Values in Conflict: Reflections of an Animal Advocate offers an account of changing and conflicting social values regarding man's role in the natural world. Author Georges Dupras compels us to think about man's role in animal suffering and leads us to the inescapable conclusion that we must speak and act for those who have no voice. Dupras presents a pragmatic approach to peaceful coexistence with nonhuman species, without sacrificing idealism. The humane field has developed from a nonprofit mission to a profession over the past forty years addressing questions, comments, and issues that are foremost in the minds of the general public. While highlighting opposing social values, Dupras encourages those who feel marginalized due to their lack of professional training and offers advice to help them find their right path. Dupras also chronicles the evolution of the animal rights movement, one that uniquely transcends differences among species. This thorough review and reflection on both Dupras's personal experiences and of animal advocacy in general seeks to address questions, comments, and issues that are foremost in the minds of the general public, in hopes that future generations will recognize animals for their intrinsic value, equal in their own rights.

VALUES IN CONFLICT

By Georges R. Dupras

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 Georges R. Dupras
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-5385-8

Contents

Foreword................................................xviiPrologue................................................xixHow It Began............................................1A New Direction.........................................19Anticruelty Laws........................................28Fur and the Fur Industry................................34Terrorism...............................................44Seals and Sealing.......................................51Fisheries and Oceans....................................76Sustainable Development.................................88Animal Rights...........................................95Research................................................104Hunting and Fishing.....................................113Cultural Differences....................................133Displays and Entertainment..............................143Re-Homing animals.......................................164Bearzzz and More........................................173Food Industry...........................................217Carriage Horse Trade, Montréal.....................239Puppy Mills.............................................244Media...................................................250Surreal and Other Experiences...........................254Who Am I?...............................................275A Horse Named Coco......................................288Epilogue................................................295Conclusion..............................................297Acknowledgements........................................299Organizations...........................................301

Chapter One

How It Began

Introduction

I was born in Québec City in 1949, and my formal education, such as it was, was divided between French and English school boards in Montréal, where I still reside. My schooling occurred during the waning years of the Catholic Church's influence on French Québec. This secular change became known as the "Silent Revolution" and was ushered in by the late Jean Lesage, then Premier of Québec. The Catholic Church, then as today, had little recognition for animals. Among my earliest family recollections were those of the many animals with whom we shared our lives. The concept of responsibility and love for animals was an integral part of my upbringing from a very early age.

My teen years were the worst period of my life, and though thankfully drugs and alcohol were not an issue, purpose and self-esteem were. In 1966 I happened to meet someone who, through his example, helped me develop the self-confidence and meaning that I lacked. Was this meeting fortuitous or the result of some design? I sometimes wonder!

For over forty-four years I have worked in many areas of the animal protection field. To that end I have lobbied governments, both at home and abroad, including the European Parliament; attended workshops and international conferences; taken part in discussions with a Senate Committee; presented a brief to the Royal Commission on Seals and the Sealing Industry in Canada; and defended my views in both English and French media outlets. At age thirty, while attending a conference in Vancouver, British Columbia, I became a vegetarian.

I was a board member of the Canadian SPCA during the late seventies and early eighties. I am presently a member of the International Association for Bear Research and Management, a bear specialist group (IBA), and a director of the Animal Alliance of Canada (AAC). I have hands-on experience with bears, and I've completed field courses on black bear conservation and behaviour. I was introduced to the Alaskan brown bear by Dr. Lynn Rogers at Halo Bay in Alaska and have since learned much about the species. Over the past four decades I have been involved with a wide variety of animals ranging from mice to moose. These include issues in agriculture, aquaculture, aquariums, culture, entertainment, the pet industry, ranching, research, and traditional medicines as well as sports and zoos.

The Catalyst

There was obviously a beginning, a catalyst, something that went well beyond merely being kind to animals. While many people are kind to domesticated animals, such as dogs and cats, most other people are barely tolerant. Animals are included in the household for a variety of "wrong reasons": status, protection, meeting the demands of children.

I've lost count of the number of people I've known personally who fit into the image category. This not only applies to domesticated animals, but to horses and wild or exotic species, which are frequently acquired for purposes of self-fulfillment. I've always wondered why you see individuals parading around the city centre with an exotic animal on a lead. Do these people lack some kind of self-esteem? Why the insistence on purebreds? After all, few of us are directly related to royalty, and who wants to be anyway!

At an early age I rationalized eating meat and wearing leather while professing love for my cat or dog. Living in a meat-centered society made it easy, or almost easy. The real-life horror that animals face behind well-guarded institutional doors was as foreign to me as my understanding of quantum physics. I admit to having a suppressed suspicion, but it never went beyond that. What prompted my commitment to defend the interest of animals, irrespective of their species, was an article regarding the East Coast seal hunt that appeared in the now defunct Weekend magazine. In my opinion, this singular issue changed the humane world forever. It certainly changed me, but more on that later.

My Family

My father was a not-so-typical French Canadian, born and raised in Outremont, Québec, and educated at Querbes Academy and Le Collège Mont St-Louis. As a boy, he raised bantam cocks in his father's basement on Durocher Street; he would lie on his back in the garden and allow the bantams to take grain from his lips while the neighbours watched. He often spoke of his pet Boston bull, Bozo, with whom he had spent many hours as a boy. Though he would never admit it publicly, he is quite sensitive when it comes to the care and well-being of animals and never flinched when we brought home a variety of sick or injured birds and rodents.

My mother, of English and Scottish parentage, gave the opposite impression. She was the typical straight-laced, no-nonsense mother who gave the appearance of always being in control. No one would suspect her of being anything but pragmatic on all matters, but appearances can be deceiving. When it came to those in trouble, human or animal, she was always front and centre.

The family mantra, if I can call it that, could best be described in three words: responsibility, service, and image. The last one was always an irritant to my sisters and to me. My parents, it seemed, were obsessed with image.

I always felt that the family hierarchy was well defined. There were of course mother and father at the top, followed by Joanna and Thea, the dog, the cats, the horses, assorted rodents, and finally geOOOOrges with a small g.

One recollection burned into my memory was a comment my mother made on a particularly cold, windy, and miserable January evening. She said, "I wouldn't put a dog out on a night like tonight," and without skipping a beat added, "geOOOOrges, I need cigarettes at the store."

I grew up with my two sisters. They were quite different yet had some traits in common. Joanna, the eldest, introduced me to the humane movement. She was always the one who led the way by bringing home top grades in school and by her winning way with the teachers. Cynthia (Thea) always overanalyzed everything—and still does. She did well in school, but unlike my perception of Joanna's laid-back approach to all things academic, Thea's accomplishments seemed more tactical and studied. As with most of us, she is her own worst critic.

I always felt badly about the fact that, while Joanna and I grew up having few medical problems, Thea was the one who suffered from serious appendicitis, as well as a tooth infection which landed her picture in a dental review and quite honestly could have killed her. I recall that on both these occasions, Thea suffered considerably while lying in her bed at our home in Saint-Laurent. It was later confirmed that these events were the result of incompetence by the attending professionals. Despite this, Thea pursued a long and accomplished career as a registered nurse, devoting herself to patients in critical care.

Both sisters were accomplished riders, and both had their own horses. Joanna's horse was a chestnut, half hackney, half quarter horse, with a black mane and tail. To this day, I'm prepared to swear that Flash was gifted with a strange sense of horse humour, particularly when it came to me.

Unlike my sisters, I could not say riding was my forte. I'm sure that on those few occasions that I did get on Flash, she enjoyed taking me for a ride more than I enjoyed the experience. You will have noted that I used the words get on rather than ride when referring to my equestrian experience. To say I rode would imply that I was somehow in control of the event. Nothing could be further from the truth. I was a student of the Hail Mary school of riding: you close your eyes, hang on tight, and pray.

I remember one occasion when several friends and I visited Joanna and her husband on their 500-acre hobby farm in the North East Kingdom of Vermont, someone had the bright idea that we should all go riding. Horses were selected, and I was assigned a particularly contrary individual named Showdown Lobo.

I soon found out why the appendage "Showdown" enhanced his otherwise ordinary name. Lobo, I was told, was a fair carriage horse but a challenging riding horse with a rubber neck. This meant that he was neither neck-reined nor responsive to English reining. I was to experience this not so endearing trait on a firsthand basis. While the others enjoyed a leisurely ride in the countryside of northern Vermont, I was captive to Showdown's assertion of independence as he took me for a wild ride through the cornfields. Afterward, while removing bits of corn husk from my clothing and teeth, I was treated to the muted giggles of all who had witnessed my embarrassment.

Joanna had a relaxed riding style while Thea's manner was more disciplined. Thea rode a three-gaited American saddle horse with the pretentious name of Lady Princess Hamilton. There was nothing relaxed about the skills required to master riding a horse best described as a pile of nerves. I never really understood dressage as a sport, but it seems to attract the more ostentatious of the horsey set. I'm not suggesting that Thea is that way, but Princess Hamilton was the horse made available to her, and she took full advantage. I would add that Thea did very well in competitive events showing the Grand Lady herself.

Though Flash lived well into her twenties, Princess Hamilton met a sad, accidental death one icy Saturday. To my recollection, Thea never rode competitively, or on a regular basis again. In retrospect, and knowing what occurs in slaughterhouses, the Grand Lady's death was unquestionably more humane than that faced by most horses (see chapter 16).

Over the years, families grow apart as careers take them further afield, and the Dupras family is no exception. Thea moved to Nova Scotia and then west to Alberta where she now lives with her family. Joanna relocated between Montréal and Ottawa but never really lost touch with her roots.

My relationship with my sisters was much the same as any other sibling relationship. We had our disagreements and pet squabbles, but when it came to animals, we stood united and firm in our commitment to their well-being.

On a visit home a few years ago, I recognized that Thea's views regarding animals differed from those that I espoused. I wasn't really surprised, as she had been living in Alberta for a number of years. That province is in many ways the most conservative in Canada. I had inadvertently made the comment that farmers exploit animals, and Thea responded rather defensively. I understood why; she was seeing a man she cared for very much who had grown up in Saskatchewan farm country.

I meant no disrespect but mistakenly tried to extricate myself by explaining why I had made the statement. Thea's response was "Tell me something we don't already know." I found this comment very sad—sad because it was true. Nothing I had said was new, and nothing I had done over the years had changed the reasons I made the comments in the first place. What Thea failed to realize was that I wasn't denigrating farmers but merely stating the fact that we all exploit animals to some degree or another, some more than others.

Despite our occasional misunderstandings, there is no denying Thea's commitment to those in need. As a youngster, she freed live frogs from bait cans, and cared for more abandoned and stray animals than I can remember. Today this same dedication serves her well in her career as a critical care nurse. Our family bonds go well beyond the boundaries governed by socio-economic realities or the miles that divide us.

Joanna and I are more alike in many ways. Though we don't necessarily agree on everything, we have both devoted a lifetime to the humane treatment of animals. Joanna, under the guidance of Brian Davies, was instrumental in coordinating the "Save the Seals" campaign of the mid-sixties. The International Fund for Animal Welfare (IFAW) was later founded by Brian in 1969. She worked for a dozen years as the public relations officer for the Canadian SPCA in Montréal, and some of those years while I was on the board of that society. I have been a Director of the Animal Alliance of Canada (AAC) since 1990, and over that period I have worked on a variety of issues. I feel quite comfortable in confiding in Joanna thoughts I wouldn't convey to anyone else. She has proved more than a sister, but also a good friend and a staunch ally over the years.

The Beginning

As mentioned before, there was a catalyst, something that went well beyond the conventional interest that might lead the average person to take action. That occurred on a Saturday in the mid- sixties. We had received our usual newspaper, and inside there was a national supplement called The Weekend. On this occasion it featured an article on the commercial seal hunt that took place annually on the east coast of Canada. This hunt, we learned, had taken place for some 500 years, give or take a few years when it was suspended due to both World Wars.

The article and graphic photos were so upsetting that I recall saying to my mother in an indignant manner, "How can they let this happen?" with no thought as to who "they" were. I guess I was referring to the authorities, those of whom we demand accountability as we point an accusing finger when we are upset or infuriated.

My mother, in her usual caring but stern manner, replied to the effect that if we weren't prepared to do something ourselves, why should anyone else? What were we prepared to do about it? The choices were ours to make. We could complain or act, but if we were only going to complain, she wasn't interested. I was in my mid teens at the time, and Joanna was some four years older, so we both did what we felt was all we could do. There was a cutout form in the Weekend article that readers were asked to fill out and forward to a Mr. Brian Davies, then of the New Brunswick SPCA. We both signed the form and sent it to Mr. Davies with a short note penned by Joanna. So began a lifelong commitment to protect animals.

A week or so later, Mr. Davies contacted Joanna saying that he would be in Montréal and could they meet. Within a short time, Brian Davies did come to Montréal and met with Joanna as well as a group called Animals in Distress with which Joanna had been working as a volunteer. The group, led by an indefatigable nurse named Julia Longseed, did wonderful work for animals. I suspect that another woman named Margaret Gurd was also at that first meeting. She was a staunch monarchist and, like most expatriates, had a determined character. Margaret was in some way related to the Gurd's ginger ale people and would become a strong advocate for the seals and longtime friend of our family. In the years to follow, Margaret would be one of the Department of Fisheries and Oceans' (DFO) most outspoken irritants.

I can't be certain who else may have been at that first meeting, nor do I recollect why Brian was in Montréal. Was it just to establish a network, or were there media interviews involved? I don't recall.

Brian Davies

It is my belief that if you champion the rights and privileges of democracy, you must be prepared to accept the responsibility these earned gifts dictate. There are two inextricable components that define democracy: Responsibility and Accountability. Recognizing that some accepted practices may be fundamentally wrong, you are duty-bound to act on your beliefs and to be held accountable for your actions.

Brian and Joanna had much in common. Both had winning personalities and a love of horses and dogs as well as a deep commitment to end cruelty wherever they could. Thus, a long-standing working relationship had begun.

Brian, a married Welsh Canadian with two children, had immigrated to Canada after military service in the UK and some temporary work with a coach company called Southdown National. He had secured a job as the executive director of the New Brunswick SPCA, and if memory serves me, he was the only paid employee of the organization at that time. Brian, as executive director, had been asked by the Canadian Federation of Humane Societies (CFHS) to monitor the seal hunt on their behalf. The CFHS can best be described as an umbrella group that represented many, but certainly not all, of the humane societies in Canada.

(Continues...)

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