message from the Gyre Introduction by Lachlan Gardiner 24 ED WRAY 2 Monkey Town Introduction by Raphaela Rosella 2 38 BIOGRAPHIES
THE AUSTRALIAN PHOTOJOURNALIST 8
KELLY HUSSEY-SMITH Introduction by Raphaela Rosella
Confined to a room, put on display, slowly driven insane. Days pacing in circles, 6 x 4 x 6. Transformed, a spectacle, an object, a decoration, an example of my kind.
K ELLY HU SSE Y-SM I T H
C AG E D
I NT R O DU CT IO N BY R AP H AE L A RO SE LL A
Overweight, exhausted, cries of disappointment, silence my screams. No privacy, reduced to nothing, constantly rocking, Back and forth Back and forth Back and forth Constantly reminded, a life caged.
Caged is a response to how we use animals for entertainment and decoration. The work recognises an animal’s sentience and ability to feel.
Chimpanzee Istanbul Zoo, Turkey Cage Dimensions: 10 x 6 x 5m Natural Habitat: Mostly found in rainforests and wet savannas. While they spend a lot of time on land, they feed and sleep in trees. Lifespan in the Wild: 40–45 years Lifespan in Captivity: Up to 60 years
Common Squirrel Monkey Alma Park Zoo, Australia Cage Dimensions: 6 x 3 x 4m Natural Habitat: Tropical rainforests and tropical dry forests in South and Central America Lifespan in the Wild: Up to 20 years Lifespan in Captivity: Up to 20 years
Toucan Beijing Zoo, China Cage Dimensions: 6 x 4.5 x 6m Natural Habitat: Tropical and Subtropical forests in South America. Toucans are social animals and travel in flocks Lifespan in the Wild: Up to 20 years Lifespan in Captivity: 15–20 years
Asian Elephant Hangzhou Zoo, China Cage Dimensions: 10 x 6 x 6m Natural Habitat: Forests, adjoining grasslands, and scrub in Asia Lifespan in the Wild: 70 years Lifespan in Captivity: 20–60 years
Cotton-Top Tamarin Zoo Melaka, Malaysia Cage Dimensions: 3 x 4 x 3m Natural Habitat: Humid tropical forests, dry deciduous forests, and secondary growth forests in North West Colombia Lifespan in the Wild: 13–16 years Lifespan in Captivity: Up to 25 years
South China Tiger Beijing Zoo, China Cage Dimensions: 4.5 x 7 x 4.5m Natural Habitat: Dense rainforests close to water Lifespan in the Wild: Up to 15 years Lifespan in Captivity: 15–20 years
Raccoon Zoo Negara, Malaysia Cage Dimensions: 4m x 4m x 4m Natural Habitat: Dense forests in North America with access to water Lifespan in the Wild: 2–5 years Lifespan in Captivity: Up to 20 years