Moral Tales, session 4: In Another's Shoes; why I don't want to protest the Canadian harp seal hunt
Today's lesson was about the principle of empathy, or putting yourself in another's place. The story was "The Wounded Seal," an adaptation of a Scottish folktale. The text of the curriculum version (without the interactive interjections) is as follows:
The Wounded Seal
Adapted from a Scottish folktale in The Fairy Mythology by Thomas Keightley (George Bell & Sons, 1882).
Long ago in Scotland there was a small fishing village that stood at the edge of the sea. Now in this village was a man who had made his living from the killing of seals and selling their skins in the market. His father and grandfather before him had done it and it was the only way that he knew how to make a living.
One day the Seal Hunter got into his small boat and rowed out from the rocky shores. He rowed, and rowed until he came to the place where the seals were gathered. He put in his oars and let the boat drift. He watched as the seals swam, and played together.
Soon a large grey seal came up beside the boat. Quickly he stabbed his knife into the seal, and reached for his net. But before he could throw the net over the seal it swam away, with the Seal Hunter's knife still in its side.
The Seal Hunter fished for small fish that day, and then rowed home.
That night as he was eating his dinner there came a knock on the door. There stood a woman who had come to his door on horseback. She was handsomely dressed, but her eyes were sad. "There is a rich man who would like to buy many seal skins from you," she said. "I will take you to him."
She beckoned for the Seal Hunter to jump up behind her on her horse and they rode like the wind. Soon they came to the edge of the cliffs and they dismounted. The Seal Hunter looked around but he could not see anyone else there. He was about to ask where the rich man was, when the handsome woman took him by the hand and pulled him over the edge of the cliff. Down, down they fell through the air and then into the cold sea below.
They swam deeper and deeper and soon the Seal Hunter realized that he could breathe under water. In fact he saw that his body and that of his companion had become seal bodies.
They swam deeper and deeper under the water until they came to a cave opening in the side of the rock face. They swam into the cave.
As they swam deeper and deeper into the cave, the Seal Hunter realized that they were in a great seal compound, a place with halls and rooms where many seals lived. The halls were dimly lit, but he could see many seals watching them as they swam by. All of the seals looked very sad, and there was a gloomy feeling all around them.
Suddenly his companion stopped and showed the Seal Hunter a large fishing knife. "Is this yours?" she asked.
"Yes," said the Seal Hunter honestly. "I lost it today when I speared large seal that swam away with it."
"That seal is my father," said the companion. "He now lies dying, and only you can save him."
They came at that point into a darkened room. In the center of the room on a flat rock was a large seal with a deep wound in his hindquarters. All around, seals stood, looking on sadly.
"Lay your hands upon the wound," instructed the companion.
The Seal Hunter felt afraid, but he swam forward and placed his hand over the wound of the seal. All the seals swam closer to watch him.
The Seal Hunter was surprised to feel a great surge of feelings coming from the seal when he placed his hand upon the wound. They were feelings that he had never felt so strongly before. There was great pain, and sadness, and hopelessness, as if the world would never be right again.
But gradually the wound began to heal, and as it did the Seal Hunter began to feel peace spread through him, and then hope, and then the greatest joy.
Suddenly the large seal rose up as if he had never been injured. There was great rejoicing in the compound.
The Seal Hunter's companion took him by the arm and said to him, "I will take you home now, but first you must promise that you will never hunt seals again."
The man did not know how he would ever make a living, but he also knew that he could not hurt the seals again.
The two swam up out of the cave, and up, up through the cold green water to the surface, and then flew up, up through the air until they stood on the cliffs again. They jumped on the horse's back and rode like the wind back to the man's home.
There he jumped down from the horse. As his companion turned to go, she thanked the Seal Hunter. He saw that her eyes were no longer sad. The man kept his word and he never hunted the seals again.
The End
---------------
---------------
Afterwards we played a cooperative version of musical chairs, where the goal was for each child to stand with two feet on a small carpet square -- and one square was removed each time the music stopped. Eventually we were down to one square and they had to hold onto each other tightly to make sure everyone could get even a single foot onto the carpet. So that was fun. We also did one empathy act-in-out scenario, involving a bully on a playground making fun of another child's hair, a couple friends egging the bully on, and a bunch of bystanders not intervening.
This is all well and good.
The thing is, next week when the lesson continues, we are meant to do a Faith in Action segment wherein the kids write a letter to the Canadian government protesting the annual harp seal hunt. I will have to teach that.
I do not agree with that protest letter.
Look, I would not go out and kill seals myself. (For one thing, the job involves way too much ice and cold weather for my taste. For another, I don't think I have the requisite arm strength.) I do also think there are some issues with the age limits on seals legally allowed to be hunted.
But then I remember that I eat veal on occasion, so I don't think I have any moral legs to stand on when talking about the death of baby animals. Furthermore, I did a bit of research on Saturday in preparation for the lesson, and I have to say, if the idea is to protest inhumane treatment of animals, I think it would be much more useful to protest factory farming of livestock in America. It would also be a better lesson, because it would demonstrate that we shouldn't only care for animals because they're wild and cute (like seals) -- the ones people ignore as commonplace and/or consider dirty/ugly/stupid (cows, pigs, chickens) deserve our empathy and sympathy just as much, or even more because we're the ones who breed them, whereas wild seals are bred and born without human interference.
You see, I find nothing wrong with hunting in principle. Omnivorous and carnivorous animals kill and eat other animals. Humans are omnivorous animals. The very fact that we can eat meat tells you as much.
The issue arises when humans kill other animals for no reason, or in too great numbers, or in inhumane fashions. From what I can tell, the methods used in the Canadian seal hunt are actually fairly humane if they are followed correctly. So while I would be willing to ask the Canadian government to lower their quota numbers, or to include more training and/or observers to make sure the correct killing methods are being followed and quotas are not overrun, I do not agree with a blanket letter protesting the hunt in and of itself.
I am not sure how to explain that to the kids while still helping them write a letter and not undermining the general thrust of the lesson.
And I hate that I have been put in this situation by the reflexive attitudes of my religion. We are supposed to be a religion that encompases many viewpoints and honors them all! I want my viewpoint to be honored instead of being made to feel that I am a heartless evil person because I am not automatically horrified by the death of cute wild animals.
(I have a similar issue with people who protest deer hunting, incidentally. Deer may be cute, and Bambi may renew the love of generation after generation of children, but do you know what deer are on the east coast of the USA? They are a goddamn nuisance. They destroy gardens, they kill trees, they are a serious traffic hazard, they carry ticks, they wander around downtowns causing chaos, etc. "Rats with hooves" is a useful description. And their population has exploded because they have no wild predators left in the area, and because people go all melty over their big brown eyes and won't let them be culled in a sensible fashion.
It drives me nuts.)
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The Wounded Seal
Adapted from a Scottish folktale in The Fairy Mythology by Thomas Keightley (George Bell & Sons, 1882).
Long ago in Scotland there was a small fishing village that stood at the edge of the sea. Now in this village was a man who had made his living from the killing of seals and selling their skins in the market. His father and grandfather before him had done it and it was the only way that he knew how to make a living.
One day the Seal Hunter got into his small boat and rowed out from the rocky shores. He rowed, and rowed until he came to the place where the seals were gathered. He put in his oars and let the boat drift. He watched as the seals swam, and played together.
Soon a large grey seal came up beside the boat. Quickly he stabbed his knife into the seal, and reached for his net. But before he could throw the net over the seal it swam away, with the Seal Hunter's knife still in its side.
The Seal Hunter fished for small fish that day, and then rowed home.
That night as he was eating his dinner there came a knock on the door. There stood a woman who had come to his door on horseback. She was handsomely dressed, but her eyes were sad. "There is a rich man who would like to buy many seal skins from you," she said. "I will take you to him."
She beckoned for the Seal Hunter to jump up behind her on her horse and they rode like the wind. Soon they came to the edge of the cliffs and they dismounted. The Seal Hunter looked around but he could not see anyone else there. He was about to ask where the rich man was, when the handsome woman took him by the hand and pulled him over the edge of the cliff. Down, down they fell through the air and then into the cold sea below.
They swam deeper and deeper and soon the Seal Hunter realized that he could breathe under water. In fact he saw that his body and that of his companion had become seal bodies.
They swam deeper and deeper under the water until they came to a cave opening in the side of the rock face. They swam into the cave.
As they swam deeper and deeper into the cave, the Seal Hunter realized that they were in a great seal compound, a place with halls and rooms where many seals lived. The halls were dimly lit, but he could see many seals watching them as they swam by. All of the seals looked very sad, and there was a gloomy feeling all around them.
Suddenly his companion stopped and showed the Seal Hunter a large fishing knife. "Is this yours?" she asked.
"Yes," said the Seal Hunter honestly. "I lost it today when I speared large seal that swam away with it."
"That seal is my father," said the companion. "He now lies dying, and only you can save him."
They came at that point into a darkened room. In the center of the room on a flat rock was a large seal with a deep wound in his hindquarters. All around, seals stood, looking on sadly.
"Lay your hands upon the wound," instructed the companion.
The Seal Hunter felt afraid, but he swam forward and placed his hand over the wound of the seal. All the seals swam closer to watch him.
The Seal Hunter was surprised to feel a great surge of feelings coming from the seal when he placed his hand upon the wound. They were feelings that he had never felt so strongly before. There was great pain, and sadness, and hopelessness, as if the world would never be right again.
But gradually the wound began to heal, and as it did the Seal Hunter began to feel peace spread through him, and then hope, and then the greatest joy.
Suddenly the large seal rose up as if he had never been injured. There was great rejoicing in the compound.
The Seal Hunter's companion took him by the arm and said to him, "I will take you home now, but first you must promise that you will never hunt seals again."
The man did not know how he would ever make a living, but he also knew that he could not hurt the seals again.
The two swam up out of the cave, and up, up through the cold green water to the surface, and then flew up, up through the air until they stood on the cliffs again. They jumped on the horse's back and rode like the wind back to the man's home.
There he jumped down from the horse. As his companion turned to go, she thanked the Seal Hunter. He saw that her eyes were no longer sad. The man kept his word and he never hunted the seals again.
The End
---------------
---------------
Afterwards we played a cooperative version of musical chairs, where the goal was for each child to stand with two feet on a small carpet square -- and one square was removed each time the music stopped. Eventually we were down to one square and they had to hold onto each other tightly to make sure everyone could get even a single foot onto the carpet. So that was fun. We also did one empathy act-in-out scenario, involving a bully on a playground making fun of another child's hair, a couple friends egging the bully on, and a bunch of bystanders not intervening.
This is all well and good.
The thing is, next week when the lesson continues, we are meant to do a Faith in Action segment wherein the kids write a letter to the Canadian government protesting the annual harp seal hunt. I will have to teach that.
I do not agree with that protest letter.
Look, I would not go out and kill seals myself. (For one thing, the job involves way too much ice and cold weather for my taste. For another, I don't think I have the requisite arm strength.) I do also think there are some issues with the age limits on seals legally allowed to be hunted.
But then I remember that I eat veal on occasion, so I don't think I have any moral legs to stand on when talking about the death of baby animals. Furthermore, I did a bit of research on Saturday in preparation for the lesson, and I have to say, if the idea is to protest inhumane treatment of animals, I think it would be much more useful to protest factory farming of livestock in America. It would also be a better lesson, because it would demonstrate that we shouldn't only care for animals because they're wild and cute (like seals) -- the ones people ignore as commonplace and/or consider dirty/ugly/stupid (cows, pigs, chickens) deserve our empathy and sympathy just as much, or even more because we're the ones who breed them, whereas wild seals are bred and born without human interference.
You see, I find nothing wrong with hunting in principle. Omnivorous and carnivorous animals kill and eat other animals. Humans are omnivorous animals. The very fact that we can eat meat tells you as much.
The issue arises when humans kill other animals for no reason, or in too great numbers, or in inhumane fashions. From what I can tell, the methods used in the Canadian seal hunt are actually fairly humane if they are followed correctly. So while I would be willing to ask the Canadian government to lower their quota numbers, or to include more training and/or observers to make sure the correct killing methods are being followed and quotas are not overrun, I do not agree with a blanket letter protesting the hunt in and of itself.
I am not sure how to explain that to the kids while still helping them write a letter and not undermining the general thrust of the lesson.
And I hate that I have been put in this situation by the reflexive attitudes of my religion. We are supposed to be a religion that encompases many viewpoints and honors them all! I want my viewpoint to be honored instead of being made to feel that I am a heartless evil person because I am not automatically horrified by the death of cute wild animals.
(I have a similar issue with people who protest deer hunting, incidentally. Deer may be cute, and Bambi may renew the love of generation after generation of children, but do you know what deer are on the east coast of the USA? They are a goddamn nuisance. They destroy gardens, they kill trees, they are a serious traffic hazard, they carry ticks, they wander around downtowns causing chaos, etc. "Rats with hooves" is a useful description. And their population has exploded because they have no wild predators left in the area, and because people go all melty over their big brown eyes and won't let them be culled in a sensible fashion.
It drives me nuts.)
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth, where there are currently (
comments)