A Trip to the Zoo
The eyes of an animal when they consider a man are attentive and wary. The same animal may well look at other species the same way. He does not reserve a special look for man. But by no other species except man will the animal’s look be recognized as familiar. Other animals are held by the look. Man becomes aware of himself returning the look….
The relation may become clearer by comparing the look of an animal with the look of another man. Between two men the two abysses are, in principle, bridged by language. Even if the encounter is hostile and no words are used (even if the two speak different languages), the existence of language allows that at least one of them, if not mutually, is confirmed by the other. Language allows men to reckon with each other as with themselves. (In the confirmation made possible by language, human ignorance and fear may also be confirmed. Whereas in animals fear is a response to signal, in men it is endemic.) … No animal confirms man, either positively or negatively…The first metaphor was animal, it was because the essential relationship between man and animal was metaphoric. Within that relation what the two terms — man and animal — shared in common revealed what differentiated them. And vice versa.
-John Berger, “Why Look at Animals?” About Looking.
So maybe dolphins didn’t really commit mass suicide, and maybe elephants can’t really paint self-portraits, and maybe a parrot never served as key witness in a murder trial, and maybe monkeys don’t have real conversations– animals are a lot smarter than you think. 
To the left is my dog’s favorite toy, to the right is a coffee cup that scares the bejeebus out of her (it’s also a picture of her doppleganger.) Another example of how uncanny valley creeps out animals too.
The other day, I was in a shopping mall and for whatever reason stopped by the pet store. It was a typical mall pet store, the size of a closet, at the far corner where all the cheap and badly maintained stores are located. Seeing a dozen or so puppies in their cages gave me a terrible sense of guilt. Like I should take them all — pay for them — and save them from further torture. But that would only encourage the store to breed more puppies in even worse conditions.
The Sundance Channel’s Big Ideas for a Small Planet “animals” special is the best episode in an already great series. They highlighted an animal shelter in Dallas doing its best to provide safe, friendly, spacious (green) conditions for its inhabitants. The structural changes indirectly raised a practical question: who is going to go to the pound if you are only going to experience that guilty feeling that you need to save them all?
Another segment was on the maintenance of the Bronx zoo, where they emphasize that conservation is their major goal. It got me thinking about how much has changed since John Berger wrote “Why Look at Animals?” in 1977. Berger’s essay talks about the way zoos at once seek the distinction given to museums, although they are taking subjects out of the natural environment in order to display. So what you have is an animal with a “frame around it.”
Visitors visit the zoo to look at animals. They proceed from cage to cage, not unlike the visitors in an art gallery who stop in front of one painting, and then more on to the next or the one after next… When you look at these animals, even if the animal is up against the bars, less than a foot from you, looking outwards in the public direction, you are looking at something that has been rendered absolutely marginal; and the concentration you can muster will never be enough to render it…
The space in which they inhabit is artificial. Hence their tendency to bundle towards the edge of it. (Beyond the edges there may be real space.) In some cages the light is equally artificial. In all cases the environment is illusory.
Now zoo architects are working toward building less artificial environments(and cages are no longer acceptable in metropolitan zoos.) Still, the just open Norman Foster elephant house for the Copenhagen Zoo, and news surrounding it, shows the debate whether a zoo should exist at all never went away.
A design critic at The Guardian says, in an otherwise an enthusiastic post about the zoo addition, “How can any architect even begin to match the subtlety of a spider’s web or recreate the landscapes and forests elephants call home? Zoo architecture is, at best, an art, or beast, of uneasy and uncertain compromise.”
Images by Sarah Moon. Brightcove video and more about the artist.
A Hundred Chances: White Lies Post-Facebook
If our young men miscarry in their first enterprises they lose all heart. If the young merchant fails, men say he is ruined. If the finest genius studies at one of our colleges, and is not installed in an office within one year afterwards, in the cities or suburbs of Boston or New York, it seems to his friends and to himself that he is right in being disheartened and in complaining the rest of his life. A sturdy lad from New Hamsphire or Vermont, who in turn tries all the professions, who teams it, farms it, peddles, keeps a school, preaches, edits a newspaper, goes to Congress, buys a township, and so forth, in successive years, and always like a cat falls on his feet, is worth a hundred of these city dolls. He walks abreast with his days and feels no shame in not “studying a profession,” for he does not postpone his life, but lives already. He has not one chance, but a hundred chances.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance, 1814
Growing up I wanted to be a Hitchcock blonde. Not only because they were witty and beautiful and were dressed by Edith Head, but because they would happen upon a vault of cash, stuff it in a bag, drive off in a Cadillac convertible to
start an entirely new life — or try to.
I don’t advocate breaking the law, yet the possibility of reinventing one’s self seems a dying art. Human resources checks all your references and degree credentials. And the Internet means all your lies will be exposed provided someone cares enough to learn the truth about you. Only professionals — con men — can really get away with it.
Last month, NBC aired a Dateline episode on con artist 2.0, Gemase Simmons. The extent of his reality tv charade is almost unbelievable. Pretending to be a former model (his height and appearance alone contradict his claimed experience in the industry,) he recruited a dozen people to appear on the so-called television model search using Craigslist and Myspace. Services were provided free in exchange for advertising when the show was to air. A full crew was hired (they left after a few weeks, when they didn’t get paid,) so all of his bizarre antics are caught on tape. He had them stay at a campground, and made them go through the kinds of optical course challenges reality tv is known for. People grew suspicious even before he made sexual advances on the participants — male and female — when the cameras weren’t rolling.
Simmons has spent his life reinventing himself. He wasn’t just a “model/actor” but a political consultant, a writer, an R+B producer –with ten outstanding arrest warrants, (a mugshot showed him with a Catholic priest’s collar.) This guy was born to lie, and dreamt big enough to get away with it (And he would have, if MSNBC hadn’t heard of him — the only reason they did is one of the cameramen he hired had a connection to the news program.) Simmons, by the way, denies every charge.
Compare that to story of Hope Ballantyne, recently profiled in Radiolab’s “Deception” episode. She’d move in a new place, write a bad check and move again. She conned dozens of Bay Area residents out of thousands of dollars. From a 2000 article in the San Francisco Examiner:
[A former roommate] led the search for Hope after finding spiral notebooks scrawled with names and phone numbers amid the woman’s left-behind bags of designer clothes and make-up.When Nuccio began contacting the people listed, she learned that complaints about Hope stretched back at least three years to Los Angeles – giving a frightening context to her own rental rip-off…
“What’s frustrating about the whole thing is that she continues to screw people,” said Mara Soucie, 30, who works in production management at cable music channel VH1 in Los Angeles. “She seems so normal, a bright girl. Always could think on her feet.”
I don’t think Ballantyne could get away with those things in today’s San Francisco. A few blog and Facebook posts could prevent her from ever striking again. But that there’s no further news on Ballantyne, following an arrest in 2004, doesn’t mean she’s changed her ways so much as that she may be using another name.
For the rest of us, lying just doesn’t pay off. Even with the best intentions — say your boss is a sexist pig and fired you for some arbitrary reason — you can’t explain it in a resume, and you can’t lie without the risk of getting caught (Your former boss, on the other hand, is entirely welcome to lie to a human resources manager about your work ethic and skill set.) It’s only going to get harder, as web presence becomes a necessity. The white lie is dead.
The hoax, of course, persists, but with many complications. “Myth-busting” is such a popular blog sport, that truths to the tales are thrown out with the falsities. Barack Obama isn’t a Muslim… but his father was. Similarly, Guillermo Vargas Habakkuk, who I even posted about earlier with some confusion, isn’t entirely a hoax. The trouble with that meme starts with his name: it’s written both Guillermo Vargas Habakkuk or Guillermo “Habacuc” Vargas, or some variation of either, so googling with quotation marks only gives you a sample of the results. There’s a petition to ban him from Bienal Centroamericana Honduras 2008, which doesn’t appear to exist. Or is it the Central American Biennale? Google suggests, “Central American Biennial.” Lesson one: don’t trust sources in translation.
There is a Central American Biennale and there is an artist named Guillermo ___ Vargas, but the dog didn’t die (the most likely sources say.) What’s missing in the cries of “hoax” is that he did starve a dog in an art show (or maybe he did?) He did it, apparently, to drum up exactly the kind of protest he’s receiving now: to show that people will care about an animal dying in a gallery, but not the billions dying in the streets. World Society for the Protection of Animals has some updates on it.
And I wonder how the Internet is impacting espionage. One of the best episodes in Errol Morris’ First Person — The Little Gray Man — is about Antonio Mendez, former spy. He talks about being an invisible man, the kind of guy you just never look at — if you’re used to the checkout lady noticing the person behind you in line before you, then you’d be a great spy. He’s written two books, and his life story is soon to be a movie. Twenty years from now, when even middle aged office employees are in social networks — will we still be able to create false identities for CIA operatives?
Related link:
- Doublethink on The Runner: A True Account of the Amazing Lies and Fantastic Adventures of the Ivy League Imposter James Hogue.
Previously: Science Fiction is for the Renaissance Men
Evolutionary biologist Olivia Judson, author of Dr Tatiana’s Sex Advice for All Creation, now has a delightful column in the New York Times. In it she’s managed to make pineapple plants and shrimp goby seem fascinating. Her newest article is on British parliament’s decision to permit creation of human-animal hybrid embryos. She draws on her own experiences in the lab in her conclusion. A very eloquent piece.
“There are ethical ways to train and ride horses, but the competitiveness going on in all parts of the industry these days is pretty horrifying. Thoroughbred race horses are “backed” (first ridden) at one and a half years of age, raced at 2. Derby horses are 3 years old. In other disciplines, most horses aren’t ridden at all until they are at least 3 years old. [Eight Belles] broke down because she was a big baby.” – Audacia Ray. “Their bone skeletons seem to be getting lighter and frail,” says Sally Jenkins, “Is Horse Racing Breeding Itself to Death?”
Torturing an animal isn’t art, it’s sick. 300,000 and counting want Guillermo Vargas Habakkuk out of the Central American Biennale.
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