It has long been taken for granted by the mainstream tradition in animal ethics that if one is to be properly convinced of a claim like ‘all animals are equal,’ the convincing must done via logical argumentation. I aim to show that there is nothing obvious nor inevitable about such a conclusion. Rather, its appeal depends solely on a set of dubious assumptions (moral in nature) that have not been made explicit: that rationality is always the human capacity most essential to morality, that it is preferable for our values to be chosen by us rather than let them be dictated by our circumstances, and that the reasons we give in defense of these choices ought to be formulated in a language general enough so that anyone, no matter who they are and what they happen to care about, can understand and appreciate them. Contrary to such a picture of moral life, I argue that the exercise of the imagination is also important to the practice of morality, that value is not always chosen but is sometimes discovered as a result of attending selflessly to the world, and that the reasons we give for our choices are sometimes deeply personal and thus not easily understood by others who happen to differ significantly from us. From this alternative account of the moral life, a different approach to persuasion may be derived: what I, following Iris Murdoch, will be calling ‘the sharing of a vision.’ I end by exploring the ramifications that this method of persuasion may have for grassroots animal advocacy.   


On Fantasy and Fighting Bulls: Machismo and Animality in Modern Spain (monograph)

In this monograph, I develop an argument that I first advanced in my dissertation: that often animals serve as a vehicle for concealed meanings, and public discourse about them serves the purpose of gaining control over aspects of our lives that we dare not speak about publicly. Looking at the Spanish bullfight as an example, I advance the thesis that the growing social opposition to the bullfight can be partly explained as Spain’s attempt to fully sever its ties with oppressive gender ideologies (remnants of the Franco era), and partly as a consequence of the country’s growing ecological awareness. In both cases, there exists a shift in the collective self-definition of a people: a move away from I call “fantasies” of machismo and human supremacy—both exemplified and given voice in the ritual of the bullfight—towards a shared vision of a more inclusive and compassionate Spain.


The Jokes on Us: Making Sense of Animals' Senses of Humor
(Edited collection with Deborah Slicer, Bloomsbury Press)

Do animals other than humans delight in subverted expectations that result in ludicrous incongruities; find unfortunate others sources of amusement; release repressed impulses and pent-up energy in wildly inappropriate contexts and actions; do they joke—perhaps tease or engage in physical slapstick—to initiate play or as a kind of play; are they shaken by what C.K. Chesterton called a “beautiful madness,” laughter? In short, do other animals have senses of humor? Almost without exception, writers on humor exclude nonhuman animals from the redic universe. But contributors to Jokesters take seriously other animals’ notions and enactments of funny. Social and biological scientists share relevant anecdotes, field and lab studies, theories about the evolutionary function and trajectory of humor. Philosophers and other scholars in Animal Studies respond to varieties of skeptics who deny nonhuman animals have the cognitive hard drive to experience humor. Jokesters also includes contributions from practitioners--veterinarians and rehabilitators, professionals who by necessity have learned to “speak” horse or elephant or bear in order to stay safe while being intimate, which includes joking, with animals.
Humor is a complicated social experience, probably most satisfying when shared with those who share our sense of life. It’s also essentially joyful, a hit of the universe’s vital elan. As social, as joyful, contributors make the case that humor has moral traction and thus practical consequences for how we treat our animal kin.


Wolves in the American Imagination: An Undergraduate Research Project, in collaboration with The IDEA Center at Texas State University

The wolf has had a vexed relationship to civilization. Often admired and emulated, other times feared and vilified, we have a tendency to project onto them the best and the worst features of ourselves. Even today, controversy over the wolf and its proper relation to human-kind rages on in states like Montana, Colorado, and Idaho. Is it okay to hunt them and trap them or should they be federally protected? Should we introduce them into states that used to be part of their native range before being extirpated? How can we best balance the fears and frustrations of cattle and sheep farmers with the needs of the ecosystem? The discussions that ensue often depend little on the available science or sound argumentation, but are more fundamentally about what ‘the wolf’ means to us. This project will consist, first, in charting the varied and complex mythology of the wolf in America. Second, we will test the hypothesis that discourse about wolves often serves the purpose of gaining control over aspects of our lives that frighten us and that we dare not speak about publicly. By the end, my hope is that we will be able to answer the following two questions: What is the root of the current antipathy towards wolves? And why have arguments in favor of reintroduction/coexistence so far failed to persuade?