It was my first year as a Biology undergraduate at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. I was twenty years old, excited to begin my life as an adult. Little did I know that my black-and-white worldview would be challenged in this grown-up world. I have always seen mankind’s relationship with nature to be one of stewardship. We are here to protect the trees and mountains, rivers and ravines, and—of course—the birds and bees. I was sure that what is good for the environment should be good for its living inhabitants as well. After all, good is good, and bad is bad. Or so I thought.
The true complexities of life, in general, and environmentalism specifically were most evident when it came to issues concerning animals. That year I learned that what is “good” for the ecosystem, could be very bad to the individual animal. Not just “very bad”, but lethal.
I have always loved animals. I went to study biology to later go on and become a veterinary doctor. I was delighted to learn that my fellow students were all passionate about the natural world. My best friend Dan was an environmentalist. Sara, who I considered to be my sister, wanted to protect animals in the wild. And I? I had dreams of relieving animal suffering. If there was one thing I was sure of it was this: we are all on the same “side”.
Imagine my surprise when a great chasm opened up between me and my friends one Friday afternoon. It was the inaugural meeting of an exciting new initiative called the Green Course. Leaders of this student-based activism group advertised this gathering for weeks, providing a way for students to become involved in fighting social and environmental injustice. Of course, the three of us were the first ones to sign up.
The meeting began. From setting up an on-campus recycling program to fighting the mayor’s plan to build housing on forested land, we had our work cut out for us, and I was 100% on-board. That is, until the campus’ feral cat population was on the agenda. The leader Eitan, a tall and skinny 24-year-old, declared them to be an ‘ecological problem’. “They are preying on our wild bird population” he said, “something has to be done. The Nature and Parks Authority knows what to do”.
I couldn’t believe my ears. What was he suggesting? I thought to myself: “Surely, he cannot mean that we should kill them? These are living creatures we are talking about. They feel pain and are sentient. There is no way this is defensible, even in the name of protecting the birds. “
Turning to Dan and Sara, a look of surprise and disappointment in my eyes, I whispered: “we have to say something”. Dan looked at me and shrugged, while Sara simply said: “I agree with Eitan. These cats were domesticated by humans, and are putting wild birds at risk. It’s unnatural”.
Failing to see how killing a whole population of cats falls under “environmental justice”, I timidly raised my hand and asked: “are you proposing we kill these cats? No way is this an “eco-friendly” solution. Cats are part of our ecosystem too, aren’t they?”
Eitan, who until now stood erect and confident, slouched a bit. Looking at his colleagues for reassurance he turned to me and said: “we work to protect the ecosystem; the welfare of individual animals is beyond our concern. Maybe you should go to a Peta meeting”.
That day was when I was first introduced to the conflict between environmentalism and the consideration of animal welfare. That was the day the dark side of conservation revealed itself to me, and my black-and-white world turned all greys.
In the name of protecting wild species or the environment, numerous animals are shot, poisoned or trapped by wildlife authorities. In Israel, over 900 wild dogs a year are shot by the Nature and Parks Authority claiming they jeopardize wild animals. In 2013 alone, the American Fish and Wildlife Service killed over 3000 barred owls to prevent them from encroaching on the threatened spotted owl’s habitat. These practices are common and acceptable to many environmentalists.
Is it really “ecologically good” to kill? I dedicated much of my time since investigating such claims. I have learned that lethal conservation programs not only neglect to consider the ethical implications of killing animals, but also fail to account for severe ecological consequences. Eliminating the feral cat population of the Australian Macquarie island, for example, started a domino effect resulting in the modification of Albatrosses’ nesting sites. With the cats gone, native rabbit populations grew uninterrupted, feeding on grass that was suitable for Albatross nesting. Instead, wild exotic plants grew uncontrollably, forming a dense network not allowing Albatrosses to lay eggs.
Interestingly, compassionate solutions to conservation problems could be found. In her Doctoral Thesis, Catherine M. Hall of Murdoch University found that bright-colored cat colors deter birds and reduce predation rates by cats. Her work, published in the Applied Animal Behavior Science journal, shows how innovative, cheap solutions could help avoid lethal measures. Alternatives do exist, we need only decide to seek them.
Over the years, I have learned to acknowledge the existence of greys in environmentalism. However, I cannot accept them blindly and put the killing of thousands of animals under the “necessary evil” category. One could be ‘green’ and cruelty-free. It’s all a matter of motivation to find an appropriate solution.