"Well, I plan to open a file on them, too," I assured him. "But, I promise not to put any falsehoods in my file if they don't put any falsehoods in theirs."
"Go if you want. It's legit, but take my number in case."
My plan was to serve as an ambassador for the animal rights movement and to convey through my lecture the truth about how animals suffer under human oppression, as well as to present philosophical arguments as to why animals are of equal value to humans and worthy of equal consideration. I wanted my audience to understand that anti-terrorism resources should be used to combat dangerous groups who fly planes into buildings, rather than renegade gerbil lovers. It would not be realistic to suggest that animal-related "crimes" be ignored, but I argued they be deprioritized in an age when chemical, biological and nuclear warfare are possible.
An ominous feeling tented the empty road and thick woods in Quantico, and the sound of guns slammed through the air. I met Special Agent Andy, a fine host for the FBI, at the first security checkpoint, and he immediately drove me past a sign, which read, "Danger. Field Firing in Process." Was this disclaimer the result of an accident? Perhaps a speaker had been shot in her compact rental car. I scanned for stray bullets.
Andy took me on a brief tour of the grounds, pointing out a pretend town called Hogan's Alley with fake storefronts, including a bank in which actors are hired at $12.00 per hour to play "robber," "hostage" or "drug dealer" with FBI trainees.
I laughed, "Do the actors ever win?" Andy gave me a stern look, "We take that very seriously. It is not good to get shot even in playtime."
Andy had a penchant""as did all the agents I met""for comparing their work with crime shows and movies. At one point he mentioned, "We (the FBI) are more like Barney Miller than James Bond. More paperwork than adventure." In many ways, the afternoon was a crash course in TV trivia.
The presentation room was a small lecture hall with a podium, microphone and display screen for the speaker, and fixed seats on ascending levels for attendees. I was told that two FBI psychologists would sit in on my lecture. Although the psychologists were charming, I felt their aim was to scrutinize me, to learn how to squash the animal rights movement. I felt the others were there to learn.
My presentation began with undercover video footage inside a vivisection lab. It showed a man in a white coat pounding on a Beagle puppy and forcing tubes down several dogs' throats; the animals were clearly in distress. I surmised cleaning liquids or pesticides would be poured down the tubes since they were routinely tested at this lab. In another clip, monkeys screamed while their penises were electrocuted by scientists.
Andy shouted from the back of the room, "The FBI will prosecute this sort of cruelty if videos like this are brought to our attention."
I pointed out that obtaining undercover video is illegal in itself, even more so with the advent of the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act, which states that a person can be prosecuted if he or she causes over $10,000 worth of economic damage to a corporation that uses animals. Showing undercover video could cause investors to sell their stocks, decimating profits. Those who unveil the video could face time in prison and fines.
In addition, I told the crowd that it was unlikely the barbarous treatment of dogs and monkeys in the footage was against the law. And even if it was, prosecution tends to result in nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Because animals are property, and the law generally finds it acceptable to use and kill animals for human gain, imposing prison terms and steep fines on large corporations""who have even larger lawyers--is rare.
During my lecture, I was able to get several law enforcement executives to admit openly that they would break the law, if necessary, to rescue an animal in distress, although they did not specifically agree to break into a research lab or factory farm. This was quite an accomplishment because prior to the presentation, Andy had privately told me that any FBI agent who did not or could not (for ethical reasons) uphold all US laws would be fired. My audience was mostly non-FBI so they surely kept their jobs.
Andy was keen on discussing "solutions" for bridging the gap between "them and us," although he hinted that the Bureau's favored tactic was to develop a network of spies within the animal movement who would report illegal actions. I told Andy this strategy was sure to fail because I had been a loyal animal rights person for 25 years, and had only heard about two so-called criminals: the aforementioned renegade researcher and pigeon man, neither connected to the movement.
I was pleased with Andy's desire to better the relationship between law enforcement and animal rights activists and offered the following suggestions. First, I said that law enforcement could advise the President and Congress to support legislation that improves the situation for nonhumans and to enforce existing anti-cruelty laws. The FBI could also place "weeding out animal cruelty" higher on its "to do" list.
Secondly, I suggested that the FBI work on bettering its image and investigate real terrorists rather than plunging into what is perceived as a modern-day Inquisition. It was both curious and alarming that every person who found out about my speaking engagement "freaked out." This mistrust no doubt largely stemmed from the problematic history of the FBI; which is detailed in Richard Gid Powers' book, Broken: The Troubled Past and Uncertain Future of the FBI. Powers argues that the Bureau hones in on any issue that "represent(s) the fears and hatred of the masses or classes," rather than investigating those crimes that most offend the law or pose the gravest danger, an allegation that coincides with what animal and environmental supporters call today's "Green Scare."
"Go if you want. It's legit, but take my number in case."
My plan was to serve as an ambassador for the animal rights movement and to convey through my lecture the truth about how animals suffer under human oppression, as well as to present philosophical arguments as to why animals are of equal value to humans and worthy of equal consideration. I wanted my audience to understand that anti-terrorism resources should be used to combat dangerous groups who fly planes into buildings, rather than renegade gerbil lovers. It would not be realistic to suggest that animal-related "crimes" be ignored, but I argued they be deprioritized in an age when chemical, biological and nuclear warfare are possible.
An ominous feeling tented the empty road and thick woods in Quantico, and the sound of guns slammed through the air. I met Special Agent Andy, a fine host for the FBI, at the first security checkpoint, and he immediately drove me past a sign, which read, "Danger. Field Firing in Process." Was this disclaimer the result of an accident? Perhaps a speaker had been shot in her compact rental car. I scanned for stray bullets.
I laughed, "Do the actors ever win?" Andy gave me a stern look, "We take that very seriously. It is not good to get shot even in playtime."
Andy had a penchant""as did all the agents I met""for comparing their work with crime shows and movies. At one point he mentioned, "We (the FBI) are more like Barney Miller than James Bond. More paperwork than adventure." In many ways, the afternoon was a crash course in TV trivia.
The presentation room was a small lecture hall with a podium, microphone and display screen for the speaker, and fixed seats on ascending levels for attendees. I was told that two FBI psychologists would sit in on my lecture. Although the psychologists were charming, I felt their aim was to scrutinize me, to learn how to squash the animal rights movement. I felt the others were there to learn.
My presentation began with undercover video footage inside a vivisection lab. It showed a man in a white coat pounding on a Beagle puppy and forcing tubes down several dogs' throats; the animals were clearly in distress. I surmised cleaning liquids or pesticides would be poured down the tubes since they were routinely tested at this lab. In another clip, monkeys screamed while their penises were electrocuted by scientists.
Andy shouted from the back of the room, "The FBI will prosecute this sort of cruelty if videos like this are brought to our attention."
I pointed out that obtaining undercover video is illegal in itself, even more so with the advent of the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act, which states that a person can be prosecuted if he or she causes over $10,000 worth of economic damage to a corporation that uses animals. Showing undercover video could cause investors to sell their stocks, decimating profits. Those who unveil the video could face time in prison and fines.
In addition, I told the crowd that it was unlikely the barbarous treatment of dogs and monkeys in the footage was against the law. And even if it was, prosecution tends to result in nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Because animals are property, and the law generally finds it acceptable to use and kill animals for human gain, imposing prison terms and steep fines on large corporations""who have even larger lawyers--is rare.
During my lecture, I was able to get several law enforcement executives to admit openly that they would break the law, if necessary, to rescue an animal in distress, although they did not specifically agree to break into a research lab or factory farm. This was quite an accomplishment because prior to the presentation, Andy had privately told me that any FBI agent who did not or could not (for ethical reasons) uphold all US laws would be fired. My audience was mostly non-FBI so they surely kept their jobs.
Andy was keen on discussing "solutions" for bridging the gap between "them and us," although he hinted that the Bureau's favored tactic was to develop a network of spies within the animal movement who would report illegal actions. I told Andy this strategy was sure to fail because I had been a loyal animal rights person for 25 years, and had only heard about two so-called criminals: the aforementioned renegade researcher and pigeon man, neither connected to the movement.
I was pleased with Andy's desire to better the relationship between law enforcement and animal rights activists and offered the following suggestions. First, I said that law enforcement could advise the President and Congress to support legislation that improves the situation for nonhumans and to enforce existing anti-cruelty laws. The FBI could also place "weeding out animal cruelty" higher on its "to do" list.
Secondly, I suggested that the FBI work on bettering its image and investigate real terrorists rather than plunging into what is perceived as a modern-day Inquisition. It was both curious and alarming that every person who found out about my speaking engagement "freaked out." This mistrust no doubt largely stemmed from the problematic history of the FBI; which is detailed in Richard Gid Powers' book, Broken: The Troubled Past and Uncertain Future of the FBI. Powers argues that the Bureau hones in on any issue that "represent(s) the fears and hatred of the masses or classes," rather than investigating those crimes that most offend the law or pose the gravest danger, an allegation that coincides with what animal and environmental supporters call today's "Green Scare."
(Note: You can view every article as one long page if you sign up as an Advocate Member, or higher).
