Introduction

Abstract

In Anna Sewell’s classic book Black Beauty, about horses in Victorian England, one of the characters, who has just intervened on behalf of an ill-treated London cab-horse, declares ‘My doctrine is this, that if we see cruelty or wrong that we have the power to stop, and do nothing, we make ourselves sharers in the guilt’.¹ I believe that most people would echo those sentiments and step in to stop cruelty to an animal if they were to see it. I don’t detect strong community support for explicit acts of violence against animals. However, many of us never see cruelty being exercised towards animals. In fact, most of us hardly ever see animals at all. I live in suburban Melbourne, Australia. I ride my pushbike to work. I occasionally see small birds; and I think my neighbour may have a dog, although I have never seen the dog; it is not uncommon to notice cats sitting in people’s front gardens. But beyond that animals are almost completely absent from my life. Yet, as a matter of logic, animals must exist, and they must exist within the social system I inhabit. I know this because at my local supermarket the body parts of former animals are wrapped in plastic, sitting under fluorescent lights, ready for purchase. The animals who become meat must come from somewhere, yet I never see, hear, smell or even sense them. My situation is similar to that of most of the four million other people living in Melbourne.