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Challenging the Iconography of Oppression in Marketing: Confronting Speciesism

Through Art and Visual CultureJ. Keri Cronin and Lisa A. Kramer

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Cronin, J. K., & Kramer, L. A. (2018). challenging the iconography of oppression in marketing: confronting speciesism through Art and visual culture. Journal of Animal Ethics, 8(1), 80-92. https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.5406/janimalethics.8.1.0080

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Challenging the Iconography of Oppression in Marketing: Confronting Speciesism Through Art and Visual Culture*

J. Keri CroninBrock University, Ontario, Canada

Lisa A. Kramer University of Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Forthcoming in 2018 at Journal of Animal Ethics 8 (1): 80–92

This Version: December 2017

Abstract: Visual culture has normalized systemic and institutional cruelty toward animals in North America through an iconography of oppression. Certain kinds of images that sanitize and celebrate the consumption of animal bodies through our contemporary food systems are constantly repeated through marketing channels. In doing so, they help us to avoid addressing the very ethical questions at the heart of these practices. In contrast to this, a number of contemporary artists have relied on visual culture to disrupt this pattern of representation and to challenge the status quo. The following discussion explores some recent attempts to reimagine human-animal relationships in nonspeciesist terms through imagery and artistic practice.

Key words: visual culture, art, photography, speciesism, advertising, advertisements, marketing, activism, advocacy, animals, social justice

______________________ * We are grateful to participants of the University of Toronto Mississauga’s Gastronomy, Culture, and the ArtsConference for helpful comments. The authors can be reached by email at Keri.Cronin@brocku.ca andLkramer@rotman.utoronto.ca.

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The consumption of animals as food has become such a normalized part of contemporary life that few people stop to question it.1 When someone orders a hamburger or a pulled pork sandwich at a restaurant, they are most likely aware that they are not ordering from the vegan menu—on some level it registers that there once was a living, breathing animal who was killed for this dish—but the systems of cultural representation that support our contemporary food systems have created a comfortable distance between that animal and the sandwich that appears on the plate. The following discussion argues, perhaps somewhat paradoxically, that visual imagery has been instrumental in creating a culture of invisibility around the widespread violence toward animals inherent in our modern food production systems. In doing so, we draw upon a critical framework set forth by scholars such as Joan Dunayer (2001) and Carol J. Adams (1990), who argue that systems of linguistic representation can have violent repercussions for animals. In transferring this theoretical model to the realm of the visual, we also consider examples of contemporary artworks that use visuality to challenge this iconography of oppression. LANGUAGE In Animal Equality, Joan Dunayer (2001) argues that language is used to create a sense of distance between the animals who are raised for food production and the meat that ends up on the dinner table. Through language, animals become depersonalized. For instance, animal-related nouns such as “bitch,” “cow,” “monkey,” and “jackass” are used in some contexts to insult humans. Several nouns used in reference to animals take away their individuality directly; for instance, it is common to employ singular terms like “poultry” or “chicken” in lieu of the plural “chickens” they came from. The common use of the pronoun “it” in place of “him” or “her” renders male or female animals genderless and inanimate. Euphemisms such as “ground beef” and “pork chops” stand in for “ground cow” and “pig ribs.” And the word “meat” serves as a replacement for more descriptive but less palatable words like “flesh,” “muscle,” or “corpse.” As Cathy Glenn (2004) notes, “the use of these euphemisms disguises the fact that the body parts we purchase and consume are the objectified remains of former subjects” (p. 69). Language, in other words, supports a structural system in which there is a deliberate separation between the physical, material body of an animal and the food he or she will become. In Dunayer’s (2001) model, word choices transfer the focus from the individual to the collective (e.g., not the individual pig, but, rather, an abstract notion of many pigs that become the pork for sale in the supermarket). There is, in other words, a sense of distancing that is achieved through the use of select language. Likewise, in her now canonical text, The Sexual Politics of Meat, Carol J. Adams (1990) points out that after an animal is killed for meat, “fragmented body parts are often renamed to obscure the fact that these were once animals” (pp. 58–59). Through these kinds of distancing tactics, Adams (1990) concludes, “the dead animal is the point beyond the culturally presumed referent of meat” (p. 59). Consumers are distanced from the animals who lived and died for their meals through both physical and

1 While humans are a type of animal, for clarity we use the word animal in reference to nonhuman animals exclusively.

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conceptual means. Further, as Adams (1990) reminds us, the processes of “cooking, seasoning, and covering the animals with sauces” goes even one step further toward “disguising their original nature” (pp. 58–59). VISUAL IMAGERY In our work, we are interested in exploring how this dynamic of distancing is both maintained and challenged in terms of visual culture. Specifically, we are interested in how different kinds of imagery relate to what Timothy Pachirat (2011) has termed the “politics of sight,” the careful control of industrial animal agriculture that regulates who has visual access to each stage of the production process. In contemporary contexts, the visual representation of animals who are part of the system of food production tends to be informed by a sense of cultural invisibility. Here carefully constructed systems ensure that most people see only the select messages produced and approved by food industry executives. As Liz Grauerholz (2007) notes, this sets up a system of disassociation in which “consumers not only bear no responsibility for killing animals for food, there is little to remind them that their food or drink is linked to an animal source” (p. 348). It is our contention that dominant representations of specific kinds of animals is directly linked to the way that their flesh-and-blood relations are treated. Images and systems of representation have real-life consequences for living, breathing, flesh-and- blood animals—as Nigel Rothfels (2002) argues, “the stakes in representing animals can be very high” (p. xi). Visual culture normalizes the ways in which animals are treated in a given context to the point that we rarely stop to question what it is we are seeing. As John Grady and Jay Mechling (2003) have noted, “animals are nearly invisible to us precisely because they are so visible” (p. 92). In other words, when it comes to the treatment of animals, what is permitted to be seen and by whom are important considerations. Further, as Trinh T. Minh-ha (2016) argues:

Invisibility is built into each instance of visibility, and the very forms of invisibility generated within the visible are often what is at stake in a struggle. The two are inseparable, for each is the condition for the advent of the other. (p. 132)

It is this tension between visibility and invisibility and contemporary artistic responses to it that is the focus of the following discussion. If animals are pictured at all within the framework of contemporary food systems, we typically see them in idealized form. One common depiction is in impossibly tidy and idyllic farm settings. An example appears in Figure 1. Here we see a carefully constructed portrayal of a healthy group of specialty-breed chickens, roaming freely in a grassy field. This happy image appeared in the “Animal Welfare” section of the website of a chicken production firm, Maple Lodge Farms, until an animal welfare group, Animals Justice Canada, filed a false-advertising complaint with federal regulators, complaining that the image did not represent the true conditions under which chickens were raised by the company. (Earlier that year, another animal advocacy non-profit, Mercy For Animals, recorded undercover video footage of

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caged chickens at Maple Lodge Farms facilities that a Maple Lodge Farms representative described as “disturbing.” The footage showed the birds being transported in freezing temperatures, with some birds arriving at the slaughterhouse frozen solid, and being roughly handled during preparation for slaughter, resulting in broken wings and legs.) As Cathy Glenn (2004) argues, “when it comes to advertising, positive images of animals’ health and welfare become just as saleable as the products rendered from the animals” (p. 71).

Figure 1: Image From Web Site of Chicken Producer

Another common representation employed by commercial entities is the cartoon caricature of animals, several examples of which appear in Figure 2. These images portray animals in completely unrealistic scenarios, for instance a pig as the chef who will prepare the barbecued pork or the sausages (in one case made of himself), a cow as the butcher who will slice the cuts of meat, or cows encouraging people to eat animals of a species other than their own. In each of these types of depictions—on an idyllic farm or as a cartoon—these visual tropes do little to call attention to the actual conditions endured by animals who live and die within these systems. These are deliberate and controlled visual messages, and any imagery of “food animals” that runs counter to this sanitized iconography of animals tends to be met with resistance (both from consumers and industry). In recent years, a number of visual artists have used imagery to create a direct counterpoint to these dominant depictions of animals in our contemporary society. These artworks stand as direct challenges to the dominant visual representations so many people encounter on a daily basis and, as such, attempt to disrupt the status quo and call attention to the prevalent patterns of representation that have normalized certain kinds of understandings of animals. In a similar way that Dunayer (2001)

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and Adams (1990) have pointed out that language goes a long way toward normalizing speciesist attitudes, we want to emphasize that the repetition of certain kinds of images creates an iconography of oppression when it comes to the treatment of animals in our contemporary society. Artistic interventions have the potential to interrupt this system.

Figure 2: Cartoon Depictions of Animals Intended as Food

In contrast to the dominant systems of visual culture that serve to normalize animal exploitation, in recent years a number of artists have used interventions that attempted to challenge this dynamic. Elizabeth Cherry (2016) has argued that visual art has the potential to “reveal the hidden workings of the animal agriculture industry” (p. 71). While this observation is undoubtedly true, it represents only one way that visual culture can challenge the status quo when it comes to the treatment of animals in our contemporary world. Artists like Banksy and Rocky Lewycky have convincingly demonstrated that art can also foster imaginative spaces that allow the viewer to not only reflect on the systemic cruelty each artist evokes but also on alternative ways of conceiving of our relationships with animals. Banksy’s Sirens of the Lambs, shown in Figure 3, made its first appearance in New York City in October 2013. In this piece, the enigmatic street artist turned a reclaimed slaughter truck into a contemporary art installation. Banksy’s truck is full of stuffed toy animals—plush cows, chickens, pigs, and lambs. It first appeared in the Meatpacking neighborhood of New York City and then toured around the city for 2 more weeks. The animals on the truck can be heard squealing, squeaking, and crying, creating a disturbing soundtrack that serves to draw attention to the piece. The material quality of the

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truck is significant in this piece—the words “Farm Fresh Meats” stenciled on the door of the truck reminds viewers that at one time this vehicle was full of flesh-and-blood animals. This truck was once used to drive terrified animals to slaughter and the juxtaposition of this harsh reality with the clean and cuddly looking plush animals commands attention in a way that a truck full of live animals would not. Animals on trucks heading to slaughter are accepted as part of modern life; many people drive right by them without even taking a second look.

Figure 3: Banksy, Sirens of the Lambs. Photo credit: WENN Ltd / Alamy Stock Photo, used with permission.

Rocky Lewycky’s installation entitled Is It Necessary?, shown in Figure 4, challenged viewers not only to reflect on the violence of large-scale industrial farming practices but also to directly participate in the effort to create a better world for animals. This installation was on exhibit at the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History in 2014, and it was comprised of hundreds of ceramic sculptures of animals. These pigs, cows, turkeys, and fishes were grouped according to species and meticulously lined up in neat, tidy rows that serve as an important visual reminder of the many ways in which humans have insisted on classifying and categorizing other animals as a way of attempting to control and dominate every aspect of their lives. This sense of order was abruptly disrupted each day during the installation when Lewycky entered the gallery and selected one ceramic animal to smash. Each of the sculpted pieces were white on the exterior and blood red on the interior, so the smashed, jagged shards of the broken animal bodies sharply contrasted with the bodies of the animals who had not yet met the same fate. This juxtaposition of color and form introduced a disquieting presence to the installation—the ever-present threat of violence was made visible. Viewers were invited to “save” the animals by making a donation to the Humane Farming Association, a nonprofit group that campaigns against factory farming. For every donation of $50 or more made during the installation of Is It Necessary?, one ceramic animal was spared. In this piece, the “liberation” of the sculpted animals was linked directly to advocacy efforts to improve the lives of real-life animals.

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Figure 4: Detail of Rocky Lewycky's installation entitled Is It Necessary? Photo credit: Rocky Lewycky, used with permission.

In both of these examples, the artist has created a sense of distance between their representation of animals and the real-world referents that these plush toys and ceramic figurines are based upon. This is important because for many viewers these installations offer a safe space through which to engage with the topics explored in the pieces. If Banksy’s truck had been filled with live animals in distress or if Lewycky had been slaughtering an actual animal, few would seek out the spectacle as it unfolded. Many would turn away and refuse to look. Here, however, the substitution of fabric and ceramic bodies allows viewers to look at and engage with these pieces without directly encountering the trauma of violent death. And yet, in each case, there is an important connection back to the very real conditions faced by the animals who live and die within our contemporary food systems. Banksy’s decision to use an old truck retired from the meat industry and Lewycky’s choice to donate to the Humane Farming Association serve as important and poignant reminders that these artworks are not as removed from the day-to-day horrors faced by farmed animals as they first appear. Even though actual animal bodies are not represented in these pieces, the sense of cultural invisibility that accompanies the dominant systems of food production is potentially disrupted. In other words, if the viewer conjures up an image of the cruelty that the flesh-and-blood relatives of these stuffed and sculpted animals experience on a daily basis, they may logically extend that image to consider alternative scenarios in which animals are not placed in these situations. And yet, at the same time, this disruption is entirely dependent upon the imaginative qualities of each piece. In both cases, the meanings are not entirely contained—viewers can and do bring their own interpretations to the works. The success of these works rests in the interplay between these two realms.

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“WE ANIMALS” AND “ENTANGLED EMPATHY” It is, perhaps, photographic images that have the most potential to both reinforce and challenge the status quo when it comes to the treatment of animals in our contemporary society. Of particular interest to us is the work of Toronto-based photojournalist, Jo-Anne McArthur. McArthur travels the world documenting human relationships with nonhuman animals and is the founder of the We Animals project, a photographic archive focusing on the experiences of nonhuman animals at such places as factory farms, zoos, slaughterhouses, laboratories, and sanctuaries. At first glance, this work may appear to be vastly different from the previous examples. In the work of Banksy and Lewycky, imaginative qualities are at the forefront. We know better than to take these as factual, true-to-life encounters. Instead, they are cultural interventions that use creative and innovative elements in order to engage with viewers, to ask them to stop and think about the systemic use and abuse of animals in our contemporary food systems. McArthur’s work, on the other hand, is photographic and, as such, is accompanied by a long history of cultural assumptions that sees this type of image as more “real.” The indexical nature of the photograph accompanied by the mechanical nature of the camera has long shaped the assumptions and meanings we bring to this type of visual culture. In his now-classic essay entitled “On the Invention of Photographic Meaning,” Allan Sekula (1982) reminds us that “the meaning of a photograph, like that of any other entity, is inevitably subject to cultural definition” (p. 84). Indeed, McArthur’s photographs are not simply meant to show “the truth” in a simplistic manner. Rather, she intends them to help the viewer form a connection with what is being depicted in the photograph, a connection that is rarely facilitated in everyday life due to the linguistic and cultural barriers that separate people from the animals that become their food. One of the ways in which this kind of imagery can work is as a vehicle for what Lori Gruen (2015) has termed “entangled empathy”. Gruen (2015) defines entangled empathy as

… a type of caring perception focused on attending to another’s experience of wellbeing. An experiential process involving a blend of emotion and cognition in which we recognize we are in relationships with others and are called upon to be responsive and responsible in these relationships by attending to another’s needs, interests, desires, vulnerabilities, hopes, and sensitivities. (p. 3)

For Gruen, consideration of animal ethics must be contextually specific. In other words, she presents an alternative to theoretical frameworks of animal ethics that flatten specific relationships with and experiences of individual beings, be they human or nonhuman. What does it mean to empathize with a representation of an animal? This seems, at first, to veer away from Gruen’s (2015) entire point that we need to consider, as much as possible, the specific

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situation and experiences of the individuals we empathize with. How can this play out when we are dealing not with actual flesh-and-blood animals but, instead, with cultural representations of them?

Figure 5: Jo-Anne McArthur, The Slaughter of Rabbits. Photo credit: Jo-Anne McArthur / WeAnimals, used with permission.

Let us take McArthur’s 2010 image entitled The Slaughter of Rabbits (Figure 5) as an example here. This is, admittedly, a very difficult image to look at. McArthur’s low camera angle has set up this image from a “rabbit’s eye” point of view. The photographer and, by extension, the viewer is making direct eye contact with a rabbit in a green plastic crate. In the background we can see the freshly killed bodies of other rabbits—this individual animal’s friends and family—hung upside down by one foot. The background of the image also includes a human, a person dressed in a blue uniform standing with his or her back to us. This worker’s job is to kill the rabbits one by one and to hang their bodies on the line so that they bleed out. If we engage in a reading of this image that considers entangled empathy, we will also need to acknowledge that this is not a humane job and that it is very likely this worker suffers as a result of this work.2 In this image, unlike the Banksy and Lewycky pieces discussed above, the safe and comfortable distance between the viewer and the animal represented is considerably reduced.

2 For more on the importance of humane jobs, jobs that “benefit both people and animals,” see Coulter, 2016. On the necessity of taking an intersectional approach when it comes to entangled empathy, see the afterword to Entangled Empathy written by pattrice jones.

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The composition of McArthur’s images tends to focus our attention on the individual animal—in this case, the rabbit who is next in line to be killed. Gruen (2015) calls on us to be as specific as possible in our empathic engagements, to attend to the individual with whom we are empathizing. How do we do this in a case like this? This specific rabbit lived and died in a location far removed from our day-to-day experiences. This animal was alive when the photograph was taken but is now, in all likelihood, dead. Does this prevent entangled empathy with this animal? Gruen (2015) stresses that “what we need to do when we are trying to empathize with very different others is to understand as best we can what the world seems, feels, smells, and looks like from their situated position” (p. 66). If we were not present in the situation, we need to do our best to consider both the specific context as well as the biological and social qualities that may have shaped the experience of the animal we are empathizing with. This admittedly requires some conjecture, but even if we were present with McArthur in the slaughterhouse when this photograph was taken, we still would have to make an educated guess about what this rabbit was experiencing in this situation. In other words, it isn’t necessarily our proximity to another that allows us to empathize with him or her. While neither of us knew the rabbit in McArthur’s (2010) photograph on an individual level, we both have shared our homes with rabbits before and, as such, are familiar with some of the general habits, behaviors, and characteristics of these animals. We recognize, for example, that this animal’s body language demonstrates distress and fear—the wide eyes and the flattened ears are important clues here. Had we not had the opportunity to live closely with rabbits we could draw upon studies of rabbits to learn more about them. For example, in their book Stories Rabbits Tell, Susan E. Davis and Margo De- Mello (2003) point out that the shape and placement of a rabbit’s eyes allows them to have “close to 360-degree vision, which, combined with the fact that their long-distance vision is very acute, means that they can see predators coming from afar” (p. 14). Knowing this information helps us to understand that the animal in McArthur’s photograph can clearly see the danger lurking but is unable to escape from his or her predator. In the wild, a rabbit might have a chance of escaping given that he or she could travel “as fast as forty kilometers per hour” while moving in a “zigzag pattern” that helps evade capture by confusing a predator (Davis & DeMello, 2003, p. 17). These natural instincts are suppressed in the situation that McArthur presents to us through this photograph. How frightening and frustrating that must have been for this rabbit! As Gruen (2015) points out,

Entangled empathy can occur with those who are more distant. We are in relationships of all kinds with many, many animals and we may never have the opportunity to meet them or look into their eyes. But once we are attuned to some of them . . . we can begin to understand our relationships with and responsibilities to many others differently.” (p. 79)

Even though we are physically removed from the rabbit in McArthur’s photograph, this image can unlock the potential for entangled empathy. Viewing an image like this—really taking the time to look and see the photograph instead of turning away—can also result in imagining alternative scenarios,

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perhaps, in this case, a world where rabbits are not slaughtered in this manner, a world in which they are free to exercise their agency and instincts and enjoy a life free from harm inflicted by humans. A significant part of McArthur’s body of work allows us to further visualize these alternate scenarios. Many of McArthur’s photographs focus on rescued animals and animals happily living out their lives in sanctuaries. For example, in her photograph entitled Sarah and Piggy at Farm Sanctuary, NY, USA (Figure 6), we are presented with a touching scene of a human and a pig enjoying a tender moment in a straw-filled barn. As was the case with the previous example, the focus is on the individuals (once again, one human animal and one nonhuman animal) and, once again, McArthur asks the viewer to think about what it would be like to be the animals represented in the picture. This time, however, the empathic connection centers on a different set of emotions, these ones with positive valence. This is a tender scene, one in which both human and nonhuman animals appear to be relaxed and content. Sarah is demonstrating her knowledge of pig preferences by gently approaching her porcine pal from the side (approaching a sleeping pig head-on can be interpreted as a sign of aggression). The title of the image gives us further context—this image was taken at Farm Sanctuary, an organization that rescues and provides “forever homes” to farmed animals. We are assured, therefore, that this pig is safe and, as we look at this image, are encouraged to imagine how the absence of fear and suffering might feel. Images like this provide an important point of reference that goes a long way toward seeing nonhuman animals as complete, complex, and sentient beings. This gets at the heart of what scholars like Lauren Corman (2016) have argued—namely that it is important to see nonhuman animals as more than just suffering victims.

Figure 6: Jo-Anne McArthur, Sarah and Piggy at Farm Sanctuary, NY, USA, used with permission.

To look at these photographs with Gruen’s (2015) framework of entangled empathy in mind does require the viewer to engage somewhat imaginatively with the image and the animal(s) represented

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within in it. In addition to the physical and temporal distances that exist between the viewer and those represented in the picture, there is a need to think through what a nonhuman animal might be feeling using a decidedly human point of reference. Those who engage in this practice are often criticized for their anthropocentric point of view—although, as Marc Bekoff (2007) points out, this criticism tends to be used selectively, in situations that he describes as “anthropomorphic double talk,” where criticisms of anthropomorphism are thrown up as a “smoke screen to discredit” those who are concerned for the well-being of animals (p. 126). Gruen (2015) argues that there are two different kinds of anthropocentrism—inevitable anthropocentrism (“we are humans and our perceptions are necessarily human”) and arrogant anthropocentrism (“a type of human chauvinism that not only locates humans at the centre of everything, but elevates the human perspective above all others”; p. 24). In other words, relying on our own experiences and frames of reference to make educated guesses about what others (both the human and nonhuman animal) might be feeling is not necessarily a bad thing. Indeed, this is the only framework from which we can achieve a sense of empathy. Within this framework, however, Gruen (2015) cautions us not to look so hard for similarities that we accidently or inadvertently gloss over important characteristics that make other beings different from us (p. 36). McArthur’s photographs not only make visible things that tend to be culturally invisible when it comes to the animals who are raised within our contemporary food systems, but they also provide an important point from which to exercise Gruen’s (2015) notion of entangled empathy. This, we contend, is an important step toward reimagining new of ways of coexisting with the animals with whom we share the planet. In an era in which we need to consider how our relationships with other species are directly related to ever- increasing threats to the ecological health of our world, this is not merely a theoretical exercise. CONCLUSION The billions of animals who live and die within our contemporary food system are largely invisible to most people. Not only are factory farms, concentrated animal feeding operations, and slaughterhouses deliberately designed to be out of the range of sight of most people, but carefully planned representational strategies ensure that consumers give little thought to the animals whose body parts end up on the shelves of the supermarket. Marketing strategies rely on sanitized and industry-approved images of cows, pigs, chickens, and other animals raised for food in order to reinforce this system. As Dunayer (2001) and Adams (1990) have noted, carefully considered choice of terminology further distances the consumer from the specific animal being consumed. Likewise, as we have pointed out, the visual culture associated with animal agriculture purposely creates a sense of distance between the actual flesh-and-blood animals so integral to these systems and the consumers who purchase meat, dairy products, and eggs. Both language and image work together to support this status quo. In contrast, the artworks discussed in this article en- courage viewers to consider the experiences of individual animals that live and die within our contemporary food systems and, in this way, challenge the dominant representations of “farmed” animals. In the work of artists like Banksy,

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Lewicky, and McArthur, there is a distance between the viewer and the animals represented that, paradoxically, can actually permit a deeper sense of engagement with the situation being represented. These kinds of images can challenge the status quo when it comes to contemporary food production systems and, as such, have the potential to help dismantle the speciesist systems that perpetuate a continual cycle of violence toward nonhuman animals.

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