This was unfortunate, but a no-brainer. Of course Harambe had to be put down. The boy's life was potentially threatened, and human life must always take precedence over animal life.
Following the incident, vigils for Harambe were held by animal rights groups and animal lovers, many of whom raised questions about the decision to kill the animal. A tranquilizer might have proven a suitable alternative to lethal force, they argued. But the zoo has stood by its decision. Harambe had physical possession of the child, and what he might have done in the agonizing seconds between having a painful dart shot into his rump and that dart taking effect is anyone's guess.
For a while, there were people pointing blame at the mother, for losing track of her child long enough for him to find his way into the enclosure in the first place. But naw, that complaint came straight from the helicopter parent crowd - the nosy kind of people who are all too quick to "call social services!" if they see anything amiss in their neighborhood, who can't sleep at night knowing all the world doesn't live and think like they do. Their purported vigilance is actually scrutiny, of a harsh variety that has always done damage, but in the age of social media can turn downright devastating in an instant. The welfare of children is everyone's concern, no question, but often there is a fine line between what constitutes poor parenting, and what 'parent police' THINK constitutes poor parenting. I was relieved when it was announced no charges would be brought against the mother. She's got to live with this near-miss tragedy, and her role in it, for the rest of her life. I truly don't think she'll be losing track of any of her children again. I hope not, anyway.
In my opinion, blame should be directed first and foremost at the Cincinnati Zoo. Really, how the hell did a 3-year-old child FIND his way into the enclosure? How was that even possible? How was a fence or guard rail ever put in place to separate humans from apes that a toddler could overcome? Who the hell designed it?
But I'll take things a step further. Maybe, just maybe, a 450 pound Western Lowland gorilla, native to Africa, shouldn't be living in an enclosure in Cincinnati, Ohio.
In the past, I've been sympathetic to zoos. It's been primarily circuses, parks that use animals for entertainment, and (especially) exotic pet ownership that I've had a problem with. But whenever something like this happens, it's hard for me not to wonder if the situation might have stemmed merely from the fact that the zoo exists at all. I understand the attraction of zoos, believe it IS a sense of wonderment, and of appreciation for animals (rather than exploitation) that gets us flocking to them. And while most zoos do (or claim to) put the best interest of their residents first, does any of it need to be happening in this day and age?
To be clear, I'm not an animal rights kook. I eat meat, support hunting and fishing rights, because as human beings we are supposed to eat other animals. We are part of the food chain, part of an evolutionary infrastructure developed over the last 100,000 years that has led our species to becoming the planet's top predator. I expect that 'infrastructure' to be kept as humane as possible always, and yes, I know sometimes it isn't. But fundamentally speaking, I have no problem with the fact that it exists, or my participation in it.
While it's possible that (most) zoos are humane, none of them are natural. None of them are supposed to exist. And in this day and age, they simply don't need to. There are myriad sources of information available on-line to learn about and view any animal on Earth, and countless webcams set up in incredibly remote places offering magnificent (and real time) looks at the very same animals you'd find in a zoo. Only unlike a zoo, these hidden cameras offer a revealing glimpse into the actual lives of the animals. How they behave when there are no humans around, and they're not being forced to while away their days beneath a grotesquely artificial waterfall splashing down onto feces-smeared cement.
I was watching one just the other night, a camera set up on Round Island, Alaska, showing a group of walruses gathered on a rock-strewn beach. The animals had no idea they were being watched, no interest in the existence of the camera whatsoever, and were therefore acting completely naturally, acting as they would, and do, and have, for as long as they've been around on this planet. It was amazing, at moments mesmerizing, to sit and watch them dozing in the long Arctic summer light, the white noise rush of waves in the background broken only by the periodic call of sea birds. The only thing missing I realized, that is, the only thing I might have experienced in a zoo that I couldn't by watching the webcam, was the smell...and the cost of admission...and the crowds. And do I really want that?
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| GOO GOO G'JOOB - Still shot captured from a webcam showing walruses lounging on a rocky beach on Round Island, AK. Without the motion and sound, this static picture really doesn't do the webcam experience justice. This and numerous other animal webcams can be found at: Explore.org |
But even if you do want or need that, even if watching a webcam is NOT the same as being truly up close and personal, then travel to Alaska, or travel to the Serengeti...earn your right to see these animals in person by going out of your way to make it happen. Travel to their land, their home court, view them on their terms. Having them shipped to us in crates and placed in cages, or 'exhibits' we adorn with ferns and running water in an attempt to delude ourselves into believing we've re-created their natural habitat, really is perverse.
And it might be said that zoos actually inhibit education, rather than promote it. I believe I saw this firsthand during a visit to a zoo a few years ago. At this facility, there was an (admittedly) impressive grizzly bear exhibit, where visitors could walk through a tunnel and watch the bears frolicking in and out of the water, separated from the powerful beasts by a safety glass just a few inches thick. An adorable little girl - dressed for a day at the zoo in a pink dress and hat - approached the glass tentatively. A truly mammoth grizzly, whose head alone was the size of a small filing cabinet, swam up to the glass and began pawing at it. It kept circling around in the water over and over, keeping its gaze on the girl, obviously looking for a way through.
The mother, safe in the knowledge that her daughter was safe, had taken a step back and raised up her phone. With video rolling, she cried, "Look Courtney! The bear wants to give you a hug! He wants to give you a hug! Give the bear a hug, Courtney!"
Still shy, but emboldened by her mother's reassuring words, Courtney walked up to the glass and 'hugged' the animal by pressing her face and arms against it. I got to hand it to her, I don't know that I would have been so brave when I was three or four. One of my earliest childhood recollections involves running into the house screaming because there was a skunk crossing our driveway...but that's another post. ;-)
The bear responded to the little girl's "show of affection" by pawing at the glass even more fearsomely, baring its teeth, cocking its head sideways and gnawing, determined to find a way through the invisible barrier.
Now, I get it...I do. The mother was just setting up a cute picture to cherish one day (that's good parenting). And to be sure, I'm not at all suggesting her response should have been, "Don't get too close Courtney! That bear could KILL YOU!!!!"
But I'm sorry, there was something about her anthropomorphizing that really bothered me. No, Courtney, that bear did not want to give you a hug. The bear wanted to get at you, and clearly was confused as to why it couldn't.
Acknowledging this, acknowledging the animal's awesome power to kill, and more to the point its inability to view us as anything other than one of two things - a threat, or dinner - and that it is not the least bit interested in giving or receiving hugs, does not perpetuate irrational fear. I think quite the opposite: it nurtures a realistic appreciation of Mother Nature and her many impressive appointments, which might allow Courtney to grow up with a healthy respect for, and in peaceful co-existence with, these animals.
In any case, "Give the bear a hug" was the last thing she should have been hearing.
Maybe I should have called social services! ;-)
