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Acknowledgments

The first expedition that initiated this research project began with an unanticipated foray during a delightful summer residence in 2010 at the University of Cambridge. For this I have philosopher Michael Banner to blame. At the time, I was making steady progress on a previous work, The Transplant Imaginary, a project concerned with the embodied consequences of non-human forms of organ replacement from the stance of associated inventors, immunologists, and others whose attentiveness to animals surprised me. During this residency, Michael and I collaborated on a small-scale ethnographic project on moral thinking in animal science, which began with the joint supervision of a student assistant. My curiosity was sparked, and I found firsthand engagement irresistible. The ensuing journey has been extraordinary, and I owe it all to Michael for handing me that first ticket, opening the train door, and nudging me off the platform and straight on board.

Research on the moral underpinnings of animal science is not a project for the faint of heart. As I demonstrate throughout Animal Ethos, the determination to advance scientific knowledge and practices that could alleviate future suffering in both human and animal patients is laden with moral challenges. My indebtedness to those who have helped me understand this runs deep. Throughout this research I encountered a host of remarkable people, whose generosity of time, patience with anthropological probing, and openness as interviewees have left deep impressions. The rigorous requirements of anthropology’s code of ethics, undergirded by confidentiality, prevent me from identifying individuals and institutions by name. I nevertheless wish to thank the many lab researchers, animal care technicians, veterinarians, animal activists, and bioethicists who participated in this research initially in England and, subsequently, the United States. Their willingness to engage in sometimes difficult conversations; allow me to shadow them in their labs; and invite me to attend closed training sessions, professional workshops, and specialized conferences have proved invaluable to me. In retrospect, I realize how fortunate I was to conduct ethnographic research in academic labs that adhere to high standards of animal welfare, where humane care and associated innovative enrichment strategies were considered essential aspects of daily lab regimens. This enabled me—and, I believe, research participants too—to partake in complex discussions of, say, the meaning and challenges of quality care rather than lapses in or disregard for animal life. The polarization of animal research and activism nevertheless loomed large as a significant—and important—challenge throughout this project. In this light, I am grateful to every individual—including the institutional gatekeepers—who trusted my assertions of moral neutrality as a professional anthropologist and who let me in the door, introduced me to relevant parties, and granted me permission to duplicate the images that pepper the pages of this book.

This book would not have been possible without ongoing financial and associated forms of support. I am forever grateful to my friends, colleagues, and administrators at Barnard College and Columbia University for their wide range of contributions. Funding through several faculty minigrants, alongside annual support associated with an Ann Whitney Olin Chair and, more recently, the Barbara Chamberlain and Helen Chamberlain Josefsberg ’30 Professorship in Anthropology, have done much to sustain this project from its initial phase to its completion. I would not be writing these words now were it not for the generosity of a year-long residency in 2015–2016 as the Mary I. Bunting Fellow at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study at Harvard University. I am in awe of Judy Vichniac and her staff’s extraordinary gifts in assembling, year after year, a diverse, interdisciplinary array of scholars while fostering community too. (My mother, an alumna, would be thrilled to know Radcliffe lives on in such a vital form.) I am especially grateful to Tina Duhaime, Robert Huber, Raj Pandit, Michael Pollan, Steve Takasugi, and Reiko Yamada, whose work with—or thinking through—animals (and, sometimes, in science) inspired me think more carefully and deeply about my own. I thank, too, Karole Armitage, Maryanne Kowaleski, Mitchell Luskin, Scott Milner, Alyssa Mt. Pleasant, Athina Tsangari, Sharon Weinberger, and especially Shane Bobrycki, Brenda Chalfin, and Alice Lyons for being sounding boards or just plain good company. I will never forget the kindness of Joyce and Ty Bell, who came to my aid when I was in need. Ashton Macfarlane proved to be a truly gifted Research Partner throughout my Radcliffe fellowship; he has left his mark everywhere in this book. Throughout the year, the warm invitations I received from Mary-Jo Delvecchio Good, Erica James, and Michael Fisher to participate in their very lively joint Harvard-MIT Friday seminar in medical anthropology offered a steady supply of inspiration and a strong sense of community. Additional support the following year, in the form of an intensive Exploratory Seminar called “Beyond the Trope of Sacrifice” through Radcliffe’s Academic Ventures initiative, served as a lovely reminder of how precious time at Radcliffe can be. I do hope those who joined this event found that our two days together inspired their work as much as theirs has inspired mine.

On assorted home fronts, many others have sustained and nourished me. I am fortunate to have wonderful colleagues and friends in my life, whose insights, friendly nudges, and general support have sparked both my tinkering with and my overhauling of ideas. Very special thanks are due to those at Barnard and Columbia, including Paige West, Sev Fowles, Nadia Abu El-Haj, Linda Bell, Jennifer Hirsch, Kim Hopper, and Carole Vance, and still other fellow anthropologists and animal experts elsewhere, including Nancy Chen, Stephen Foster, Linda Green, Anja Jensen, Lisa Jones-Engel, Katie Kilroy-Marac, Lene Koch, Mary Beth Mills, Lynn Morgan, Lisa Moses, Todd Nicewonger, Mette Svendsen, Janelle Taylor, and Jen Van Tiem. A host of students—too numerous to count—offered stimulating and provocative readings of much related material over recent years; I am especially thankful to my senior thesis advisees and to others enrolled in my Barnard and Columbia courses “Absent Bodies,” “Animal Matters,” “Animal Ethos,” and “The Medical Imaginary,” alongside a cohort of remarkable Fishkill students from the Bard Prison Initiative, for challenging and destabilizing many of my own assumptions. In turn, still others remind me all the time how dear their friendships are to me, especially Susie Blalock and Al Lyon, Maureen Hickey and Michael Grider, Lucy Painter and Malaga Baldi, Karin and Bill Tuttle, Heather Altfeld and Troy Jollymore, Paula Rubel and Abe Rosman, Zoë Strother and Jonathan Reynolds, The Monkeeys, Erika Doss, Inderpal Grewal, Tovah Klein, Vinita Seghal, Lisa Tiersten, Vanessa Uelman, and Maxine Weisgrau. I punctuate this account with a special set of callouts to the neighbors and strangers who rushed to my aid when I busted my collarbone; to my dear friend Karin who rescued me (and soon thereafter, alongside Mr. Bill, Ms. Zookie); and to Sev Fowles, Fabiola Lafontant, and Miranda Hansen-Hunt, alongside a wonderful orthopedist and a skilled pair of PT experts who together relieved, sustained, and bolstered me as I healed.

At UC Press, I am deeply thankful to Naomi Schneider, a wonderful editor who sets the gold standard for the field; to her assistant, Benjy Malings, who has consistently kept this project on track; to my production editor, Nicholle Robertson; and to Sarah Hudgens, a talented copy editor who strikes the perfect balance between revision and refinement. I also thank Carrie Friese and two anonymous readers who provided invaluable comments on an early draft. Any errors or missteps detected here are my own.

To return once again to the book’s core, as the ensuing chapters reveal, sacrifice, death, and loss are potent sites of moral thought and action, whether one works with or advocates for the rights of lab animals. Related themes reverberate in my own life, and as I sought to complete this work, I lost three people very dear to me. As I drafted this work, my wonderful younger brother, Erik, died suddenly and without warning; the sole blessing amid this terrible tragedy was that I was nearby when it happened. I dedicate this book to him as a tiny acknowledgment of how his love, quixotic sense of humor, and fortitude continue to inspire me each and every day. I am so very blessed to have been part of his extraordinary life. Elizabeth Colson, yet another truly remarkable person, passed too. Upon my arrival in 1983 at the University of California, Berkeley, as a fledgling graduate student, I asked to work with her; during our first encounter she made it very clear she would guide me for only one year because she was intent on retiring. Colson, nevertheless, broke her pledge, tracking my progress and offering bold, unsolicited comments on nearly every bit of scholarship I have produced, thus mentoring me for more than three decades. She died in Zambia in 2016, sitting on her veranda and listening to birdsong, just shy of her hundredth birthday. She, too, defines a significant presence here, most especially as a trustworthy moral compass of ethnographic engagement. A third blow came when a dear, dear mentor, colleague, friend, and surrogate kinswoman, Paula Rubel, died unexpectedly in May 2018. As all who know her can attest, she was a formidable presence at Barnard, Columbia, and beyond. Paula has shaped my professional and personal life profoundly for the last twenty-four years, and without her prodding, guidance, and unwavering support I would not be where I am today. Her warmth, determination, and brilliance have always been, and will remain, reminders of all I would ever hope to be.

Finally, at the beginning and end of every day, I am moved by the love of two lively characters in my life. First and most of all, my son, Alex, who has grown into a strong and remarkable man and whose skills, insights, and empathy inspire both delight and awe within me. And then, trotting alongside us or ricocheting back and forth along the mountain hiking path, is Ms. Zookie, a tenacious and beloved companion who inevitably insists on following her own moral code.