For the past year I've been studying the ways in which Asian palm civets (a poorly understood cat-like animal from Southeast Asia) interacts with humans. Unsurprisingly, my PhD research into the trade of civet species was abruptly interrupted by the emergence of the covid-19 pandemic in March of last year. Where I was once planning on traveling to far flung corners of the globe to immerse myself in different cultures to study civet-human interactions in person, I now spend my days silently creeping into the virtual realms of the human-animal interface instead.
With my travel plans on holds, I turned to the internet in order to start my investigations. Why? Because regardless of where you are in the world, chances are you are sharing your life, your experiences, and your sense of self, with the wider world through social media.
Social media has become integrated into our daily lives in a phenomenal way.
Platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Facetime have allowed people to communicate with wide audiences across the globe, to interact with people otherwise unknown and to form communities in virtual spaces. Observing trends in social media content affords researchers a unique window into the lives of platform users. It is the lives of the animals who appear in these spaces which are the focus of my research.
I have spent almost the entirety of the UK lockdown documenting how civets are represented in online spaces by viewing content posted to TripAdvisor, Instagram, Facebook, TikTok and YouTube. Within these virtual walls I have witnessed civets housed for a variety of human uses. Civets are used for the production of kopi luwak, the worlds most expensive coffee made from coffee beans that have passed through the civets digestive tract; for kopi luwak tourism where tourists pay to see how kopi luwak comes to be; and as pets, as civets are captive bred for companionship and social status.
Although only one aspect of my project, I have discovered of late that my online research involves becoming intimately acquainted with animal suffering. Time and time again I bare witness to the lives of animals existing in conditions that inflict psychological and physical harm upon them. I have seen morbidly obese civets that are unable to physically move, civets drugged so that tourists can safely pose for photos with them, civets caged in wire mesh boxes as they pace back and forth having gone out of their minds, and civets so distressed they've gnawed off parts of their own bodies. Stereotypic behaviour, repetitive behaviour without apparent function or goal (Mason and Latham 2004), is prevalent amidst captive civets, particularly those removed from the wild. Not only does stereotypic pacing and self mutilation occur from the captive conditions themselves, I have also seen severe stereotypic behaviour immediately induced by bathing, whereby civets are shampooed, scrubbed, washed and blow dried in order to keep them "beautiful" for pageant like competitions. Whilst my research is ongoing, it is already clear that civet suffering is common within human-civet interactions, regardless of the specific utility they are serving. Be it as a companion, a show animal, a coffee worker or tourist entertainer, civets are not faring well in the hands of humans.
I imagine that if I were to witness this sort of suffering in person, I would find it very distressing, maybe more so as it would be accompanied by smells and sounds, it would encompass all of my senses. Yet I would unlikely be encountering the sheer quantity of abuse that I encounter in online spaces. Many videos and photos posted online are taken in out of the reach places such as private businesses and homes, sites of human-animal encounter which would not be readily accessible to me if I were to visit in person. Does this make the witnessing of animal suffering more or less tolerable? I don't know. What I do know, is that after several hours of witnessing human-animal interactions online, I feel exhausted. My mood drops, I experience a mixture of emotions from frustration that I can't help, to anger and disbelief, which ultimately gives way to an overwhelming feeling of sadness and helplessness. These symptoms are strikingly similar to those listed for psychological trauma (HelpGuide 2020), which I list below. I also highlight those which I have regularly encountered myself due to witnessing animal suffering in online spaces:
shock, denial, or disbelief
Confusion, difficulty concentrating.
Anger, irritability, mood swings.
Anxiety and fear.
Guilt, shame, self-blame.
Withdrawing from others.
Feeling sad or hopeless.
Feeling disconnected or numb
On many occasions I have needed to put down the data, to step away and take a break for a few days. But what do you do in lockdown? I can go for a walk sure, but my support networks, my family, friends and colleagues are miles away and when all there is is time to think, it is easy to become engrossed in melancholy as my thoughts, my day dreams and my sleep are overburdened by what I have seen.
Is it abnormal to become so impacted by the plight of animals?
Is it abnormal to be so impacted by the plight of those I have never met? Will my emotional distress be brushed aside by speciesism, for those I care for are not my own animals, nor even my own species? Should I not be concerned instead for the humans suffering in the world? Has lockdown exacerbated my emotional vulnerability? Would this be easier to cope with were we living in a normal world, where I could go about my day in the presence of others rather than working, living and breathing from the confinement of my home at a social distance from my usual support networks?
One particular instance of animal suffering I witnessed caused me to doubt my ability to cope with my PhD research entirely. Whilst following a thread on Instagram, I ended up watching a video posted to YouTube, of a civet who I recognised from other video content. She was a breeding female for the civet pet trade. In past videos I had seen her being mated by various males, who are placed in a small cage with her (about the size of a dog crate designed for Jack Russel size breeds), where it was impossible for her to escape or evade male advances. In this particular video, she was dragging her back legs behind her, presumably she had suffered paralysis of her hind legs from excessive breeding. The way she was staring in the direction of the camera was particularly impactful, as if she were pleading for help from the one filming her. Indeed, the locking of eyes has been well reported in literature on animal encounter, and in witnessing in particular, to invoke a deep emotional response due to the intimacy of eye contact (Gillespie 2016). I don't know whether it was the look in her eyes, or the feeling as if I "knew" her because I had seen footage of her before that impacted me so much. Perhaps her suffering was too great for me to bare, or maybe it was simply the metaphorical straw which broke my back. I felt grief stricken.
In the midst of lockdown I turned to the only thing available for guidance. I turned to a group on Facebook for those interested or active in the field of Animal Studies, where I asked the questions:
"is this normal to feel this way?" and "what do you do?"
I spent the next two days reflecting on these questions, as many different answers populated my post. I was not alone, as I expected. What was surprising though, was the number of responses from people describing their own experiences in detail. The inference, to me, was that people who regularly witness animal suffering (researchers and those working in animal industries such as veterinary care and conservation) are seeking an opportunity to tell the story for themselves and for the animals. This was an important realization for me for two reasons. Firstly:
The telling of witness accounts serves as a way of justifying our own pain.
If we can share the plight of these animals with the wider world then maybe our efforts will be for a reason, maybe we can help to change the fate of similar animals in the future. Maybe these animals haven't suffered completely for nothing. Second:
Those of us who do witness animal suffering are in desperate need of support.
My post served as an outlet for people to come together and share their stories, to feel they are not alone. I certainly felt a sense of community over the course of two or three days when my post was most active, which really helped me realise that these overwhelming emotions were an acceptable response, and that it was ok to reflect on them. Yet as far as any of us knew, there was no form of Compassion Support offered for any of our respective professions.
We didn't even know what to call it. Some suggested it was known as "Compassion Fatigue" but this is a condition whereby over exposure to suffering causes a muted effect, of indifference to the witnessing of suffering. Although this is one likely outcome for those of us who repeatedly witness animal abuse, I think the entire process is more nuanced than that, for it is ongoing all the while we are engaged in practices which involve viewing animal suffering. I prefer to call this ongoing process the Emotional Burden of Compassion (EBC) as it encompasses the political and ethical act of witnessing and the resulting trauma experienced by empathising with those across the species boundary.
By recognising this phenomenon as an ongoing process, one which is interwoven into my practice, I can now begin to recognize the impact of my research on my own psychological well being. I can pin point the symptoms before it impacts my physical health by way of disturbed sleep, loss of appetite and concentration. I can recognise the development of symptoms associated with trauma, and I can put into place preventative strategies that allow me to continue my work whilst looking after my own health and wellbeing.
I now schedule in only 2 hours of data collection on 2 days of the week. By scheduling these activities I can psychologically prepare myself leading up to them. I take regular breaks and in these breaks I go outside for fresh air. I limit the amount of time I spend on this aspect of my research because I am able to do so, but this is not possible for those working in the field such as rescue and shelter workers. This is something that employing organizations of animal professionals and researchers need to address. Ultimately, the people in these professions are already empathetic towards animals and this empathy can be a significant burden on health and well being when one is regularly exposed to distressing scenarios.
I ensure I sandwich my data collection between activities which I view positively like working on other aspects of my PhD that don't involve witnessing animal suffering. I no longer schedule "in-person" (zoom) interviews with my human research participants on these days as I am often distracted. I accept my mood will alter so I also don't seek to see friends directly after data collection, instead I go for a run or take a long bath. I allow myself to reflect on my emotions but not to dwell there. When I do feel my mood is stabilized (which is getting faster post-data collection, since I recognized the impact of EBC on my personal life) I then call a friend. If I choose to share the animals story then I am open and honest about how witnessing their experience has impacted me. And in being open about my experience I don't need to feel guilty for making the suffering of the animal my own, for that is not what I am doing. I can process my emotional burden whilst keeping animal advocacy as the focal priority.
Most importantly I have accepted that whilst EBC is part of my working life, I am not alone. The next step will be for the institutions who employ people like me, to better support the work that we do by recognising the toll witnessing can take on us and our work.
If you've experienced emotional burden of compassion and would like to share your experiences or coping strategies please feel free to post a comment or share this post with those you feel it might be of help to.
You can read more on my PhD work on my website: www.thecivetproject.com
References:
Gillespie, K., 2016. Witnessing animal others: Bearing witness, grief, and the political function of emotion. Hypatia, 31(3), pp.572-588. Help Guide, 2020. Emotional and Psychological Trauma. Help Guide [online]. Available from: https://www.helpguide.org/articles/ptsd-trauma/coping-with-emotional-and-psychological-trauma.htm Date Accessed: 19.02.2021.
Hine, C., 2008. Virtual ethnography: Modes, varieties, affordances. The SAGE handbook of online research methods, pp.257-270.
Mason, G.J. and Latham, N., 2004. Can’t stop, won’t stop: is stereotypy a reliable animal welfare indicator?.
Cover artwork by Moonassi