Anti-animal-research terrorists in the United States aim to
intimidate biomedical scientists into giving up their research
programs, and these radicals are growing bolder. They have
planted bombs, issued death threats and targeted the
children of scientists who don't comply with their
strong-arm tactics. And the leaders of this cabal aspire to
greater crimes. Tim Daley of the Animal Liberation Front has
said, "In a war you have to take up arms and people
will get killed, and I can support that kind of action by
petrol bombing and bombs under cars, and probably at a later
stage, the shooting of vivisectors on their
doorsteps."
Although ALF and other extremist groups aim
their attacks at scientists, almost all of their actual
victims are unseen. "When research laboratories and
university researchers are targeted and attacked, the ones
who lose most are those who are living with a disease or who
are watching a loved one struggling with a devastating
illness," said Senator Orrin Hatch in a 2004 hearing of
the Senate Judiciary Committee. People hoping for a cure
suffer most acutely when scientists experience these mob
tactics. But they aren't the only ones. The extremists
aren't too concerned about who gets hurt as long as it
attracts media attention.
The 70-year-old neighbor of scientist Lynn Fairbanks was
almost one of these victims. Fairbanks is director of the
Center for Primate Neuroethology at the University of
California, Los Angeles. In 2006, the Animal Liberation
Front boasted of leaving a "Molotov Cocktail"
outside Fairbanks's home. But they got the address wrong and
almost immolated the porch of the septuagenarian neighbor.
In 2007, the Animal Liberation Brigade placed a lighted
incendiary device next to a car at the home of Arthur
Rosenbaum, chief of pediatric ophthalmology at UCLA.
Fortunately, the device failed to detonate, but the danger
was serious enough that police evacuated the neighborhood
while the bomb squad disposed of the homemade explosive. On
February 5, 2008, a firebomb was detonated at the home of
Edythe London, professor of psychiatry and pharmacology at UCLA.
It was the second attack on her in four months.
As
outrageous as these incidents are, they garnered little media
attention outside of California. Even a six-figure reward
offered by the City of Los Angeles, UCLA and two federal
agencies failed to make the national news. But if the
general public remained oblivious of this nascent backyard
terrorism, scientists paid close attention.
Dario
Ringach is a tenured professor at UCLA who walked away from a
successful, funded research program in neuroscience after
constant harassment from extremists. The barrage of
insulting phone calls must have been unpleasant, certainly,
but the physical intimidation from people demonstrating in
front of his home was on another level: The demonstrators
wanted him to fear for his family's safety. When strangers
began approaching and frightening his children, it became
too much.
A Growing Problem
These
stories aren't just from southern California. Ed Walsh and his
wife, JoAnn McGee (also a scientist), became targets in
Nebraska. Walsh was head of the developmental auditory
physiology lab at the Boys Town National Research Hospital
in Omaha. A newly hired security guard at the hospital
turned out to be a member of an animal extremist group. This
person video-recorded aspects of Walsh's research, which
involved cochlear surgery in cats. People for the Ethical
Treatment of Animals (PETA) released a suggestively edited
version of the footage and claimed Walsh had violated the
Animal Welfare Act. PETA's claims were later debunked by the
U.S. Department of Agriculture.
The facts of the
case did not deflect the blistering online attacks, personal
confrontations and a merciless threat to kill Walsh's
five-year-old son. In an interview in Maclean's
magazine, Walsh recalled, "The impact on our family is
virtually impossible to assess … I can tell you that
it was huge, devastating. It's a life-altering experience to
have your life, and the lives of your children, so exposed.
Routine daily habits—like turning an ignition switch
or walking across a parking lot—can become
anxiety-ridden." He went on to say, "They didn't
pick on us, per se. Anyone using animals for
anything is a target. PETA recognized the public relations
value in targeting high-profile institutions a long time
ago."
We understand. Several years after Walsh's
experience, we learned that the same individual was working
at our facility, this time as an animal-care technician. As
before, he published edited video of animals used in our
research program in an attempt to shut us down. But just as
in Ed Walsh's case, an extensive USDA investigation found no
substance to the accusations. Our vindication hasn't stopped
these unsupported claims and falsified images from
persisting on the Internet and in animal-extremist brochures to
this day.
The threats and violence are even more
prevalent in some countries. In England, some scientists
have given up their cars rather than having them searched
for bombs every day. Extremists in Oxford and Cambridge used
these intimidation tactics in an effort to stop construction
of an animal facility. Their larger goal was (and is) to
shutter all animal research in the UK. These agitators weren't
novices or students—they were repeat offenders. The
spokesman for one of the groups had already served jail time
for possessing incendiary devices with the intent of bombing
a contract-research organization. They were effective, too,
for a time, temporarily stopping construction at one
facility by threatening construction workers. These
workmen—not a puny or easily frightened
group—were so intimidated that they took to wearing
balaclavas to conceal their identify from protestors trying
to learn their home addresses.
Future Threat
It is
clear that the violence and threatened violence are taking a
toll on researchers. But they are also influencing the career
decisions of students considering this lifework. David Skorton,
president of Cornell University, spoke of his worry that
researchers and students were being scared off by attacks
from animal-rights advocates. ALF, which took credit for
break-ins and property destruction at the University of Iowa
during Skorton's tenure as president there, distributed to
activists the home addresses of scientists who conduct
animal research. "Publicizing this personal information
was blatant intimidation," Skorton pointed out, adding
that because of safety worries, "numerous researchers
are even concerned about allowing their children to play in
their own yards." He acknowledged that the cost of such
intimidation was difficult to quantify, but he believed it
"could be measured by many, many" lives lost. His
words echoed those of Richard Bianco, vice president for
research at the University of Minnesota, where an attack by
vandals in 1999 caused more than $2 million in damage.
"The financial aspect is the least of our problems
… the hardest thing is people see this and don't want
to go into science," he said. "Why would they go
into science when they can have their work threatened like
that?"
For the unlucky individuals who happen to become targets, a
life devoted to medical science comes to resemble that of a
soldier in a war zone. Most persevere, but not all. Who pays
when research scientists give up productive careers? We all
do. When Ringach announced his decision to stop his
research, UCLA issued a statement saying, "we all
suffer when animal rights activists attempt to intimidate
researchers by physically threatening and harassing them and
their families, including young children."
Have all
animal-rights activists embraced these terrorist methods? Of
course not. But Ringach, Fairbanks, Rosenbaum and we are
suffering from those who have. Nonviolent protestors aren't part
of the immediate equation of terror, although they sometimes
(knowingly or not) help pay for it. Extremist Web sites
boasted of their victory over Ringach more than a year after
he sent the e-mail that stated, "You win." That
boast continues to motivate new practitioners of violence
and intimidate scientists who pursue careers in animal
research.
We were taken by the matter-of-fact way that
Robert Dennis at the University of Michigan puts potential
students on notice. His Web site states, almost
casually,
Also, you should be aware that due to the
highly controversial nature of this research, which involves
animal-machine hybrids and, of course, stem cells, you will
constantly be at risk from extremist groups and individuals.
I have personally received many threatening messages, and
one of my personal friends was a victim of the infamous
Unabomber. Animal rights groups are also an issue. You must
be prepared to deal with assaults from every quarter . . .
.
To date, these attacks have been relatively
infrequent, and no one has been killed. Indeed, many people
who tout animal rights claim that their actions are intended
to protect human and animal life. But the leaders of these
movements have stated, for the record, their endorsement of
every tactic described above. A sampling:
"Arson,
property destruction, burglary and threat are 'acceptable
crimes' when used for the animal cause." (Alex Pacheco,
co-founder of PETA. Quoted in an Associated Press News
feature, January 3, 1989)
"I would be overjoyed
when the first scientist is killed by a liberation
activist." (Vivien Smith, former spokesperson for ALF.
Quoted in USA Today, September 3, 1991)
"Property destruction is a legitimate political tool
called economic sabotage, and it's meant to attack
businesses and corporations." (David Barbarash,
spokesperson for ALF. Interview on "The
Connection," National Public Radio, January 7,
2002)
"I don't think you'd have to
kill—assassinate—too many [doctors involved with
animal testing] … I think for 5 lives, 10 lives, 15
human lives, we could save a million, 2 million, 10 million
non-human lives." (Jerry Vlasak, spokesperson for the
Animal Defense League. Speech at "Animal Rights 2003,"
Los Angeles. August 3, 2003)
These comments strip away
any pretense of nonviolence that groups like PETA may claim.
This is naked intimidation, the kind that influences the
career decisions of young researchers. It is heartening to
see scientists fight back—UCLA recently announced a
lawsuit against ALF and other extremist groups in response
to their harassment of its investigators. And the Animal
Enterprise Terrorism Act passed last year by Congress is a step
in the right direction. But many more steps remain to be
taken. The most important of these is that society must
understand the connection between its medical care and
animal research. They must understand that new drugs,
medical devices and procedures cannot enter the clinic
without animal testing. And they must know that animal
research is heavily regulated and humane.
Federal
standards require that all university-sponsored animal
research in the United States—including the work of
everyone discussed in this essay—is humane. By law,
scientists who use animals must minimize any pain or
suffering in those animals. They must also ensure that every
animal has fresh water, nutritious food, clean bedding and
species-specific enrichment activities—conditions far
better than those experienced by animals raised for human
consumption. Research projects that fail to do any of these
things are not approved, and any scientist who violates an
approved animal protocol risks the revocation of animal-use
privileges. The USDA, which oversees animal research in this
country, randomly inspects animal facilities, typically twice a
year. And many institutions, including our own, volunteer for
additional inspections by the Association for Assessment and
Accreditation of Laboratory Animal Care.
We hope that
the rise in antiscience terrorism will be countered by a
rise in public support for the value of scientific research. The
alternative is greater human suffering. As media officials at
UCLA said following the Ringach episode, "To use
violent tactics aimed at halting animal research is to take
away hope from millions of people with cancer, AIDS, heart
disease and hundreds of other diseases."