I DETEST double standards, but I have to admit that they are often held
deep in the psyche of many of us. A case in point is cruelty to animals,
where not only are double standards commonplace – the badger digger who
dotes on his vicious bull terrier, for instance – but even seem to be enshrined
in law.
In Britain, domestic or captive animals are provided, in theory at least,
with legislation to protect them against cruelty. Protection is provided
by a whole series of acts of Parliament dating from 1911 to 1964. But while
you and I may have a clear (or at least translucent) idea of what a domestic
animal is, understanding what is, or isn’t, in legal terms a captive animal
is a little more tricky.
Did you know, for example, that, if you were so cruelly inclined, you
could throw knives into a whale stranded on a beach and not be committing
an offence under any of the acts? The legal precedent is Steele v Rogers,
in 1912. The same thinking – that a captive animal is one that must be more
than temporarily prevented from escaping – applies to a wild deer restrained
before it is killed. As far as the law is concerned, no cruelty takes place.
But a pet lizard, or a goldfish in little Jimmy’s glass bowl, has the full
might of the Protection of Animals Act behind it – at least theoretically.
There are double standards, too, as a result of the Protection of Animals
(Anaesthetics) Acts, 1954 and 1964. They make provision for operations on
animals where the lack of an anaesthetic would cause pain. And while it
is the exceptions to the provisions of these acts which cover experiments
on animals for scientific purposes that have attracted virtually all the
attention, there are other exceptions that have rarely attracted much –
if any – comment.
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Take docking dogs’ tails for instance. To comply with the pathetic fashions
that dog breeders insist we should adhere to, many breeds of dogs born,
perfectly naturally, with long tails have them cut short when they are very
young puppies. So long as it’s done when the poor animals still haven’t
opened their eyes (a couple of weeks after birth for most breeds) all you
need is a strong pair of scissors – and a strong stomach.
Some years ago I did it to poodle puppies, the breeding of which was
then a family hobby. Don’t tell me that the gut-wrenching squeals, the spurts
of blood, and the frantic scratching and yelping of the mother – kept well
away for her own, and our, safety – indicated that the procedure was anything
other than incredibly cruel. A barbaric act for the sake of fashion and
nothing else. I’d never do it again, legal or not.
For some inexplicable reason the Protection of Animals (Anaesthetics)
Acts don’t apply to ‘a fowl or other bird, fish or reptile’. So an operation
on any of these animals is not automatically deemed to have been carried
out without ‘due care and humanity’, even if no anaesthetic is used.
Even the more recent legislation contains paradoxes. Section 8 of the
Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981, for example, which deals with captive
birds, requires that a cage in which a bird is kept must be big enough for
it to stretch its wings freely. So if you put a starling you have saved
from the cat into a cage which is too small for it to flap its wings, you
could, according to the law, be liable to prosecution. I use the case of
a starling (the bird) advisedly. The case of Starling (a human one) v Brooks
in 1956 held that a bird’s confinement is a question of fact; a valid motive
for keeping it in too small a cage, or the absence of suffering, are both
untenable as a defence against prosecution. The double standard arises because
Section 8 doesn’t apply to poultry, nor to a bird being shown in a public
exhibition or competition for up to 72 hours on end.
Contrast these exceptions with the freedom of action given to a farmer
under the Dogs (Protection of Livestock) Act, 1953. A dog ‘worrying’ (curious
term this) livestock is effectively liable to summary execution by a farmer.
‘Worrying’ includes anything from attacking, chasing in a way likely to
cause ‘diminution of their produce’ (presumably meaning the chased sheep
or cow will lose a bit of weight) to simply being in the same field with
the livestock and not held on a leash or under close control.
Malcolm Smith is a biologist and writer.
