Philosophy of Psychedelics Chris Letheby - The Complete Ebook Set Is Ready For Download Today
Philosophy of Psychedelics Chris Letheby - The Complete Ebook Set Is Ready For Download Today
https://ebookmass.com/product/fittingness-essays-in-the-philosophy-of-
normativity-1st-edition-chris-howard/
https://ebookmass.com/product/psychedelics-as-psychiatric-medications-
david-nutt/
https://ebookmass.com/product/a-jurisprudence-of-the-body-1st-edition-
edition-chris-dietz/
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-philosophy-of-science-a-companion-
anouk-barberousse/
The Philosophy of Philosophy 2nd Edition Timothy
Williamson
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-philosophy-of-philosophy-2nd-
edition-timothy-williamson/
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-palgrave-handbook-of-critical-
menstruation-studies-1st-ed-edition-chris-bobel/
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-philosophy-of-daniel-dennett-1st-
edition-bryce-huebner/
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-allure-of-empire-chris-suh/
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sounds-of-her-chris-reilly/
Advance praise for Philosophy of Psychedelics
This excellent, well-argued, book is required reading for anyone with interests in phil-
osophy of mind, philosophy of psychology, and philosophy of psychiatry. It presents
the first book-length argument for the effectiveness of psychedelic therapy and pro-
vides an account of how this effectiveness may be understood from within cognitive
neuroscience. Everyone should read this book!
Richard Brown, Humanities Department,
LaGuardia Community College,
CUNY & M.S. program in Cognitive Neuroscience
at the Graduate Center, CUNY
1
3
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP,
United Kingdom
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford.
It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship,
and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of
Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries
© Oxford University Press 2021
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
First Edition Published in 2021
Impression: 1
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the
prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted
by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics
rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the
above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the
address above
You must not circulate this work in any other form
and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer
Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press
198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Data available
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020949256
ISBN 978–0–19–884312–2
DOI: 10.1093/med/9780198843122.001.0001
Printed and bound by
CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
Oxford University Press makes no representation, express or implied, that the
drug dosages in this book are correct. Readers must therefore always check
the product information and clinical procedures with the most up-to-date
published product information and data sheets provided by the manufacturers
and the most recent codes of conduct and safety regulations. The authors and
the publishers do not accept responsibility or legal liability for any errors in the
text or for the misuse or misapplication of material in this work. Except where
otherwise stated, drug dosages and recommendations are for the non-pregnant
adult who is not breast-feeding
Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and
for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials
contained in any third party website referenced in this work.
Acknowledgements
My deepest thanks are due to Philip Gerrans, Gerard O’Brien, and Jon Opie, without
whom this book would not have been written. I am also indebted to Lisa Bortolotti
and Thomas Metzinger for timely advice, encouragement, and assistance.
I am extremely grateful to Miri Albahari and Roland Griffiths for their generosity
in reading the entire manuscript and providing detailed comments. For reading and
commenting on sections of the manuscript, I would like to thank Sam Baron, Sascha
Fink, Owen Flanagan, Remco Heesen, Nin Kirkham, Aidan Lyon, Michael Rubin,
and Clas Weber. Needless to say, any errors that remain are my responsibility.
Finally, and with apologies to anyone I have forgotten, I would like to thank my
stellar editorial team at Oxford University Press: Martin Baum, Janine Fisher, and
Charlotte Holloway.
This research was partially supported by the Australian Government through
the Australian Research Council’s Discovery Projects funding scheme (project
DP190101451). The views expressed herein are those of the author and are not neces-
sarily those of the Australian Government or Australian Research Council.
The epigraph at the start of Chapter 3 is reproduced from Jane Dunlap, Exploring
Inner Space: Personal Experiences under LSD-25, p. 166. Copyright © 2003, Harcourt,
Brace & World.
The epigraph at the start of Chapter 4 is reproduced from William A. Richards,
‘Mystical and archetypal experiences of terminal patients in DPT-assisted psycho-
therapy’, Journal of Religion and Health, 17(2), p. 120, DOI: https://doi.org/10.1007/
BF01532413 Copyright © 1978, Springer Nature.
The epigraph at the start of Chapter 5 is reproduced from Huston Smith, Cleansing
the Doors of Perception: The Religious Significance of Entheogenic Plants and Chemicals,
p. 15. Copyright © 2003, Sentient Publications.
The epigraph at the start of Chapter 6 is reproduced from The Poems of Emily
Dickinson: Variorum Edition, edited by Ralph W. Franklin, Cambridge, Mass.: The
Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Copyright © 1998 by the President and
Fellows of Harvard College. Copyright © 1951, 1955 by the President and Fellows of
Harvard College. Copyright © renewed 1979, 1983 by the President and Fellows of
Harvard College. Copyright © 1914, 1918, 1919, 1924, 1929, 1930, 1932, 1935, 1937,
1942 by Martha Dickinson Bianchi. Copyright © 1952, 1957, 1958, 1963, 1965 by
Mary L. Hampson.
Contents
Abbreviations ix
1. Introduction 1
8. Epistemology 160
8.1 Introduction 160
8.2 Psychopharmacology and epistemology 162
8.3 Knowledge that 166
8.4 Knowledge how 172
8.5 Knowledge by acquaintance 179
8.6 New knowledge of old facts 184
8.7 Indirect epistemic benefits 191
8.8 Epistemic innocence 194
9. Spirituality 196
9.1 Introduction 196
9.2 Naturalising spirituality 197
9.3 Spirituality as unselfing 199
References 223
Index 253
Abbreviations
PCP phencyclidine
PET positron emission tomography
PHC parahippocampal cortex
PIC posterior insular cortex
PIQ Psychological Insight Questionnaire
PMIR Phenomenal model of the intentionality relation
PP predictive processing
PSM phenomenal self-model
RCT randomised controlled trial
REBUS RElaxed Beliefs Under pSychedelics
RSC retrosplenial cortex
SN Salience Network
SSRI selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor
TPJ temporoparietal junction
TPN task-positive network
TRD treatment-resistant depression
vmPFC ventromedial prefrontal cortex
1
Introduction
(Osmond 1957, Carhart-Harris et al. 2016a). However, these drugs were studied and
prescribed as experimental psychiatric treatments in the 1950s and 1960s, prior to
the public controversy surrounding their use by the hippie counterculture. Promising
results were reported from this line of research, which was curtailed prematurely due
to the crackdown on psychedelics and the subsequent ‘War on Drugs’. For decades,
virtually no human psychedelic research was conducted.
Since the 1990s, this research has been slowly but steadily resuming, and the results
to date are intriguing. Although it is still relatively early days, there is now sufficient
evidence to take seriously the claims of earlier researchers. Supervised psychedelic ses-
sions may, after all, have an acceptable safety profile (dos Santos et al. 2018a) coupled
with significant and lasting psychological benefits for psychiatric patients (dos Santos
and Hallak 2020) and even for healthy volunteers (Gandy 2019). Meanwhile, neu-
roimaging studies of the psychedelic state are providing tantalising clues about the
biological bases of consciousness and self-awareness (dos Santos et al. 2016b). If these
preliminary findings are replicated, then psychedelics may well find a place in twenty-
first-century psychiatry (Sessa 2005, 2012, 2018). But many questions remain. The
transformative mechanisms of psychedelic experience are incompletely understood,
and this strikingly novel type of therapeutic intervention raises many fascinating and
puzzling issues, both scientific and philosophical.
This book is organised around one specific philosophical question that relates to
the role of the mystical experience in psychedelic therapy. Patients and subjects who
show the greatest psychological benefit from psychedelic experiences tend to be those
who report a mystical experience, as defined by widely used psychometric question-
naires, and often the degree of mystical experience predicts the degree of benefit.
A mystical experience is sometimes described as an overwhelmingly powerful ap-
parent encounter with ‘ultimate reality’. Space, time, and the sense of individual self-
hood fade away, to be replaced by a sense of union with ‘another Reality that puts this
one in the shade’ (Smith 2000, p. 133). In some cases, this Reality is experienced as
a divine or cosmic consciousness that underlies and unifies the entire manifest uni-
verse, evoking philosophical doctrines such as idealism and pantheism (Shanon 2002,
p. 162). The apparent centrality of the mystical experience has led researcher Charles
Grob to describe psychedelic therapy as an ‘existential medicine’ (Grob 2007, p. 213).
But this picture of psychedelic therapy raises an obvious worry: what if the divine
universal consciousness is not real? Many philosophers and scientists today subscribe
to a broadly naturalist, materialist, or physicalist world view, according to which
mind and consciousness are not fundamental in the universe but are relatively recent
products of complex evolution. From this perspective, the mystical apprehensions of
psychedelic subjects look like ‘metaphysical hallucinations’ (Flanagan and Graham
2017, p. 294)—subjectively compelling but ultimately misleading by-products of ab-
errant brain activity, on a par with psychedelic subjects’ visions of walls ‘breathing’ or
kaleidoscopic fractals (cf. Roche 2010). And there seems to be something seriously
questionable about a treatment or enhancement modality that works by inducing
metaphysical hallucinations. The journalist Michael Pollan, discussing the use of
Introduction 3
psychedelics to treat psychological distress in terminally ill patients, puts the point
forcefully: ‘Is psychedelic therapy simply foisting a comforting delusion on the sick
and dying?’ (Pollan 2015). The worry is that psychedelics bring about their salu-
tary psychosocial effects by a deceptive, epistemically (and therefore ethically) bad
mechanism.
Call this the ‘Comforting Delusion Objection’ to psychedelic therapy. There are
three popular responses. The first is that there’s no problem because the mystical ex-
perience is veridical. Far from inducing metaphysical hallucinations, psychedelics
afford subjects a direct and transformative apprehension of ultimate reality (Smith
2000, Richards 2015). The second response is that the epistemic status of psychedelic
experiences is relatively unimportant: what is more important is that they help people
live better lives (Flanagan and Graham 2017). The third response is that the epistemic
status of psychedelic experiences is very important, but also poor: we should be wary
of permitting or prescribing psychedelic therapy because it does in fact work by the
objectionable induction of comforting delusions (Lavazza 2017).
In this book, I present a fourth, relatively unexplored response to the Comforting
Delusion Objection. My central thesis is that the Objection fails. My strategy is to
start by assuming that (a) the naturalist worldview is true, so no cosmic consciousness
exists, and (b) the epistemic status of psychedelic therapy is very important. This is the
worst-case scenario for someone seeking to answer this objection. Clearly, if a cosmic
consciousness or divine Reality exists, the objection fails (the first response above);
and, clearly, if the epistemic status of psychedelic therapy is relatively unimportant,
the objection fails (the second response above). Here I aim to show that the objection
fails even if neither of these conditions holds—and this will show that the objection
fails, whatever is the case.
My grounds for concluding that the Comforting Delusion Objection fails, even
given assumptions (a) and (b) above, are twofold. First, the epistemic risks of psyche-
delic therapy, from a naturalistic standpoint, are less than one might suppose. Despite
first appearances, psychedelic therapy does not work by instilling comforting meta-
physical beliefs in a divine Reality. Such beliefs are sometimes acquired, but they are
not necessary for therapeutic benefits, nor do they always accompany such benefits.
The construct of a ‘mystical-type experience’, which mediates clinical outcomes, some-
times reflects experiences as of a cosmic consciousness or divine Reality. However, it
sometimes reflects more naturalistic experiences of ‘ego dissolution’, connectedness,
emotional catharsis, and psychological insight. Psychedelics promote well-being by
temporarily disrupting the sense of self, allowing patients to access new ways of seeing
themselves and their lives. Such existentially significant changes to self-awareness do
not depend on changes to metaphysical beliefs about the ultimate nature of reality.
Second, psychedelic therapy is epistemically innocent, in the technical sense defined
by Lisa Bortolotti (2015). Bortolotti defines epistemically innocent imperfect cogni-
tions as those that have real epistemic flaws but also offer significant epistemic bene-
fits that are unavailable by any other means. This is the status of psychedelic therapy,
given naturalism. Psychedelic experiences can lead to knowledge acquisition, both
4 Introduction
directly and indirectly—even if naturalism is true and the cosmic consciousness ex-
perience is a metaphysical hallucination. In the course of defending these claims, I will
deal with issues concerning the nature of conscious experience, the relations between
psychology and neuroscience, and the theory and philosophy of self-awareness. The
second main thesis of the book is that a sustained and detailed interaction between
philosophy and psychedelic science can be mutually beneficial: I aim to show that
psychedelic science reveals phenomena of serious philosophical interest, while phil-
osophy offers valuable tools for clarifying and interpreting results from psychedelic
science.
I begin in Chapter 2 by reviewing recent scientific evidence concerning the safety,
and therapeutic and transformative efficacy, of carefully controlled psychedelic ad-
ministration. The recent wave of clinical studies suggests that psychedelics can indeed
be given safely and responsibly, without serious adverse effects, to carefully selected
and prepared subjects in carefully controlled conditions. These studies also provide
evidence for durable psychological benefits following one (or very few) psychedelic
sessions conducted in this fashion. But they also provide evidence that these benefits
are mediated, at least in part, by mystical experiences, giving rise to the Comforting
Delusion Objection. I outline the objection and my proposed response to it in more
detail. I suggest that what is needed is a natural philosophy of psychedelics: a synthetic,
big-picture inquiry integrating multidisciplinary evidence to address philosophical
issues in a manner continuous with science and consistent with naturalism.
In the spirit of such a natural philosophy, I begin with detailed attention to the
phenomena under investigation. As such, Chapter 3 presents an overview of the phe-
nomenology of psychedelic therapy, including patients’ own impressions of the thera-
peutic mechanisms. Psychedelic experiences are notoriously variable and often held
to be ineffable. Nonetheless, significant progress has been made on identifying typical
themes from quantitative and qualitative reports. Subjects often describe an expan-
sion of consciousness, a heightening of emotional experience, strange visions and in-
sights, and a blurring of boundaries between self and world. Many subjects interpret
these experiences in non-naturalistic terms, but many do not, instead emphasising
experiences of psychological insight, emotional catharsis, acceptance, and connect-
edness to various aspects of self and world (Carhart-Harris et al. 2018a, Breeksema
et al. 2020). This provides our first major clue that psychedelic therapy is not a simple
matter of inducing existentially comforting metaphysical beliefs.
Although they provide suggestive evidence, we cannot assume that subjects’ im-
pressions of the therapeutic mechanisms are correct. To determine how psychedelic
therapy works, we need to examine a broader range of evidence. In Chapter 4, I survey
three different theories of how psychedelics cause lasting psychological benefits.
The first ascribes these benefits to psychedelics’ direct effects on the molecular-level
mechanisms of neuroplasticity. On this view, psychedelic therapy is an experience-
independent pharmacotherapy, and the remarkable phenomenology is a mere cluster
of therapeutically epiphenomenal ‘psychotomimetic’ side effects. The second and
third theories differ in detail, but both ascribe lasting benefits to non-naturalistic
Introduction 5
experiences and practices that (a) can legitimately be called ‘spiritual’, and (b) are
compatible with adherence to a naturalistic world view. The existential transform-
ation afforded by some psychedelic experiences provides a paradigm for naturalistic
spirituality: the temporary suspension of our default, self-referential mode of cog-
nition, making available broader perspectives, experiences of connectedness, and
feelings of wonder and awe. This has connections to Iris Murdoch’s (1970) notion of
‘unselfing’ (cf. Kähönen 2020). There is considerable convergence between typical
features of psychedelic-induced spiritual experiences and themes common to mul-
tiple philosophical accounts of naturalistic spirituality (Stone 2012), which provides
further support for the general approach.
Finally, in Chapter 10, I summarise the discussion and make some suggestions
for future research. My account makes several testable predictions—for instance,
psychedelic-induced changes to the activity of specific brain networks should cor-
relate with distinct types of ego-dissolution experiences, and psychedelic-induced
changes to metaphysical beliefs (e.g., about the mind–body relation) should account
for relatively little variance in clinical outcomes. In closing, I reflect on the broader
significance of my arguments. Psychedelic science is a fast-moving field, and this book
will be out of date in some respects before it hits the shelves—which is a good thing.
In the coming years, we are set to learn more than ever before about these controver-
sial substances, their risks, benefits, and potential applications, and the mechanisms
underlying their remarkable effects. The philosophical discussion of psychedelics, in
particular, is in its infancy. But I think it is not premature to bet that, when psyche-
delics cause lasting therapeutic benefits, these benefits are not brought about mainly
by the induction of comforting delusions. Psychedelics can, as many have insisted,
facilitate genuine insights and spiritual experiences—and this is a claim that even a
philosophical naturalist should endorse.
2
On the need for a natural philosophy
of psychedelics
Central to the entire LSD controversy is: ‘With how much credence should
the chemical experience be accepted?’ Should it be totally accepted as
the real reality, or is it preferable to attempt to study the state, sorting
out the veridical from the illusory? Evidently, a choice must be made. The
state must be either taken on faith without examination or it must be sub-
jected to sorting and analysis. The overgullible will be easily persuaded,
the overcritical will analyse it out of existence. Perhaps a third approach is
possible––an attempt to measure without changing, to evaluate without
destroying.
Sidney Cohen, Drugs of Hallucination.
2.1 Introduction
In this chapter, I review the history of psychedelics in science and psychiatry, recent
evidence for their safety and therapeutic and transformative efficacy, and the facts
about them that give rise to the Comforting Delusion Objection. I describe the main
extant responses to the Objection, introduce my response, and outline my plan for
defending it in the subsequent chapters. Psychedelics have struck many researchers
as raising significant philosophical questions (Smythies 1953, Smith 1964, Shanon
2001), yet until recently have been largely ignored in academic philosophy. I pro-
pose that what is needed in this age of interdisciplinarity is a natural philosophy of
psychedelics: a trans-disciplinary synthesis that integrates empirical findings with
theoretical and conceptual considerations, to address some of the fascinating and dis-
tinctively philosophical questions raised by these controversial substances.
its active principle, Salvinorin A), acts by agonism of the kappa opioid receptor in
the brain, for instance (Roth et al. 2002), while dissociative anaesthetics such as keta-
mine produce psychedelic effects at low doses by blockade of N-methyl-D-aspartate
(NMDA) glutamate receptors (Krystal et al. 1994).
However, the term is sometimes reserved for a more restricted class: the ‘classic’
psychedelics, such as lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD), psilocybin (found in ‘magic’
mushrooms), mescaline (found in various cacti), and N,N- dimethyltryptamine
(DMT, found in various plants and animals, and a key ingredient in the Amazonian
beverage ayahuasca; Nichols 2016). These drugs, and others of this class, exert their
psychoactive effects primarily by mimicking the action of the neurotransmitter sero-
tonin (5-HT) at a specific receptor subtype: the serotonin-2a (5-HT2A) receptor
(Vollenweider et al. 1998, Halberstadt 2015, Carhart-Harris 2019). It is these seroto-
nergic (serotonin-acting) psychedelics that are my focus in this book, and I will re-
serve the word ‘psychedelic’ for them henceforth.1
Naturally occurring psychedelics have been used for religious, spiritual, and me-
dicinal purposes for centuries, if not millennia, by various cultures around the world,
especially in the Americas (Grinspoon and Bakalar 1979, Miller et al. 2019). Western
scientists and intellectuals showed some interest in mescaline throughout the late
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries (e.g., Mitchell 1896, Ellis 1897, Klüver 1926,
Guttmann 1936). But the story of modern psychedelic science really begins with the
Swiss chemist Albert Hofmann’s accidental discovery, in 1943, of the potent psyche-
delic effects of LSD (Hofmann 1980). Hofmann was originally investigating LSD and
related compounds for purely medicinal purposes, but he and his colleagues were
struck by the dramatic and bizarre alterations to consciousness that this new molecule
produced at utterly minute doses. In subsequent years, the similarity between the ef-
fects of LSD and mescaline was recognised. Following this, the amateur mycologist
R. Gordon Wasson (1957) confirmed that Psilocybe mushrooms were still in regular
ceremonial use in Mexico. Hofmann identified psilocybin as the active ingredient and
worked out how to synthesise it (Hofmann et al. 1958). Psychedelic science began in
earnest.
Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, psychedelics were studied and used in many
different ways (Grof 1975, pp. 1–4). Early researchers were impressed by the simi-
larity between some psychedelic experiences and naturally occurring psychoses,
leading to a conception of the drugs as ‘psychotomimetic’ (psychosis-mimicking) or
‘psychotogenic’ (psychosis-causing). This led to two major applications: the study of
psychedelics’ mechanisms of action, in the hope of uncovering the biochemical bases
of mental illness, and the controlled ingestion of psychedelics by psychiatrists, to in-
crease their empathy with their psychotic patients (Osmond 1957). The discovery of
does not count as psychedelic on this definition: Although its effects are partly serotonergically mediated,
it differs both pharmacologically and phenomenologically from the classic psychedelics (Nichols 1986,
Roseman et al. 2014).
Visit https://ebookmass.com today to explore
a vast collection of ebooks across various
genres, available in popular formats like
PDF, EPUB, and MOBI, fully compatible with
all devices. Enjoy a seamless reading
experience and effortlessly download high-
quality materials in just a few simple steps.
Plus, don’t miss out on exciting offers that
let you access a wealth of knowledge at the
best prices!
Other documents randomly have
different content
are a brute, consciously acquiescing in your own happiness, at the
expense of others. Well, which are you?”
“I have not said that I belong to either.”
“There are only two halves to a whole. No, my friend, disabuse
yourself once for all of that cheap and comfortable philosophy of
shutting your eyes to what you think you can’t remedy, unless you
are willing to be labelled ‘brute.’ ‘He who is not with me is against
me,’ you know.”
“Well,” I said, “after that, perhaps you’ll be good enough to tell
me what I can do by making myself miserable over things I can’t
help?”
“I will,” he answered. “In the first place, kindly consider that you
are not living in a private world of your own. Everything you say and
do and think has its effect on everybody around you. For example, if
you feel, and say loudly enough, that it is an infernal shame to keep
larks and other wild song-birds in cages, you will infallibly infect a
number of other people with that sentiment, and in course of time
those people who feel as you do will become so numerous that
larks, thrushes, blackbirds, and linnets will no longer be caught and
kept in cages. Whereas, if you merely think: ‘Oh! this is dreadful,
quite too dreadful, but, you see, I can do nothing; therefore
consideration for myself and others demands that I shall stop my
ears and hold my tongue,’ then, indeed, nothing will ever be done,
and larks, blackbirds, etc., will continue to be caught and prisoned.
How do you imagine it ever came about that bears and bulls and
badgers are no longer baited; cocks no longer openly encouraged to
tear each other in pieces; donkeys no longer beaten to a pulp? Only
by people going about and shouting out that these things made
them uncomfortable. How did it come about that more than half the
population of this country are not still classed as ‘serfs’ under the
law? Simply because a few of our ancestors were made unhappy by
seeing their fellow-creatures owned and treated like dogs, and
roundly said so—in fact, were not ashamed to be sentimental
humanitarians like me.”
“That is all obvious. But my point is that there is moderation in all
things, and a time for everything.”
“By your leave,” he said, “there is little moderation desirable
when we are face to face with real suffering, and, as a general rule,
no time like the present.”
“But there is, as you were saying just now, such a thing as a
sense of proportion. I cannot see that it’s my business to excite
myself about the caging of larks when there are so many much
greater evils.”
“Forgive my saying so,” he answered, “but if, when a caged lark
comes under your nose, excitement does not take hold of you, with
or against your will, there is mighty little chance of your getting
excited about anything. For, consider what it means to be a caged
lark—what pining and misery for that little creature, which only lives
for its life up in the blue. Consider what blasphemy against Nature,
and what an insult to all that is high and poetic in man, it is to cage
such an exquisite thing of freedom!”
“You forget that it is done out of love for the song—to bring it
into towns where people can’t otherwise hear it.”
“It is done for a living—and that people without imagination may
squeeze out of unhappy creatures a little gratification!”
“It is not a crime to have no imagination.”
“No, sir; but neither is the lack of it a thing to pride oneself on,
or pass by in silence, when it inflicts suffering.”
“I am not defending the custom of caging larks.”
“No; but you are responsible for its continuance.”
“I?”
“You! and all those other people who believe in minding their
own business.”
“Really,” I said; “you must not attack people on that ground. We
cannot all be busybodies!”
“The saints forbid!” he answered. “But when a thing exists which
you really abhor—as you do this—I do wish you would consider a
little whether, in letting it strictly alone, you are minding your own
business on principle, or because it is so jolly comfortable to do so.”
“Speaking for myself——”
“Yes,” he broke in; “quite! But let me ask you one thing: Have
you, as a member of the human race, any feeling that you share in
the advancement of its gentleness, of its sense of beauty and justice
—that, in proportion as the human race becomes more lovable and
lovely, you too become more lovable and lovely?”
“Naturally.”
“Then is it not your business to support all that you feel makes
for that advancing perfection?”
“I don’t say that it isn’t.”
“In that case it is not your business to stop your ears, and shut
your eyes, and hold your tongue, when you come across wild song-
birds caged.”
But we had reached my rooms.
“Before I go in,” I said, “there is just one little thing I’ve got to
say to you: Don’t you think that, for a man with your ‘sense of
proportion,’ you exaggerate the importance of beasts and their
happiness?”
He looked at me for a long time without speaking, and when he
did speak it was in a queer, abstracted voice:
“I have often thought over that,” he said, “and honestly I don’t
believe I do. For I have observed that before men can be gentle and
broad-minded with each other, they are always gentle and broad-
minded about beasts. These dumb things, so beautiful—even the
plain ones—in their different ways, and so touching in their
dumbness, do draw us to magnanimity, and help the wings of our
hearts to grow. No; I don’t think I exaggerate, my friend. Most
surely I don’t want to; for there is no disservice one can do to all
these helpless things so great as to ride past the hounds, to fly so
far in front of public feeling as to cause nausea and reaction. But I
feel that most of us, deep down, really love these furred and
feathered creatures that cannot save themselves from us—that are
like our own children, because they are helpless; that are in a way
sacred, because in them we watch, and through them we
understand, those greatest blessings of the earth—Beauty and
Freedom. They give us so much, they ask nothing from us. What can
we do in return but spare them all the suffering we can? No, my
friend; I do not think—whether for their sakes or our own—that I
exaggerate.”
When he had said those words he turned away, and left me
standing there.
II
Reverie of a Sportsman
(From the Fortnightly Review, 1915.)
I set out one morning in late August, with some potted grouse
sandwiches in one pocket and a magazine in the other, for a tramp
toward Causdon. I had not been in that particular part of the moor
since I used to go snipe-shooting there as a boy—my first
introduction, by the way, to sport. It was a very lovely day, almost
too hot; and I never saw the carpet of the moor more exquisite—
heather, fern, the silvery white cotton grass, dark peat turves, and
green bog-moss, all more than customarily clear in hue under a very
blue sky. I walked till two o’clock, then sat down in a little scoop of
valley by a thread of stream, which took its rise from an awkward-
looking bog at the top. It was wonderfully quiet. A heron rose below
me and flapped away; and while I was eating my potted grouse I
heard the harsh cheep of a snipe, and caught sight of the twisting
bird vanishing against the line of sky above the bog. “That must
have been one of the bogs we used to shoot,” I thought; and having
finished my snack of lunch, I rolled myself a cigarette, opened the
magazine, and idly turned its pages. I had no serious intention of
reading—the calm and silence were too seductive, but my attention
became riveted by an exciting story of some man-eating lions, and I
read on till I had followed the adventure to the death of the two
ferocious brutes, and found my cigarette actually burning my fingers.
Crushing it out against the dampish roots of the heather, I lay back
with my eyes fixed on the sky, thinking of nothing.
Suddenly I became conscious that between me and that sky a
leash of snipe high up were flighting and twisting and gradually
coming lower; I appeared, indeed, to have a sort of attraction for
them. They would dash toward each other, seem to exchange ideas,
and rush away again, like flies that waltz together for hours in the
centre of a room. As they came lower and lower over me I could
almost swear I heard them whisper to each other with their long
bills, and presently I absolutely caught what they were saying: “Look
at him! The ferocious brute! Oh, look at him!”
Amazed at such an extraordinary violation of all the laws of
Nature, I began to rub my ears, when I distinctly heard the “Go-
back, go-back” of an old cock grouse, and, turning my head
cautiously, saw him perched on a heathery knob within twenty yards
of where I lay. Now, I knew very well that all efforts to introduce
grouse on Dartmoor have been quite unsuccessful, since for some
reason connected with the quality of the heather, the nature of the
soil, or the over-mild dampness of the air, this king of game birds
most unfortunately refuses to become domiciled there; so that I
could hardly credit my senses. But suddenly I heard him also: “Look
at him! Go back! The ferocious brute! Go back!” He seemed to be
speaking to something just below; and there, sure enough, was the
first hare I had ever seen out on the full of the moor. I have always
thought a hare a jolly beast, and not infrequently felt sorry when I
rolled one over; it has a way of crying like a child if not killed
outright. I confess then that in hearing it, too, whisper: “Look at
him! The ferocious brute! Oh, look at him!” I experienced the
sensation that comes over one when one has not been quite fairly
treated. Just at that moment, with a warm stirring of the air, there
pitched within six yards of me a magnificent old black-cock—the very
spit of that splendid fellow I shot last season at Balnagie, whose tail
my wife now wears in her hat. He was accompanied by four gray-
hens, who, settling in a semi-circle, began at once: “Look at him!
Look at him! The ferocious brute! Oh, look at him!” At that moment I
say with candour that I regretted the many times I have spared
gray-hens with the sportsmanlike desire to encourage their breed.
For several bewildered minutes after that I could not turn my
eyes without seeing some bird or other alight close by me: more and
more grouse, and black game, pheasants, partridges—not only the
excellent English bird, but the very sporting Hungarian variety—and
that unsatisfactory red-legged Frenchman which runs any distance
rather than get up and give you a decent shot at him. There were
woodcock too, those twisting delights of the sportsman’s heart,
whose tiny wing-feather trophies have always given me a distinct
sensation of achievement when pinned in the side of my shooting-
cap; wood-pigeons too, very shy and difficult, owing to the thickness
of their breast-feathers—and, after all, only coming under the
heading “sundry”; wild duck, with their snaky dark heads, that I
have shot chiefly in Canada, lurking among rushes in twilight at
flighting time—a delightful sport, exciting, as the darkness grows;
excellent eating too, with red pepper and sliced oranges in oil!
Certain other sundries kept coming also; landrails, a plump, delicious
little bird; green and golden plover; even one of those queer little
creatures, moorhens, that always amuse one by their quick, quiet
movements, plaintive note, and quaint curiosity, though not really, of
course, fit to shoot, with their niggling flight and fishy flavour!
Ptarmigan, too, a bird I admire very much, but have only once or
twice succeeded in bringing down, shy and scarce as it is in
Scotland. And, side by side, the alpha and omega of the birds to be
shot in these islands, a capercailzie and a quail. I well remember
shooting the latter in a turnip-field in Lincolnshire—a scrap of a bird,
the only one I ever saw in England. Apart from the pleasurable
sensation at its rarity, I recollect feeling that it was almost a mercy
to put the little thing out of its loneliness. It ate very well. There,
too, was that loon or northern diver that I shot with a rifle off
Denman Island as it swam about fifty yards from the shore.
Handsome plumage; I still have the hat it made. One bird only
seemed to refuse to alight, remaining up there in the sky, and
uttering continually that trilling cry which makes it perhaps the most
spiritual of all birds that can be eaten—I mean, of course, the
curlew. I certainly never shot one. They fly, as a rule, very high and
seem to have a more than natural distrust of the human being. This
curlew—ah! and a blue rock (I have always despised pigeon-
shooting)—were the only two winged creatures that one can shoot
for sport in this country that did not come and sit round me.
There must have been, I should say, as many hundred altogether
as I have killed in my time—a tremendous number. They sat in a sort
of ring, moving their beaks from side to side, just as I have seen
penguins doing on the films that explorers bring back from the
Antarctic; and all the time repeating to each other those amazing
words: “Look at him! The ferocious brute! Oh, look at him!”
Then, to my increased astonishment, I saw behind the circles of
the birds a number of other animals besides the hare. At least five
kinds of deer—the red, the fallow, the roe, the common deer, whose
name I’ve forgotten, which one finds in Vancouver Island, and the
South African springbok, that swarm in from the Karoo at certain
seasons, among which I had that happy week once in Namaqualand,
shooting them from horseback after a gallop to cut them off—very
good eating as camp fare goes, and making nice rugs if you sew
their skins together. There, too, was the hyena I missed, probably
not altogether; but he got off, to my chagrin—queer-looking brute!
Rabbits of course had come—hundreds and hundreds of them. If—
like everybody else—I’ve done such a lot of it, I can’t honestly say
I’ve ever cared much for shooting rabbits, though the effect is neat
enough when you get them just right and they turn head over heels
—and anyway, the prolific little brutes have to be kept down. There,
too, actually was my wild ostrich—the one I galloped so hard after,
letting off my Winchester at half a mile, only to see him vanish over
the horizon. Next him was the bear whose lair I came across at the
Nanaimo Lakes. How I did lurk about to get that fellow! And, by
Jove! close to him, two cougars. I never got a shot at them, never
even saw one of the brutes all the time I was camping in Vancouver
Island, where they lie flat along the branches over your head,
waiting to get a chance at deer, sheep, dog, pig, or anything handy.
But they had come now sure enough, glaring at me with their
greenish cats’ eyes—powerful-looking creatures! And next them sat
a little meerkat—not much larger than a weasel—without its head!
Ah yes!—that trial shot, as we trekked out from Rous’ farm, and I
wanted to try the little new rifle I had borrowed. It was sitting over
its hole fully seventy yards from the wagon, quite unconscious of
danger. I just took aim and pulled; and there it was, without its
head, fallen across its hole. I remember well how pleased our “boys”
were. And I too! Not a bad little rifle, that!
Outside the ring of beasts I could see foxes moving, not mixing
with the stationary creatures, as if afraid of suggesting that I had
shot them, instead of being present at their deaths in the proper
fashion. One, quite a cub, kept limping round on three legs—the
one, no doubt, whose pad was given me, out cubbing, as a boy. I
put that wretched pad in my hat-box, and forgot it, so that I was
compelled to throw the whole stinking show away. There were quite
a lot of grown foxes; it certainly showed delicacy on their part, not
sitting down with the others. There was really a tremendous crowd
of creatures altogether by this time! I should think every beast and
bird I ever shot, or even had a chance of killing, must have been
there, and all whispering: “Look at him! The ferocious brute! Oh,
look at him!”
Animal lover, as every true sportsman is, those words hurt me. If
there is one thing on which we sportsmen pride ourselves, and
legitimately, it is a humane feeling toward all furred and feathered
creatures—and, as every one knows, we are foremost in all efforts to
diminish their unnecessary sufferings.
The corroboree about me which they were obviously holding
became, as I grew used to their manner of talking, increasingly
audible. But it was the quail’s words that I first distinguished.
“He certainly ate me,” he said; “said I was good, too!”
“I do not believe”—this was the first hare speaking—“that he
shot me for that reason; he did shoot me, and I was jugged, but he
wouldn’t touch me. And the same day he shot eleven brace of
partridges, didn’t he?” Twenty-two partridges assented. “And he only
ate two of you all told—that proves he didn’t want us for food.”
The hare’s words had given me relief, for I somehow disliked
intensely the gluttonous notion conveyed by the quail that I shot
merely in order to devour the result. Any one with the faintest
instincts of a sportsman will bear me out in this.
When the hare had spoken there was a murmur all round. I
could not at first make out its significance, till I heard one of the
cougars say: “We kill only when we want to eat”; and the bear, who,
I noticed, was a lady, added: “No bear kills anything she cannot
devour”; and, quite clear, I caught the quacking words of a wild
duck. “We eat every worm we catch, and we’d eat more if we could
get them.”
Then again from the whole throng came that shivering whisper:
“Look at him! The ferocious brute! Oh, look at him!”
In spite of their numbers, they seemed afraid of me, seemed
actually to hold me in a kind of horror—me, an animal lover, and
without a gun! I felt it bitterly. “How is it,” I thought, “that not one of
them seems to have an inkling of what it means to be a sportsman,
not one of them seems to comprehend the instinct which makes one
love sport just for the—er—danger of it?” The hare spoke again.
“Foxes,” it murmured, “kill for the love of killing. Man is a kind of
fox.” A violent dissent at once rose from the foxes, till one of them,
who seemed the eldest, said: “We certainly kill as much as we can,
but we should always carry it all off and eat it if man gave us time—
the ferocious brutes!” You cannot expect much of foxes, but it struck
me as especially foxy that he should put the wanton character of his
destructiveness off on man, especially when he must have known
how carefully we preserve the fox, in the best interests of sport. A
pheasant ejaculated shrilly: “He killed sixty of us one day to his own
gun, and went off that same evening without eating even a wing!”
And again came that shivering whisper: “Look at him! The ferocious
brute! Oh, look at him!” It was too absurd! As if they could not
realize that a sportsman shoots almost entirely for the mouths of
others! But I checked myself, remembering that altruism is a purely
human attribute. “They get a big price for us!” said a woodcock,
“especially if they shoot us early. I fetched several shillings.” Really,
the ignorance of these birds! As if modern sportsmen knew anything
of what happens after a day’s shooting! All that is left to the butler
and the keeper. Beaters, of course, and cartridges must be paid for,
to say nothing of the sin of waste. “I would not think them so much
worse than foxes,” said a rabbit, “if they didn’t often hurt you, so
that you take hours dying. I was seven hours dying in great agony,
and one of my brothers was twelve. Weren’t you, brother?” A second
rabbit nodded. “But perhaps that’s better than trapping,” he said.
“Remember mother!” “Ah!” a partridge muttered, “foxes at all events
do bite your head off clean. But men often break your wing, or your
leg, and leave you!” And again that shivering whisper rose: “Look at
him! The ferocious brute! Oh, look at him!”
By this time the whole thing was so getting on my nerves that if I
could have risen I should have rushed at them, but a weight as of
lead seemed to bind me to the ground, and all I could do was to
thank God that they did not seem to know of my condition, for,
though there were no man-eaters among them, I could not tell what
they might do if they realized that I was helpless—the sentiments of
chivalry and generosity being confined to man, as we all know.
“Yes,” said the capercailzie slowly, “I am a shy bird, and was
often shot at before this one got me; and though I’m strong, my size
is so against me that I always took a pellet or two away with me;
and what can you do then? Those ferocious brutes take the shot out
of their faces and hands when they shoot each other by mistake—
I’ve seen ’em; but we have no chance to do that.” A snipe said
shrilly: “What I object to is that he doesn’t eat us till he’s had too
much already. I come in on toast at the fifth course; it hurts one’s
feelings.”
“Ferocious brute, killing everything he sees.”
I felt my blood fairly boil, and longed to cry out: “You beasts! You
know that we don’t kill everything we see! We leave that to
cockneys, and foreigners.” But just as I had no power of movement,
so I seemed to have no power of speech. And suddenly a little voice,
high up over me, piped down: “They never shoot us larks.” I have
always loved the lark; how grateful I felt to that little creature—till it
added: “They do worse; they take and shut us up in little traps of
wire till we pine away! Ferocious brutes!” In all my life I think I never
was more disappointed! The second cougar spoke: “He once passed
within spring of me. What do you say, friends; shall we go for him?”
The shivering answer came from all: “Go for him! Ferocious brute!
Oh, go for him!” And I heard the sound of hundreds of soft wings
and pads ruffling and shuffling. And, knowing that I had no power to
move an inch, I shut my eyes. Lying there motionless, as a beetle
that shams dead, I felt them creeping, creeping, till all round me and
over me was the sound of nostrils sniffing; and every second I
expected to feel the nip of teeth and beaks in the fleshy parts of me.
But nothing came, and with an effort I reopened my eyes. There
they were, hideously close, with an expression on their faces that I
could not read; a sort of wry look, every nose and beak turned a
little to one side. And suddenly I heard the old fox saying: “It’s
impossible, with a smell like that; we could never eat him!” From
every one of them came a sort of sniff or sneeze as of disgust, and
as they began to back away I distinctly heard the hyena mutter:
“He’s not wholesome—not wholesome—the ferocious brute!”
The relief of that moment was swamped by my natural
indignation that these impudent birds and beasts should presume to
think that I, a British sportsman, would not be good to eat. Then
that beastly hyena added: “If we killed him, you know, and buried
him for a few days, he might be tolerable.”
An old cock grouse called out at once: “Go back! Let us hang
him! We are always well hung. They like us a little decayed—
ferocious brutes! Go back!” And once more I felt, from the stir and
shuffle, that my fate hung in the balance; and I shut my eyes again,
lest they might be tempted to begin on them. Then, to my infinite
relief, I heard the cougar—have we not always been told that they
were the friends of man?—mutter: “Pah! It’s clear we could never
eat him fresh, and what we do not eat at once we do not touch!”
All the birds cried out in chorus: “No! That would be crow’s
work.” And again I felt that I was saved. Then, to my horror, that
infernal loon shrieked: “Kill him and have him stuffed—specimen of
Ferocious Brute! Or fix his skin on a tree, and look at it—as he did
with me!”
For a full minute I could feel the currents of opinion swaying over
me, at this infamous proposal; then the old black cock, the one
whose tail is in my wife’s hat, said sharply: “Specimen! He’s not good
enough!” And once more, for all my indignation at that gratuitous
insult, I breathed freely.
“Come!” said the lady bear quietly: “Let us dribble on him a little,
and go. The ferocious brute is not worth more!” And, during what
seemed to me an eternity, one by one they came up, deposited on
me a little saliva, looking into my eyes the while with a sort of horror
and contempt, then vanished on the moor. The last to come up was
the little meerkat without its head. It stood there; it could neither
look at me nor drop saliva, but somehow it contrived to say: “I
forgive you, ferocious brute; but I was very happy!” Then it, too,
withdrew. And from all around, out of invisible presences in the air
and the heather, came once more the shivering whisper: “Look at
him! The ferocious brute! Oh, look at him!”
I sat up. There was a trilling sound in my ears. Above me in the
blue a curlew was passing, uttering its cry. Ah! Thank Heaven!—I
had been asleep! My day-dream had been caused by the potted
grouse, and the pressure of the Review, which had lain, face
downwards, on my chest, open at the page where I had been
reading about the man-eating lions, and the death of those ferocious
brutes. It shows what tricks of disproportion little things will play
with the mind when it is not under reasonable control.
And, to get the unwholesome taste of it all out of my mouth, I at
once jumped up and started for home at a round pace.
III
The Slaughter of Animals for Food
(Papers in the Daily Mail, 1912.)[2]
In other words, the more helpless the creature the less need for
humanity!
One can only hope that every Local Authority will now adopt this
clause, and insist on the stunning of sheep as well as of all other
animals.
But the animal is not given the benefit of the doubt. Whatever
the degree of consciousness of animals awaiting slaughter
(sometimes for a whole hour) just divided by a door which, all
regulations to the contrary, is far from always shut, whether they
know or not that it is death which awaits them, any spectator
accustomed to animals in their normal state has only to look at their
eyes, as they stand waiting, to feel sure that they are in fear of
something.
Such then, in brief and in rough, are the conditions and methods
of slaughter which still seem good to us. When the Admiralty
Committee issued their report in 1904 they made the following
recommendations: —
Our website is not just a platform for buying books, but a bridge
connecting readers to the timeless values of culture and wisdom. With
an elegant, user-friendly interface and an intelligent search system,
we are committed to providing a quick and convenient shopping
experience. Additionally, our special promotions and home delivery
services ensure that you save time and fully enjoy the joy of reading.
ebookmass.com