Friday's ¶ Of The Day

Today's ¶ (paragraph) Of The Day comes from the inimitable and duly controversial Princeton philosopher Peter Singer in his New York Times OP-ED, "A Convenient Truth," wherein is discussed the medical prevention of a mentally-impaired child's normal physical development:

"Here’s where things get philosophically interesting. We are always ready to find dignity in human beings, including those whose mental age will never exceed that of an infant, but we don’t attribute dignity to dogs or cats, though they clearly operate at a more advanced mental level than human infants. Just making that comparison provokes outrage in some quarters. But why should dignity always go together with species membership, no matter what the characteristics of the individual may be?"

My only response is that Mr. Singer must not love cats or dogs.

I will stipulate that I am the only person on the planet who loves cats and dogs, fishers and fish, raccoons and rascally rabbits. I will freely confess that I have often stopped and removed roadkill from busy highways; I recently dragged a dead fisher (wrongly called a "fisher cat") out of the road. And I usually do so with some sort of prayer: I even used to perform a hasty ceremony, and, in a poem on the matter, I referred to myself as a "sort of priest for the tired."

What Mr. Singer fails to see is that I dignify life all around me every day: I manage and prune trees in my yard; I sow and manage flowers in my field (I am reintroducing wild lupine destroyed by a neighbor); I feed birds and squirrels. In short, I dignify those creatures that seem to care nothing at all about dignity. In fact, I grant a dying dog or bleeding bird more dignity than it gives itself, or it receives from its own pack or flock. The dead coyote I found frozen in last year's melting snow, its eyes plucked out by turkey vultures, received a blessing from me in silence deep in the uncomprehending forest. Its pack might have even returned and scavenged on its frozen limbs.

I also do something else: I assume that nature loves being so dignified.

But most importantly, what Mr. Singer fails to see is that the impulse for dignity comes from humans alone. Though a few species do seem to care about their dead (elephants come to mind), or their living (meerkats are crazily attentive to their young), or their dying (Emperor penquins seem to care), it is humans who ceremonialize birth, life, and death. We are a ceremonious, ritualistic bunch; we desire and even expect dignity all around us. From births and birthdays, from christenings to baptisms to bar mitzvahs, to wakes and funerals and anniverseries to holidays, we honor and celebrate milestones with alacrity, and like no other species. Thus, as a mere species in Mr. Singer's philosophical reflections, we humans merit dignity because we ask for it and we give it; and we do not give it to those species who do not seem to care for it all (like great white sharks and Komodo dragons). In short, NOT dignifying other species is in fact to dignify them, for we are giving them exactly what they give themselves.

I grant that I may be personally out of whack for softly praying over dead animals, but I believe in the Christian idea that my sins (though not mine alone) have caused widespread suffering throughout the biosphere: All of creation groans for the redemption of God's children.

This is why we deserve dignity, and this is why some of us, unlike Mr. Singer, attempt to dignify every living and dying thing around us: today, no doubt, I may even rescue a spider from the tub. The spider will not know I have been kind, nor do I know whether my kindness will result in my wife being bitten by that cool spider's mandibles later in the day. What I do know is that there is something different about me, and about every human on the planet, if I but take one minute to study any other creature walking the earth.

God bless the family in question whose daughter is so desperately sick. May mercy and gladness of heart fill their days, and may God's will be done.

Peace.

BG

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.