Morally speaking, is a corpse really no different from a cabbage?

In his blog essay, ''Road Kill, Abandoned Eggs, and Dumpster Diving'' (July 2012), Francione maintains that consuming an animal's body parts or products when doing so does not contribute directly to demand for animal products is still ''deeply problematic as a symbolic matter'' because it ''reinforce[s] the idea that animal products are things to consume'' and ''reinforce[s] the idea that animals are things, are human resources...''

That consuming animal products reinforces the notion that animals are commodities is obvious – to vegans. However, what are we to say when educating nonvegans about veganism? What are we to say in a situation that many of us have encountered, or could, in any event, at any time, find ourselves in: a nonvegan, let's call her Susan, asks us what is wrong with eating a chicken who has been struck by lightning, or something of that sort. Of course our initial move may be, why is the chicken there in the first place. In reply, Susan might use the example of a wild animal who has neither been brought into existence nor killed by humans. What's wrong with eating a wild deer who died of natural causes, Susan might say.

To Susan as a nonvegan, we could not reply that eating the deer would be wrong because it would reinforce the notion that animals are commodities, since it could have no persuasive force with her, given her moral beliefs about animals, namely that there is nothing wrong with treating them as resources in the first place. Instead, we could try and make Susan consider whether she would eat, or use for other purposes, her beloved dog or cat when they, in a state of perfect health, had been run over by a car. Or any dog or cat who had come to die that way. Supposing Susan to be willing to be honest with herself, she would likely rule that out of consideration; if not, she would probably wish to deflect what she would uncomfortably experience as a question to which she had no ready reply.

What we would say to Susan is expressed in the aforementioned blog essay, where Francione writes:

Being vegan means that you reject the notion that animals are things for us to consume. They are not commodities; they are not resources. They are not food any more than a human arm that you find in the dumpster. We would never think of eating a human. Humans are moral persons. We don’t eat persons. But nonhumans are persons as well. They have moral value. Their bodies and the products made from them are not things we eat, even if we find them dead along the road way or in a dumpster, or even if they abandon their eggs.

In the ''Twenty Questions (and Answers)'' appendix to Introduction toAnimal Rights. Your Child or the Dog? (2000), Francione replies to question No 10, ''Do nonsentient humans such as those who are irreversibly brain dead have a right not to be treated as things?,'' that such humans ''are really no different from plants, they are alive but they are not conscious and have no interests to protect. According such humans a right not to be treated as the resources of others makes no sense.'' (p. 170)

It can be assumed that the same holds for animals.

But how can humans' and animals' bodies be no different from plants – and not things to eat at the same time?

With respect to rights and interests, there would, indeed, be no difference between a woman, let's call her Ellen, who had suffered severe brain injuries in an accident and had since been in a coma with no hope of recovery, on the one hand, and a mere source of spare parts, on the other. Yet we would not treat a victim of affliction such as Ellen, pitiably languishing in her comatose state, as an mere organ 'donor,' or as an object of biochemical experimentation, and we would not treat her as such even if there were no family or relatives who might oppose the instrumental use of Ellen's body. Why would we not do so? 

We give funerals to our dead and do not eat or otherwise use them as resources, not, at any rate, without the person's prior consent or her legal representative's or legal successor's permission, for the purposes of donating organs or of scientific experimentation. We think of certain ways of treating human corpses, e.g., grave robbing, as desecration. Why?

In her seminal essay, ''Eating Meat and Eating People'' (1978), philosopher Cora Diamond writes:

Now the fact that we do not eat our dead is not a consequence - not a direct one in any event-of our unwillingness to kill people for food or other purposes. It is not a direct consequence of our unwillingness to cause distress to people. Of course it would cause distress to people to think that they might be eaten when they were dead, but it causes distress because of what it is to eat a dead person. (p. 467)

She sees our relationship to companion animals in the same light when she argues that ''a starting point … must be understanding what is involved in such things as our not eating people: no more than our not eating pets does that rest on recognition of the claims of a being simply as one capable of suffering and enjoyment.'' (p. 471) According to Diamond, interests and rights cannot be the foundation of a case against seeing animals as things to eat because interests and rights are not what prevents us from seeing humans as things to eat or otherwise use as resources, either. ''[I]t is not respect for our interests which is involved in our not eating each other.'' (p. 469)

A vegan will not eat any animal, or consume any animal products, because of what it would mean to do it. The meaning of it would not be changed if the animal's death had not been caused by humans, nor if eating her had no effect of demand. Some vegans claim that they wouldn't do it merely out of squeamishness. But then, why did they not feel squeamish before they became vegan? The aesthetic disgust supervenes on our recognition of what it means to do it, specified as its being, in some sense or other, wrong.

Giving funerals to our dead, and giving names to our children rather than numbering them, are, Diamond argues, ''ways in which we mark what a human life is'' and which ''belong to the source of moral life. (p. 471)

Let's leave aside here the practice of giving funerals to our dead as a practice inextricably intertwined with legal requirements and having partly or potentially controversial cultural and religious connotations. Let's think of our beloved companion animals. When they die, most people, vegans and nonvegans, bury or cremate them; and their doing so is not the outcome of any process of reflection on whether they should treat their bodies in other ways, such as chopping them up and feeding them to carnivores in order to diminish the demand for nonvegan pet food. Most people would not treat a dead stray dog's or feral cat's body in that way, either.

We deeply grieve the loss of our animal companions. A fellow vegan, Andreas, lay beside his cat Michelle, who was fatally ill, the day she died. He kept laying beside her until the next morning, tenderly stroking her; then he carefully covered her with a pillow case, carried her into the garden and buried her under a cherry tree. To do this was extremely important to him; had he not been able to, it would have caused him distress – on top of his grief. Why? Andreas' treating the dead Michelle thus reflected his love for her, and he felt, we would suggest, that in doing it he "did right by her." However, while his acting that way prevented him from experiencing distress, this was not the reason for it; he did it not for his sake, but for Michelle's.

What sense can be made of this from an interests / rights perspective? Just to be clear, we are in no way questioning how anyone grieves for their dead companion animals, but whether animal rights ideology can be said to yield a plausible explanation of it. We had an animal advocate tell us, when her dog died, that she cremated him because doing so made her feel better – but that this was, strictly speaking, irrational – as an attempt to "hold on" to him. Now, what would it mean to truly believe that our treating our dead animal companions differently from plants or inanimate objects is irrational? If one did believe it, would this not neutralize the effect of psychological relief, which depends for its consoling power on one's really believing it - somewhat as a delusion has an effective influence on one's thinking only to the extent that one does not realize that it is actually a delusion? We find it hard to imagine that one could make oneself feel better by doing something that was inconsistent with what one sincerely professed to believe, especially when it concerns grieving for loved ones. When we grieve for them, after all, should we not be concerned to grieve lucidly, lest we should besmirch their memory? Perhaps it is not what we profess to believe, however sincerely, but how we actually act - when the latter is generally inconsistent with the former - that is the definitive expression of what we really believe.

As for the idea that cremating or burying our dead is an attempt to "hold on" to them, with all respect to whomever may hold it, we think it is at best an overstrained interpretation to give to such action. We think it can much more plausibly be interpreted, not as consoling us by sustaning the illusion that we are somehow "holding on to" the dead, but, on the contrary, as enabling us to let go of them: an act of irretrievable separation in which we would feel pangs of guilt or betrayal were it not for our sense of doing right by them at the end, that is, by cremating or burying them, in what is the final act we can, and will, ever do for them.  

Cora Diamond criticizes Singer's and Regan's philosophical theories on the grounds that the discussion about interests and rights do not have the conceptual resources required to characterize an animal as the kind of being who is not something to eat [1]: ''[T]here is nothing in the discussion which suggests that a cow is not something to eat; it is only that one must not help the process along... '' (p. 468)

In our understanding, Diamond's critique, while referring to Singer and Regan, applies all the same to Francione in that the point of it is not to critique theories that require empirical properties and capacities beyond sentience for moral significance; it is rather to highlight the inadequacy of any theory that seeks to determine what humans (or animals) are solely by reference to their empirical characteristics. To date, her critique has not, to our knowledge, been responded to, much less refuted, by any proponent of the interests / rights approach to animal ethics.

What the bodies of our dead loved ones are as a moral matter cannot be determined in a detached scientific manner, solely by whether they possess any "morally relevant empirical properties and capacities." Indeed, we can agree with Francione's claim that corpses have no interests [1], and therefore no rights either, quite consistently with the recognition that corpses are nonetheless altogether different, morally speaking, from cabbages. To be sure, in terms of interests and rights, no morally relevant difference between a corpse and a cabbage can be identified. Yet the former can be treated in ways the latter cannot, at least not intelligibly. As in the above example of Andreas and Michelle, many of us may recall our caressing the dead but still soft body of a beloved dog or cat, rabbit, rat, or other companion animal. More generally, what the bodies of our dead loved ones are is "more an object of contemplation than observation" (Diamond), and can perhaps be best thought of as ''a unity of the given and the constructed''[2]. Here the given is the human form; the constructed, the tender, caressing responses made possible – invited, as one could put it - by it.    

In a documentary about Aids that we watched recently, a man related how he lost his lover, disclosing that when his beloved was alive, he used to brush his hair. When his lover had died, he did not cease to be for him an object of tender affection, which he expressed in what was a poignant, unaffected way: he once again brushed his lover's hair. We can respond tenderly to our dead as we can to the unborn, irrespective of their status as sentient, and the possibility of responding in such ways yields to us our sense of the radical difference in kind between the bodies of our dead loved ones and what a woman carries when she is pregnant, her unborn child, on the one hand, and mere inanimate objects, on the other; it marks a morally relevant difference between them and whatever cannot be the intelligible objects of such responses. Diamond notes that ''[i]t is a mark of the shallowness of these discussions [of animal rights] ..that the only tool used in them to explain what differences in treatment are justified is the appeal to the capacities of the beings in question.''

In his seminal book Good And Evil: An Absolute Conception (2004 [first published in 1991]), philosopher Raimond Gaita, another deeply insightful critic of the interests / rights approach, writes:

Women sometimes love their unborn children. Some people wonder whether that is sentimental because they wonder whether what a woman carries when she is pregnant is an appropriate object of love. They will say that to describe it as I have, as her love for her 'unborn child' is to beg a lot of questions. They will say that we must first, as objectively as possible, understand what the 'status' of the foetus is, so that we may determine whether is is properly called a child and also to determine whether it is an appropriate object of love . (…)

It is important that the child grows in its mother's body, that her body changes with its growth, and that these changes can appear to us as beautiful, for this provides a focus for love's tenderness without which there could be no love. A foetus growing in a glass jar on her mantelpiece, with many of its 'morally relevant empirical properties' in plain view, could not be an object of her love, for her love could find no tender expression (which is not to say that a serious concern could find no expression). Or perhaps, more accurately, it could not if that were a general practice in a community. The pleasure of a woman with child at the changes in her body is the opposite of narcissism. It's the expression of her love for her child, and the possibility of such expression is a condition of that love. (…)

Suppose someone were to point to a foetus growing in a glass jar and to ask, rhetorically, how could it be called a child? His rhetorical tone would be partly justified, but mostly not. He would be right to suggest that we could not, that we would at least find it difficult, but he would be wrong in what he thought that showed. Those for whom it is natural to speak of a woman as 'big with child' do not mean that she had been caused to grow by something they believed or conjectured to be a growing child, but which turns out to be the same kind of thing as is growing in the jar. 'Big with child' (in this way of speaking) does not mean: caused to grow big by something that belongs to the natural kind Homo sapiens, and which might, or might not, have the relevant properties to be grouped along with paradigmatic exemplars of the word 'child'. If we ask what, in that case, she is big with, then it would not be wrong to say that she was big with child. But the sense of that is given by the use of the expression as a whole ('big with child'), and by the kind of place it has, because of its echoes and resonances, in certain ways of speaking in a certain culture. The phrase 'with child' is not detachable from 'big with child' in the way it would need to be for someone who says that it is an arguable matter whether she is big with (a) child. By way of contrast we may say.(pp. 119 f.)

Gaita argues that a woman's love for her unborn child is, for her, "the kind of love that makes abortion impossible. We might want to add that it makes it morally, not psychologically, impossible.'' (p. 121) Gaita writes, ''I do not think that we can understand her finding it morally impossible to kill a foetus (consider the impossibility of her saying 'my foetus' in the tone in which she may say 'my child') except insofar as that is implicitly redescribed.'' (ibid.)

Footnotes

[1] The claim that corpses that have no conscious interests is of course (banally) true.

[2] G. W. F. Hegel, The Phenomenology of Mind.

Gary Francione vs. Robert Garner: What does it mean to have a debate?

Putting aside matters of moral theory, as a practical matter, welfare reform simply does not work. (The Animal Rights Debate: Abolition or Regulation? (2010), p. 26) 

While this has always been Francione's position, on his blog he writes (in the "Necessity of Theory" [2010]):

Try as you will, you cannot avoid theory. You can only choose a theory of equality or choose to accept the dominant theory of welfare, which assumes that animal life is of lesser moral value.

But choose you must and your activism will necessarily be informed by the choice that you make.

This choice has the following implication:

If we agree with Bentham and Singer and with the dominant theory of animal welfare, then we promote welfare reform; we promote “cage-free” eggs; we promote consuming chickens who have been gassed rather than electrocuted; we support “happy” meat/dairy labels; we promote “flexitarianism” and view veganism simply as a way of reducing suffering. If we don’t support that theoretical view, and if, instead, we regard all sentient beings as having equal moral value for the purposes of not being used as a resource, then we promote veganism as a non-negotiable moral baseline.

This clear division is exemplified in the debate between Gary Francione and Robert Garner.

Garner who maintains the position of "animal protectionism'' holds that animals have a right not to suffer (not to have suffering inflicted on them by humans), regardless of the benefits that humans would gain from using them. This position, he argues, is distinct from a welfarist one, which balances the interests of animals in not suffering against the interests of humans in using animals. He agrees, however, with the welfarist notion that animals don't have an interest in being used (exclusively as means to human ends, that is, as property), which means they don't have an interest in their life, or at least not in the same way as humans do. Therefore, their lives are of less moral value than those of humans.

Garner thinks that the animals' property status ''is not inconsistent with protecting [their] interest not suffering'' (p. 236), that ''the use of animals does not necessarily infringe [their] interest in not suffering'' (ibid.), and that welfare reform ''is moving incrementally toward the recognition of the right of animals not to suffer in unacceptable ways.''(p. 176) He is, however, unable to identify what form of animal use would constitute a morally acceptable level of suffering. He concedes that, ''[w]hether suffering can be reduced to the point where my ethical principle is satisfied is an open question.'' (p. 238 f.) It is pretty clear that Garner's principle of ''acceptable suffering'' does not differ in any way from the common welfarist notion of ''unnecessary suffering,'' the advantages of which he identifies as ''its flexibility and its compatibility with widely accepted norms.'' (p. 250)

Garner calls into question Francione's point that welfare reform increases the efficiency of animal exploitation, when he asks, ''Is it in fact the case that only those reforms that increase efficiency of animal exploitation will ever be considered and introduced?,'' calling this ''an empirical question'' – as though Francione's work had not provided the theoretical and empirical answer to this question.

At the same time, Garner does not see a problem with welfare reform causing animals to be exploited more efficiently and, thereby, reinforcing the property paradigm: on the contrary, he not only sees a ''potential for making economic efficiency more compatible with animal welfare,'' (p. 209) but also thinks it ''possible to equate economic efficiency with high standards of animal welfare'' (ibid.), which he sees as low levels of suffering.

While Garner's defence of animal welfarism appears logically incoherent, it derives directly from his claims about the moral status of animals, which is fundamentally opposed to Francione's. If animals do not have an interest in their lives, or if such an interest does not equal an interest in not being used, not being treated as resources, property, then animal use is not inherently wrong. And if animal use is not inherently wrong, neither is anything that makes animal exploitation more economically efficient and profitable; neither is fund-raising for campaigns that create a ''win-win-win situation'' for producers, consumers, and animal advocacy groups. Regarding the latter, Garner ''[does] not hold the view that animal organizations are more interested in their own financial position than in the welfare of animals.'' (p.264 f.) Given his confidence regarding not only the compatibility but equation of economic profit for humans and benefit for animals, Garner would be compelled to wish for animal organizations to be in as strong a financial position as possible.

Given that, as Francione maintains, ''veganism not only respects animal life but also reduces suffering more effectively through reducing demand for animal products, one would think that even a utilitarian would urge veganism as having a greater benefit than, say, promoting a welfarist reform...'' (p. 71) One would think that even someone who does not think that using animals for human purposes is inherently wrong would nevertheless acknowledge that allowing animals to be used means allowing them to be subjected to all kinds and levels of suffering; that even if one does not believe that animals have an interest in continuing to live, if they take animals' interest in not suffering seriously, they would have to be committed to opposing all animal use. However, as Francione notes, ''welfarists, including Singer, do not seem to accept this analysis.'' (ibid.) To understand why they don't, one needs to consider the following:

(A) Referring to so-called marginal humans, Garner states that ''their capacity to suffer would be qualitatively different, as would be the quality of their lives'' (p. 195 f.) from that of ''normal adult humans.'' That's why, for Garner, there is nothing morally wrong with using ''marginal humans'' as forced organ donors, although ''their lives should be sacrificed only when to do so is to save the lives of normal adult humans,'' (p. 197) and under the provision that ''if forcing such an individual caused suffering, it would not be legitimate morally'' (ibid.) The analogy, though not explicit, is clear: What, for Garner, ''marginal humans'' have in common with nonhuman animals is that their lives do not matter morally as much as those of ''normal adult humans'' because ''they have less to lose by death'' (p. 197). Garner claims that ''nonhuman animals do have an interest in not suffering that is equivalent to humans.'' (p.187 f.) But if a being's life does not matter sufficiently to make using her as a resource morally unacceptable, then her suffering cannot provide a sufficient reason for not using her in that way. Garner rejects the analogy of animal exploitation with human slavery, but his moral consideration of animals equals that of a slave owner who wants slaves to be treated ''humanely,''' while finding it unintelligible that slavery itself constitutes an injustice. The suffering Garner seeks to alleviate is that of slaves, whereas the suffering Francione seeks to abolish is the suffering of equals, beings equal for the purpose of having an interest in not being slaves.

Someone who does not see animal use as inherently morally wrong cannot consistently advocate abolition; they would not support abolition even if they believed it to be the only way of reducing animal suffering because it would require them to see and treat animals as having a moral status that they believe cannot intelligibly be applied to them. An analogy may be helpful. Imagine a slave owner who deplored cruelty done to slaves. Then he would support efforts to reduce the suffering of slaves if they did not also incrementally lead to abolition; but not otherwise: for then such efforts would not result in reduced suffering merely, but would also at the same time spread beyond it in what would be for him the unmerited realization of equality. Equality between white people and black people would not be written off by the slaveowner as unwanted but acceptable 'collateral damage' incidental to his goal of reducing slaves' suffering. For this would mean according those whom he sees as less than fully human a status that can with moral propriety be accorded to whites only. This would appear to his racist narrowness as an affront to the value of whites. No slave owner would support the inherent value of slaves for such an instrumental reason.

(B) There are people who go vegan because they think this the best way of reducing suffering but not because they think veganism is a moral imperative. Someone who does not see veganism as a moral imperative also cannot support promoting veganism as a moral baseline of animal advocacy. In any event, someone who is not even a vegan simply cannot, given his moral beliefs. Near the end of the debate, Francione asks Garner whether he is a vegan, adding: ''I realize that whether you are or not has no bearing on the validity of your arguments.'' (p. 257) Garner's answer indicates that he does not eschew all animal products. This has no bearing on the validity on his arguments; it does, however, have a bearing on why he does not accept Francione's arguments in that since he is not vegan, he has a vested interest in not being impressed with abolitionist arguments. The same holds for those who, not consuming animal products themselves, run or support businesses whose economic subsistence relies on their making people feel better about consuming animal products.

Welfarists do not support veganism as a moral imperative and as a baseline of animal advocacy, not because they don't believe it to be the best, or only, way of achieving abolition, but rather precisely because it is best the way. They are all for reducing animal suffering – to the extent that it does not come ''at the cost'' of abolition; the ''costs to humans of abolition,'' as Garner puts it, ''might outweigh the costs to animals'' of continued animal use (p. 185) In other words, to someone who does not want abolition, there is simply no alternative to supporting welfare reform, even if they are not entirely satisfied with welfare campaigns.

In order for opposing views to be discussable, the discussion must be based on some common ground. What The Animal Rights Debate: Abolition or Regulation? paradigmatically shows is that between the position that using animals is morally acceptable, as long as we respect their interest in not suffering ''unacceptably,'' and the position that animal use per se cannot be morally justified, regardless of the level of suffering involved, aiming at reducing suffering cannot serve as a 'lowest common denominator','' does not constitute the common ground on which a discussion about strategy could take place. Garner misses the point completely when he states, ''[i]t is at the strategic level that our views differ,'' (p. 256), or speaks of ''the paradigm shift that we both would like to see'' (p. 214), or of ''the long term goal of both of us'' (p. 235). There simply is no shared goal; and when Garner denies that welfare reform is counterproductive, he is right, in any event when referring to his own goal, that of continued animal use involving an ''acceptable'' level of animal suffering – 'humane' exploitation -- though not of course when referring to Francione's goal, abolition, to which welfare reform is indeed counterproductive.

As for there being no common ground, Francione and Garner do not even agree on basic standards of human ethics, given Garner's view that it is morally acceptable to ''sacrifice'' 'marginal humans, to use them as organ donors for the benefit of ''normal adult humans'' (p. 197). In his very first blog entry in November 2006, Francione had this to say referring to Peter Singer:

Singer...thinks that it would be appropriate to use severely mentally disabled humans in this situation because it would be speciesist to prefer nonhumans over what he views as similarly situated humans. So, right from the outset, Singer promotes a view that is completely at odds not only with the animal rights position but with commonly held principles of human rights and, indeed, is who used “defective” humans in experiments.

As of Singer, so likewise of Garner is it true that he promotes a view that is completely at odds not only with the animal rights position but with commonly held principles of human rights.

Given this, the primary task of a debate on abolition vs. regulation should, in our view, have been to focus exclusively on an exploration of its ethical foundation, i.e., the participants' irreconcilable views on the moral status of animals (and humans). For if Francione and Garner had done that, instead of talking at crossed-purposes over "strategy," it would have enabled readers to understand why they can but differ diametrically according to their respective ideological positions in their assessments of welfare reform, welfare campaigns, and the role animals' property status plays in institutionalized exploitation - an ideological division which, in its implications for animal advocacy, could not be more profound.

For any serious (not only academic) debate to be worthy of the name, it is paramount that all participants argue in good faith and adhere to certain intellectual standards, that is, to show intellectual and - given what is at stake – moral seriousness. Neither of these requirements are, we think, fulfilled on Garner's side.

1. Garner characterizes Francione's position using pejorative terms, while claiming improbably enough to use them in a non-pejorative --''neutral'' – sense: terms such as ''fundamentalist'' and ''moral crusade''; and he grossly misrepresents that position, in a way that cannot easily be accounted for by any ordinary lapse in judgement, when he suggests that ''if we accept your view that to support welfare reforms is to make abolitionist objectives more difficult to achieve, then you must logically resist those reforms that might reduce suffering,'' (p. 231), that ''[t]he logic of this position is that if this horrendous suffering were reduced .. people would not give up animal products altogether'' (p. 232), and so, even if an effective welfare reform were introduced... you would still be reluctant to accept it because it would make your long-term goal (the abolition of the use of animals) less likely'' (p. 233). This is a slightly more sophisticated version of the likewise disingenuous accusation quite commonly raised by supporters of welfarism against abolitionists that the latter want animals to suffer as much as possible - according to the logic, the more animal suffering, the sooner abolition will be achieved.

2. Although Garner acknowledges the weakness of his position, that it provides no guidance, no criteria for determining whether, or which level of, suffering incidental to animal use is morally acceptable, he does not see this weakness as posing a challenge to his approach, much less as defeating it: he thinks instead that the problem can be resolved by leaving it to ''advocates of a position such as [his] .. to work this out with greater clarity.'' (p. 203) In other words, although Garner is unable to defend his claims, he does not see this as a reason for reconsidering them. Also, perhaps in a sense not surprisingly, given that he cannot defend it, he trades away, like a bargaining chip, what is ''ethically more desirable'' for what according to his lights is politically advantageous: ''I think the enhanced sentience position is probably ethically more desirable. Politically or strategically, however, I would probably opt for the sentience position.'' (p. 201) For us the ethical determines the political, whereas for Garner, the reverse obtains such that his political commitment to welfarism determines his "ethical position," which changes, promiscuously, according as it does not serve that reactionary agenda.

Far from offering any serious criticism of the abolitionist approach, Garner merely attempts to discredit it using whatever expedient is at hand, so as to give some semblance of legitimacy to corporate welfarism. This may be seen, not only but especially from the following: Garner, while giving the impression that his position is determined by his recognition of the soundness of his arguments, does not even modify that position when, as we have said, in the face of Francione's criticism he cannot marshal any defence; instead delegating the task of doing so to others. Here one catches a glimpse of the purely political character of Garner's opposition to abolition: it is an opposition that, unamenable to rational correction, can on that account be said to be not so much determined by his arguments as merely rationalized by them. That is, perhaps, the deepest reason why no debate took place in the debate book; for a genuine debate, as opposed to its false semblances, presupposes that both parties are, at least in principle, open to modifying their positions if in the light of criticism they are shown to be deficient. And accordingly we should not be so naïve as to be shocked by Garner's misrepresentation, which, when no debate took place, could be expected to follow almost as a corollary.

The question naturally arises how an academic can violate basic standards of intellectual propriety - in this case, by grossly misrepresenting the work of another scholar – with secure impunity. The answer, we suggest, lies in Garner's representing a position – welfarism - in which almost everyone has an interest, economic, social, or professional: from animal industry itself and its economic offshoots to consumers of animal products to welfarist organizations, and so on. This unity of interests, ranged against abolitionism, supplies in effect a special exemption from criticism for welfarist academics who distort and misrepresent abolitionist theory, often so grossly that the resulting impudent counterfeit would, were it of a mainstream theory, be seen as amounting to ideological defamation.

The motivation for academics to defend welfarism, invariably by means of pseudo-intellectual erudition, may be seen from the effects it has. It means, as we have said, justifying the status quo, which, in return for their corrupt fidelity, duly rewards them, for example, with career advancement, advisory positions with welfarist organizations, invitations of speak at ''animal rights'' conferences bringing with it celebrity status in the welfarist movement; or even merely with praise, much easier to elicit for oneself when one supports rather than rejects the dominant paradigm, and enticing, at least to those who crave blandishments, however supremely insincere in the end, for their academic work which, having no merit in and of itself, would otherwise languish in undignified obscurity.

Conclusion

It is unfortunate that however unintentionally, the debate book co-authored by Francione and Garner feeds into the misconception that the disagreements between them are strategic rather than ethical in character. Serious discussions on movement strategy can take place only between members of one and the same movement, not between proponents of opposing movements, such as the welfarist and the abolitionist ones. Serious criticism of abolitionism can only come from allies, that is, fellow abolitionists.