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"Since September, 1997" 09/27/07 "I can't believe it was ten years ago this month that I first stood in a picket line, the first protest I'd ever attended. We stood in front of NYU's Bobst Library protesting the University's continued transfer of chimpanzees to the notorious Coulston Foundation in New Mexico. Since that day, much has happened: NYU's student animal rights group won retirement to sanctuaries for the remaining chimpanzees in November, 1997; the Coulston Foundation closed in 2002; the global effort against HLS was born in 1999; Peter Young went on the run, was caught, went to prison, and came out; I graduated NYU in 2000; and, oh yeah, I'm in prison. These things, and many more (including several victories for the animals) have sped past in the way that all things do when we stop and look back. On that September day in 1997, I stood in front of the library holding a sign that read: "Ashamed NYU Graduate." I left the protest half an hour early to attend my first college class. I've grown a lot over the past ten years, as a person and as an activist. I've changed my mind on ethics and tactics, and sometimes I've changed it back. I've overcome challenges that seemed insurmountable, risen to occasions from which I wanted to shrink, and pushed myself to seemingly unsurpassable limits -- all of which look modest from the other side. I've learned a lot in ten years, and not always the easy way.. Among the letters that always end up on the top of my pile of "people to respond to" are those I receive from young people: high school students, college students, people in their teens and early twenties, many of whom are just getting involved in activism. Unfortunately these letters often end up in the middle of the pile as more quickly get piled on top, and I don't always get to everyone. I know that there are many more people new to activism who don't write me. I wish I could speak to them too. Since I can't speak to everyone directly, I'd like to share here some of what I learned in the past decade, things I wish I'd known that day in September in 1997 and in the months and years that followed. I have no desire to patronize -- much of what I've learned has been from people younger than I am and people who have been active for a shorter time than I have been. I hope I'm not actually old enough to claim the wisdom that only comes with much time. Nonetheless, it's axiomatic that I know more now than I did a decade ago, and maybe it would be useful to others for me to share. Use what works, leave the rest, and be sure to pass your lessons on to those who travel the path after you. Think Big Prior to my involvement in efforts against HLS, activism was something I did with little thought of the ultimate goal. We may or may not get there, but what was important was that we were doing it. Either way, our efforts for animals were certainly not things that would be remembered: We'd have no lunch counter sit-ins, Freedom Rides, or "I Have a Dream" speeches that would be recalled by future generations. Though I went through the motions of activists before me -- I protested, I sat it, I collected petition signatures -- subconsciously I separated the efforts of the animal rights movement from the "real" movements in the history books. It was in a bar (more of a dive) on the Lower East Side of NYC, after just enough drinks that our conversation seemed very profound, that my codefendant said something that was very profound: He saw the animal rights movement as the Civil Rights Movement of today -- a movement for fundamental change, whose time is ripe now and, most importantly, one that would succeed. What hit me, more than what he said, was that he believed it. Why didn't I? It's hard to see the ultimate power of something while you're in the midst of it, and there is a natural reluctance to compare ourselves to those we admire. But as I began to think more about it, I realized the only relevant difference between the Civil Rights protesters and us, between MLK and Malcolm X and you and I, is what they did -- it was what they did that made them great. My routine and obligatory attendance at weekly protests didn't feel great because it wasn't; I subconsciously felt that two hours of protest a week wouldn't drive fur from department stores because it wouldn't. It isn't enough to call oneself an activist, punch in with the protest clock, and punch out at the end. I couldn't see myself doing things as great as the people in the history books because I wasn't. But we can. And we can accomplish as much. It is a matter of declaring (to ourselves most of all) big goals and doing what it takes to accomplish them. The HLS campaign has demonstrated that even the world's biggest and most politically-connected corporations are vulnerable to strategy and determination. But for what you have done to bring HLS to its knees, you may seem very small by comparison. But you have done it, it has worked, and I think you all are very great. I expect history will judge similarly. Presentation Matters I spent way too much time early on debating this point, with myself and with other activists. Should we look more like the people who saw us at the demonstration? Or should we look like ourselves? On the one hand, I saw that people were more likely to listen to us if we looked "presentable." But on the other hand, I didn't want to be required to conform in order for people to be willing to hear us. I now recognize how asinine the latter view is. True, we shouldn't have to look like the people to whom we're outreaching in order to get them to listen to us. But we do. And we advocate from where we are, not where we wish we were. And where we are these days is in a place where people respond most to the message in the prettiest package. Advocacy is marketing. Advocacy is also an effort at balancing positives and negatives in order to yield the most net good. Among the opponents I've had when arguing the "conformity" side of the debate are those who say we shouldn't compromise one set of values for another (and this point extends beyond the relatively minor matter of personal expression in our appearance). But some forms of oppression, exploitation, and suffering are simply worse than others. Believing that we can advocate for any cause and never compromise any of our other values is both impractical and unrealistic. Every time we get in a car to drive to a demonstration we decide that the good we'll do at the demo yields more good than the bad done by driving the car. I'm going to go a step beyond saying "look presentable" and say "look attractive." This goes for your personal appearance (at least while representing the animal rights message, which I realize is arguably always) as well as your propaganda. People respond to celebrities, advertisements, and some images more than others because they're "pretty." Look pretty. Make your flyers eye-catching. Does this perpetuate unrealistic standards of beauty. Mhmm. Does it place more value on appearance than substance? Yup. But dying in a vivisection lab is worse. To the extent that we endeavor to convince people of our own message (and no matter how large a contribution is made by direct action campaigns against specific exploitative companies and industries, the fact remains that the job isn't done until we change the minds and habits of nearly every person on earth), we should endeavor equally to give it to them in the most palatable package. To the extent that we care about other issues along with animal rights, we should deliver those too in a manner that will yield the most benefit to that cause with the least cost to others. But at various times one will have to take precedence over others. Otherwise you can tell an animal slated to die in a slaughterhouse that you won't comb your hair/ put on make-up/ cover your tattoos because it perpetuates unrealistic standards of beauty. Don't Waste Your Arrests When you are sentenced for a crime, your prior record is taken into account by the court.In federal court, at least, any felony or misdemeanor conviction and any lesser offense carrying a sentence of 30 days or more add points to the calculation of your sentence for the present offense. This can add months or years to your sentence. Case in point: In the SHAC7 case, both Andy and Darius were convicted of the same single count in the indictment -- violating the Animal Enterprise Protection Act. Darius' sentence was one year; Andy's was three, the difference owing largely, if not entirely, to Andy's history of convictions. To be clear, I certainly am not condemning my codefendant for his criminal record. It stems from a long history of excellent work for the animals. Nor am I saying "avoid all risk of arrest" or suggesting that every arrest will add time to some larger sentence you'll face down the road. Indeed, very few activists will find themselves in the shoes of the SHAC7. Additionally, while a federal Pre-Sentencing Report will report all of your arrests, only convictions -- and only those for felonies, misdemeanors, and lesser charges carrying sentences of 30 days or more -- will add points to the calculation of your sentencing guidelines. Every time we attend a protest there is a risk, usually very minor, that we'll be arrested. These sorts of arrests generally result in very minor charges, such as disorderly conduct or trespass. Often they don't lead to any conviction, and rarely do they result in any jail sentence, much less one for more than 30 days. In short, don't shy away from protests. What I am saying is this: Convictions compound themselves and can have consequences beyond their individual sentences. Make each one count for something. • First and foremost, get arrested for the animals, not for jumping turnstiles, shoplifting, etc. We need activists out of jail and working for the animals, not spending extra time in jail because they have prior convictions for shoplifting. • Don't argue with police for the sake of doing so; don't sit down in the street because they arrested your friend. Where do you expect this will get you other than in jail too? Sometimes we have to get arrested to make a point that will help activists in the future; lawsuits challenging certain laws or police behavior often must stem from some arrest resulting from the improper position/application of the law or behavior. And it is not an entirely uncommon thing for activists to know their rights better than police officers. I'm all for demanding our rights and suing to get them if necessary, and I believe many of these arrests are worthwhile. But arguing with police officers because you don't want to move onto the curb usually is not. • Think about your actions. Are you getting the most bang for your buck? Are you considering the cost in resources of lawyers, legal fees, time dealing with court cases? Can you do something that will have an equal impact but not result in arrest? If you do want to blockade doors, do you really need to be locked to the thing doing the blocking? Civil disobedience can be a valuable tool in the toolbox but if you can have an equal impact with a smaller chance of arrest, I think it better to err away from voluntary arrest if it's otherwise all the same. • Lastly, don't plead guilty, to your charge or a lesser charge, just to get the case over with. There are certainly times when it is more strategic to plead rather than pursue the case, but being sick of dealing with a case, moving away, or not feeling like showing up for court are not among them. Convictions for convenience are never worthwhile. As activists, we're all bound to face arrests now and again. Not every one of my pre-SHAC7 arrests was "worth it" and I certainly didn't plan for every one of them. But I did the best I could and tried to stick with what seemed worth it at the time. In the end, my criminal history did not add time to my SHAC7 sentence and I'll be out of prison as early as possible to keep fighting for the animals. Use Force This is not necessarily a suggestion to use physical force, and certainly not one to use violence against people. Rather it is meant to dispel the notion that victories on campus require anything less than what is necessary to achieve them off campus. When you fight a university administration for fundamental change on campus, more often than not you have to force them to make it. By November of my freshman year at NYU, I'd occupied the University President's office and, along with my fellow occupiers, secured retirement to sanctuaries for the remaining chimpanzees slated to be sent to the Coulston Foundation. I spent much of the next three and a half years writing op-eds for the student newspaper, staffing information tables, collecting petition signatures, and never accomplishing as much as I did during the 24 hours in that office. As in the rest of the world, some things on campus can be accomplished through negotiation, petition drives, and outreach alone, while others require a much heavier hand. Implementing a vegan food program in NYU's dining halls, for example, was best accomplished by demonstrating student demand and working with the director of the dining halls to hash out logistics and get the word out. Challenging vivisection on NYU's campus, however, decidedly was not. During my time at NYU, I handed out thousands of leaflets, staffed well over a hundred tables, met with University officials a half dozen times, and wrote dozens of op-ed pieces. And every time I did, the Vice President of Public Affairs ran a piece the next day accusing student activists -- and often me personally -- of refusing to go through "proper channels" and of generally behaving unreasonably in our efforts to publicize and halt vivisection on campus. Ten years later, I concede that he was right. I was being unreasonable. It was unreasonable of me to bother collecting student signatures, thinking they'd outweigh the other interests driving animal experiments in NYU labs. It was unreasonable of me to engage in an interminable exchange of op-ed pieces and allow that to distract me from more effective action. Most importantly, it was unreasonable of me to think that stopping vivisection at NYU would be a matter of winning the argument. The factors that drive exploitative practices at universities are no different -- and no less powerful -- than those that drive them at corporations. And rest assured that the university president, vice presidents, and other administration officials will defend these practices no less fiercely than any CEO or Chairman of the Board. They will dispatch their own public relations people -- the "Vice President of Public Affairs" -- to keep critics at arm's length, protect the university's interests, and portray your efforts as a "threat to academic freedom," disrespectful of research, and an abandonment of reasoned debate. When put forward within the context of an institution of higher learning, such sound-bites have an even greater impact than they do on the general public; universities are purportedly places where reasoned debate and critical inquiry supposedly trump special interests and where change can be accomplished through democratic efforts and by way of the so-called "proper channels." Make no mistake: Universities are not so high and mighty that they are exempt from the forces that control most every other institution in the world. The people who work and study at them are not so different from most other people. (Indeed, much of the public at large came from college themselves.) Just like everyone else, schools have a bottom line. And just like everywhere else, the "proper channels" are the ones that work. Closing Lauren" |
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