Through a Window (40 page)

A wonderful team of people has helped with data analysis and administration in Dar es Salaam. For eight years Trusha Pandit was my right-hand woman—there was nothing she could not
turn her hand to. She has recently left to go with her husband to India, and no one will ever quite replace her. Other people who have spent hour upon hour helping with data analysis and all manner of other aspects of running Gombe (and organizing me!) are Jeanee Deane, Jenny Gould, Jennifer Hanay, Ann Hinks, Uta Soutter and Judy Taylor. My heartfelt thanks to all. And, too, to those wonderful friends who sprang into the breach after Derek's death, helping and strengthening me in many ways: first and foremost, of course, members of my own warm and supportive family, Vanne (who was to undergo open-heart surgery herself just a few months later), Olly, Audrey and Judy. And Grub—poor fellow, having a mother always immersed in chimpanzees and chimpanzee talk. In Dar es Salaam there was Derek's son, Ian. And Clarissa and Gunar Barnes, Jenny and Michael Gould, Frauke and Benno Haffner, Sigy and Ted McMahon, Nancy and Robert Nooter, Trusha and her husband Prashant, Judy and Adrian Taylor. And very special friends, with whom I stayed during the first miserable days after my return to Tanzania, Dick Viets and his wonderful wife, Marina who, tragically, passed away recently and is missed so deeply, but also remembered with much love and affection, by so many. And others, who have been of great help subsequently: Liz and Ron Fennell, Catherine and Tony Marsh, Penelope Breeze and Stevenson McIllvaine, Mollie and David Miller, Julie and Don Petterson, and Dimitri Mantheakis and his sons.

Next I must try to thank those who made possible the Jane Goodall Institute for Research, Conservation and Education, a tax-exempt organization into which all donations are now channelled. It was conceived by the late Prince Ranier di san Faustino and his wife, Geneviève. After his death, Genie worked hard and made his dream a reality with the help of other wonderful friends—Joan Cathcart, Bart Deamer, Margaret Gruter, Douglas Schwartz, Dick Slottow and Bruce Wolfe. So much effort, so much generosity in time, or money, or both. Subsequently other
loyal supporters have been part of the Institute: Larry Barker, Ed Bass, Hugh Caldwell, the late Sheldon Campbell, Bob Fry, Warren Iliff, Jerry Lowenstein, Jeff Short, Mary Smith and Betsy Strode. Here a very special word of thanks to two people whose generosity did much to set the Institute on its feet—Gordon and Ann Getty whose fabulous challenge gift in 1984 gave us, for the first time, an endowment. And my heartfelt thanks, too, to William Clement who made extraordinarily generous contributions when the Institute moved from San Francisco to Tucson, Arizona. I must also express gratitude to staff members who have worked so hard for so little to help me realize some of my dreams over the past few years. To Sue Engel, for helping the fledgling Institute to fly. And to Jennifer Kenyon and ChimpanZoo coordinator, Virginia Landau. A number of people have generously donated their effort and time, and I specially thank Leslie Groff, Gale Paulin, and Humphrey and Penny Taylor. And how can I properly express my thanks to Robert Edison and Judy Johnson who have led the effort to build up the Institute over the past few years. Bob, in particular, shares all my values where animal welfare is concerned. Next, I must express my thanks to Geza Teleki who, after fighting for chimpanzee conservation and welfare virtually single-handed subsequent to his return from Sierra Leone, has now joined forces with the JGI. Geza, in fact, is "Our Man in Washington," where he heads the Committee for Conservation and Care of Chimpanzees (The Four C's). Geza, along with Heather McGiffin, also provides wonderful hospitality every time I visit America's capital—which, these days, is many times a year. Other people who have been deeply involved in efforts to improve things for chimpanzees, and who have been very helpful in Washington, are Michael Bean, Bonnie Brown, Roger Coras, Kathleen Mozzoco, Senator John Melcher, Ron Nowak, Nancy Reynolds, Christine Stevens and Elizabeth Wilson.

Many others have made great contributions, each in his or her own unique way, and to all of them I am so grateful—especially
to Michael Aisner for great fund-raising efforts and true dedication to the cause; to Mark Maglio for contributing terrific art work; and to Peggy Detmer, Trent Meyer and Bart Walter for their wonderful bronzes.

More recently still the Jane Goodall Institute (UK) was born. Already this is a strong organization—because of the remarkable people who agreed to join the Board as Trustees: Robin Brown, Mark Collins, Geneviève di san Faustino, Robert Hinde, Bertil Jernberg, Guy Parsons, Victoria Pleydell-Bouverie, Sir Laurens van der Post, Susan Pretzlik, Karsten Schmidt, John Tandy, Steve Matthews, the late Sir Peter Scott—and my mother, Vanne. Along with Karsten Schmidt who steered the Institute safely through the Charitable Trust Commission, the bulk of the day-to-day work is done by Guy Parsons, Robert and Dilys Vass, Steve Matthews, Sue Pretzlik, and Vanne. The success of the launching of this Institute was due also to the generous donation by the Condor Preservation Trust, arranged by Robin and Jane Cole, much hard work by Clive Hollands and his staff, and the contributions, in terms of books and posters, by Michael Neugebauer. We are off to an auspicious start and hope to do much in Britain to raise awareness about the plight of chimpanzees, particularly among children. And many people, such as John Eastwood, Pat Groves, Neil Margerison, and Pippit Waters, are out there helping us.

It is difficult to express adequately my indebtedness to my late husband, Derek Bryceson, for his help, support and advice. Without him I doubt I could have kept the research going after the kidnapping of 1975. Derek, with his vast knowledge and understanding of Tanzania, helped me to train the field staff and to reorganize the data collection. Many were the discussions I had with him on puzzling aspects of chimpanzee behaviour; his comments, proffered from the point of view of a farmer, were often penetrating, and gave me new insights. His contribution was indeed great; even now, because he was so loved and honoured in
Tanzania, his name confers on me, his widow, a position I would never otherwise have attained.

Now I must try to thank my mother, Vanne, for the staggering contribution she has made. Not only did she encourage my childhood dream of studying wild animals, but, of course, she even accompanied me to Gombe in 1960. Her wisdom and advice over the sometimes stormy years between then and now have been invaluable. She has helped with fund raising, she has read and commented on manuscripts, and she has always been a tower of strength. And, of course, there would have been no book without her—for I should not have been!

Finally, there are the chimpanzees themselves, all those unique, vivid personalities: Flo and Fifi, Gilka and Gigi, Melissa and Gremlin, Goliath and Mike, Figan and Goblin, Jomeo and Evered. And David Graybeard who, although he moved on to the Happy Hunting Grounds over twenty years ago, remains closest to my heart.

T
HE MORE WE LEARN
of the true nature of non-human animals, especially those with complex brains and correspondingly complex social behaviour, the more ethical concerns are raised regarding their use in the service of man—whether this be in entertainment, as "pets," for food, in research laboratories or any of the other uses to which we subject them. This concern is sharpened when the usage in question leads to intense physical or mental suffering—as is so often true with regard to vivisection.

Biomedical research involving the use of living animals began in an era when the man in the street, while believing that animals felt pain (and other emotions) was not, for the most part, much concerned by their suffering. Subsequently, scientists were much influenced by the Behaviourists, a school of psychologists which maintained that animals were little more than machines, incapable of feeling pain or any human-like feelings or emotions. Thus it was not considered important, or even necessary, to cater to the wants and needs of experimental animals. There was, at that time, no understanding of the effect of stress on the endocrine and nervous systems, no inkling of the fact that the use of a stressed animal could affect the results of an experiment. Thus the conditions in which animals were kept—size and furnishings of cage, solitary versus social confinement—were designed to make the life of the caretaker and experimenter as easy as possible. The smaller the cage the cheaper it was to make, the easier to clean, and the simpler the task of handling its inmate. Thus it was hardly surprising that research animals were kept in tiny sterile cages, stacked
one on top of the other, usually one animal per cage. And ethical concern for the animal subjects was kept firmly outside the (locked) doors.

As time went on, the use of non-human animals in the laboratories increased, particularly as certain kinds of clinical research and testing on
human
animals became, for ethical reasons, more difficult to carry out legally. Animal research was increasingly perceived, by scientists and the general public, as being crucial to all medical progress. Today it is, by and large, taken for granted—the accepted way of gaining new knowledge about disease, its treatment and prevention. And, too, the accepted way of testing all manner of products, destined for human use, before they go on the market.

At the same time, thanks to a growing number of studies into the nature and mechanisms of animals' perceptions and intelligence, most people now believe that all except the most primitive of non-human animals experience pain, and that the "higher" animals have emotions similar to the human emotions that we label pleasure or sadness, fear or despair. How is it, then, that scientists, at least when they put on their white coats and close the lab doors behind them, can continue to treat experimental animals as mere "things"? How can we, the citizens of civilized, western countries, tolerate laboratories which—from the point of view of the animal inmates—are not unlike concentration camps? I think it is mainly because most people, even in these enlightened times, have little idea as to what goes on behind the closed doors of the laboratories, down in the basements. And even those who do have some knowledge, or those who are disturbed by the reports of cruelty that are occasionally released by animal rights organizations, believe that
all
animal research is essential to human health and progress in medicine and that the suffering so often involved is a
necessary
part of the research.

This is not true. Sadly, while some research is undertaken with a clearly defined objective that could lead to a medical breakthrough, a good many projects, some of which cause extreme suffering to the animals used, are of absolutely no value to human (or animal) health. Additionally, many experiments simply duplicate previous experiments. Finally, some research is carried out for the sake of gaining knowledge for its own sake. And while this is one of our more sophisticated intellectual abilities, should we be pursuing this goal at the expense of other living beings whom, unfortunately for them, we are able to dominate and control? Is it not an arrogant assumption that we have the
right
to (for example) cut up, probe, inject, drug and implant electrodes into animals of all species simply in our attempt to learn more about what makes them tick? Or what effect certain chemicals might have on them? And so on.

We may agree that the general public is largely ignorant of what is going on in the labs, and the reasons behind the research there, rather as the German people were mostly uninformed about the Nazi concentration camps. But what about the animal technicians, the veterinarians and the research scientists, those who are actually working in the labs and who know exactly what is going on? Are all those who use living animals as part of standard laboratory apparatus, heartless monsters?

Of course not. There may be some—there are occasional sadists in all walks of life. But they must be in the minority. The problem, as I see it, lies in the way we train young people in our society. They are victims of a kind of brainwashing that starts, only too often, in school and is intensified, in all but a few pioneering colleges and universities, throughout higher science education courses. By and large, students are taught that it is ethically acceptable to perpetrate, in the name of science, what, from the point of view of the animals, would certainly qualify as torture. They are encouraged to suppress their natural empathy for animals, and persuaded that animal pain and feelings are utterly different from our own—if, indeed, they exist at all. By the time they arrive in the labs these young people have been programmed to accept the suffering around them. And it is only too easy for them to justify this suffering on the grounds that the work being done is for the good of humanity. For the good of the one animal species which has evolved a sophisticated capacity for empathy, compassion and understanding, attributes which we proudly acclaim as the hallmarks of humanity.

I have been described as a "rabid anti-vivisectionist." But my own mother is alive today because her clogged aortic valve was removed and replaced by that of a pig. The valve in question—a "bioplasticized" one, apparently—came, we were told, from a commercially
slaughtered hog. In other words, the pig would have died anyway. This, however, does not eliminate my feelings of concern for that particular pig—I have always had a special fondness for pigs. The suffering of laboratory pigs and those who are raised in intensive farming units has become a special concern of mine. I am writing a book,
An Anthology of the Pig,
which, I hope, will help to raise public awareness regarding the plight of these intelligent animals.

Of course I should like to see the lab cages standing empty. So would every caring, compassionate human, including most of those who work with animals in biomedical research. But if all use of animals in the laboratory was
abruptly
stopped there would probably, for a while anyway, be a great deal of confusion, and many lines of enquiry would be brought to a sudden halt. This would inevitably lead to an increase in human suffering. This means that, until alternatives to the use of live animals in the research labs are widely available and, moreover, researchers and drug companies are legally compelled to use them, society will demand—and accept—the continued abuse of animals on its behalf.