Lekya shifted in his seat. The lights were hot. The chairs were
stiff. He had never really wondered about the intricacies of television
production, and now that he was seeing it first hand it struck him that
there seemed to be far more people working than could possibly have
anything important to do. With this many people Jake McCrae could run three
circuses and a donut shop.
Someone came up to him and re-touched his makeup, then did the same
to his opponent, a friendly-enough young lady named Marcia something. They
had been introduced moments before; she seemed pleasant enough, but Lekya
was well aware that much of the politeness would fade once the cameras
rolled. Even vegetarians became predators once the lens went their way.
They were seated side-by-side in front of a small table, with just
enough space between them to prevent an uncomfortable situation. Opposite
them were, of course, the cameras, five of them. One to get a full view of
everyone at the table, and one each for close-ups on the participants in
the show. Lekya's and Marcia's cameras were directly across from them, of
course; the show's hosts' cameras were angled toward their respective seats
on opposite ends of the table adjacent to Lekya and Marcia.
The show was called "Counterattack". Lekya had seen it before,
several times; it seemed to him to be a political version of those
freak-talk interview shows where the subjects were encouraged to bat at
each other with chairs. "Counterattack" had no actual violence, though some
of its guests could impact your life in ways more negative than you'd have
dreamed imaginable, and its panelists more likely to parade their college
degrees than their bondage gear, but the set-up was the same. An issue was
raised, the sides arbitrarily set (Lekya gathered that he was to be
presented as "on the Right" of this issue, as in "right-wing", though his
politics were pretty much mainstream Democrat), and the guests subtly
encouraged to lose their tempers with one another by the badgering of the
hosts. Very entertaining, and somewhat disturbing.
The hosts weren't out yet; they were still in their dressing rooms.
Lekya's "ally" from the Right was to be Bert MacLear, the stocky
stock-trader turned journalist and corporate apologist. Lekya was
none-too-fond of the snake-eyed fascist he saw on TV, but in person Bert
(who had introduced himself to Lekya backstage, in what they called the
"green room" though the color scheme was largely blue) was affable and
genial, hardly the attack dog he seemed on camera. Bert's co-host and
adversary, Wendell Williams, the slender columnist known for his thick
glasses and narrow ties, had passed Lekya with nary a how-d'ya-do, and
seemed brusque with the backstage crew as well; hardly the "voice of the
working man". But that probably explained why Wendell always looked so
pasty and sweaty on screen - workplace sabotage.
The show's assistant producer came out to tell them that they'd be
going on air in five minutes, not to be nervous and would you like a glass
of water? They both answered affirmatively. It was hot under the lights.
"Ahh, Mister Vetrayna," Bert MacLear said, as he strolled out onto
the soundstage. "Our staff has done right by you, I trust."
"Well enough."
"Glad to hear it. And a good afternoon to you, Ms. Grey."
Marcia nodded politely, though she made little effort to hide her
distaste for the well-dressed and thick-lidded Mister MacLear.
MacLear took his seat, which was adjacent to Ms. Grey (it made for
better television having all the opposing parties seated in between one
another). A moment later Wendell Williams strolled in, nodded to everyone,
and took his seat, which was adjacent to Lekya. Make-up people rushed over
to touch up everyone's faces. Within a few moments the crew and cast were
in position and ready.
"All right everyone, we're on in five... four..." Rather than
counting the last few numbers, the director or producer or whoever (Lekya
could barely tell who was who; it was tough meeting a lot of people at
once, and Lekya had never been able to memorize people according to rank,
contrary to social custom... he was more likely to remember an interesting
shopclerk than a boring mayor) ticked them off with his fingers. When the
final finger fell down, a red light came on above each camera and ominous,
martial music flowed out of the speakers of the monitor screen behind the
cameras.
"Good evening." Bert spoke first. "The circus is a place of joy and
imagination, where generation after generation of children have enjoyed the
antics of clowns, acrobats, and most of all, trained animals. The lions,
the elephants, the horses... all these are a special part of a valued
circus tradition. But some say that trained animals have no place in
entertainment. Our guests tonight are Lekya Vetrayna, an animal trainer
with McCrae's Circus, and Marcia Grey, an activist from the organization
BEAR, the Benevolent Embrace of Animal Rights. From the right, I'm Bert
MacLear."
"Sounded like you were going to choke saying that acronym, there,
Bert."
"Yes."
"And from the left, I'm Wendell Williams. Mister Vetrayna, isn't
there an awful lot of cruelty in the Circus world?"
"Not in McCrae circus! We treat animals like pampered pets!" Lekya
grinned, hopefully likeably.
"Well, now," Marcia answered, "That's part of the problem. These
animals are not pets; they are wild by nature, wild at heart. My
organization asserts that captivity itself is the abuse, and the demeaning
'tricks' they are forced to perform is just the gravy on the dead zebra."
"Well, Miss Grey," Bert said, the attack-dog tone in his voice,
"Are you admitting that your group will be going after the zoos once you've
crippled the circuses?"
"We have issues with zoos as well, yes."
"There you have it!" Bert threw his hands up disgustedly. "I love
the circus, I love the zoo, I love a good burger. You'd like to take all of
those things away."
Marcia grinned. "Yes. For the good of the animals. For your own good."
Wendell Williams turned to Lekya. "Ms. Gray is saying that the
circus life is not comparable to life in the wild; that it is, in fact,
unnatural."
"Lions on savannah don't jump through hoops, normally; nor do
monkeys work in big glass boxes. But human monkeys do! Is no more natural
for them."
Marcia bristled. "Are you saying that leaping through flaming hoops
is a step in lions' evolutionary development?"
"No. 'Course not. Just that you sit here in nice clothes before
lights and cameras.. is not 'natural'."
Bert stepped in. "I think what Mr. Vetrayna is saying is that we
sometimes look at animals through a humanized light, through a filter that
says their lives should be as we idealize them, regardless of what is or is
not better for the animal. Is that right, Mr. Vetrayna?"
"Oh, absolute."
Wendell shook his head. "But there's a world of difference in the
quality of life an animal has in the bustling, noisy, confusing, cramped
circus environment versus, say, a modern zoo, with a habitat display..."
"See! You prove my point! The lion, in wild, he lives about ten,
thirteen years. In zoo, about eight! But circus lions live to twenty, even
thirty... why? 'Cause they enjoy they life!"
Marcia scowled. "Oh, come on, we can't infer..."
"Why not? They're cats! They like stuff happening. Zoo lions get
bored. Die from boredom. Circus life fun for cats!"
Bert smiled. "So you're saying that a circus lion is actually
better off than a lion in the wild!"
"Depends on lion, but, yes."
"Well, well. What do you say to that, Miss Gray?"
"I'd say it but I'd be censored. Circus lions live artificially
prolonged lives because they are profitable for their owners. Would you
like to live your life in a cage, Mister Vetrayna?"
"We all live in cage, Ms. Gray. I don't like it, maybe you do, is
cage nonetheless. To eat, we work; to stay as free as we can we follow
rules of society, else we find selves in smaller cage with real bars."
"Oh, come now, Mr. Vetrayna, it's not like that at all. Any time
you want you can turn your back on society and walk off into the woods a
free man."
"You ever owe money to state? To IRS? Turn back on them. Go 'head."
Bert broke out laughing, and turned to the camera. "Now that we've
brought my personal bogeyman, the IRS, out of the closet, let's break for
commercial. When we come back, what constitutes animal abuse? Back in a
moment."
The monitor screen showed a cheerful family investing their money
wisely with a well-known broker. A herd of makeup and lighting technicians
descended on Lekya and the other three debaters, powdering, brushing,
checking meters. Bert turned toward Lekya slightly, smiling.
"You're doing wonderfully. Keep it up."
"Thank you," Lekya answered. "It's not easy..." he started to say,
but by then Bert was busy talking to his producer. Lekya shrugged and
chatted with the lady who was reapplying his own face makeup, who was
friendly, liked her job some times but not others, had two kids, and did
enjoy the circus, especially the lions. He promised her an autographed
photo for her kids and fortunately he had brought one along.
Too soon it was time to go back on. The technicians scurried, the
red lights blinked on and the director's assistant gave them the cue.
"We're back," Wendell said, with his trademark smug grin. "Animal
rights. How far do they go before they become Animal Wrongs? We're here
with Lekya Vetrayna, lion trainer, and Marcia Gray, animal activist,
attempting to answer that very question. Mister Vetrayna, you don't abuse
animals in your circus..."
"By his definition," Marcia interrupted.
"McCrae Circus animals are healthy happy and unharmed," Lekya
responded.
"Yet surely you must agree," Wendell continued, "That the circus
lifestyle practically invites abuse; the touring, the training, the
pressure..."
"First thing smart animal trainer learns: abused animal is
dangerous animal. Circus animals are always dangerous, but abused animals
become, how do you say, psychotic. In my early days I knew a trainer would
beat the horses. Horses, mind you, not tigers; domestic animals, not wild.
My uncle hated him, would yell at him any time he'd catch him doing it; but
my uncle was humble in the scheme of things in that circus, back in time
and in Europe. Long story short, one day the abusive trainer looked away at
wrong moment, stallion rears; trainer is on ground with hoof marks on
skull. Not pretty."
"Horrible," Marcia said, "But one case of poetic justice hardly
exonerates the circus industry; in fact, I can read between the lines of
your story and see an example of just how pervasive cruelty is."
"Then you miss the point. Times were different then, especially in
Europe after the war, but one thing my uncle taught me was that 'the
rabbits always come home to roost'. He was being funny, expression is
'chickens' not 'rabbits' but is true nonetheless. Your violence will come
back on you. Every successful trainer I have met believes this; most of the
dead ones I have known did not."
Bert picked up this thread. "If what Mister Vetrayna says is true,
then logic dictates that circus animals will be generally well cared for,
or else they'll eat their trainers. I know I would rather get in a cage
with a happy lion than a pissed off one..."
Everyone laughed, then Marcia answered. "Well, you would think
that, wouldn't you, but my organization has documented dozens of instances
of cruelty with hidden cameras."
Wendell nodded to the producer. "And we have some of them lined up.
Can we roll the video?" He looked at the camera. "First, a warning: some of
this is unpleasant to watch."
"Very much so," Marcia agreed.
Lekya looked up at the video screen. The scenes were indeed hard to
watch; an elephant being beaten, a cheetah in a cramped and dirty cage, a
horse with welts on its flanks, an underfed tiger with ribs showing.
"Strong stuff," Wendell said, shaking his head.
"Is criminal!" Lekya said. "And against law. Was this footage shown
to authorities?"
"In some cases, yes," Marcia replied, somewhat hesitantly.
"Only some cases? Why not all?"
"Well, umm," Marcia stammered, "Some of these shots aren't from the
United States..."
"Huh! So you try to affect U.S. laws by complaining of conditions
in other countries! Haha! Is con game! Circus versus carnies!"
"Mister Vetrayna has a good point," Bert nodded solemnly. "Isn't it
a little misleading to imply that this sort of thing happens all the time
here in America when in fact you have no evidence of that?"
Marcia reddened. "Some of the footage is from the U.S..."
"Then use it!" Lekya said. "Put bastards behind bars. American
audiences love circus, love animals, won't stand for abuse! Put abusers in
jail, put circuses that allow out of business! No need for new laws; use
ones already here to keep house clean!"
"I think the trouble is that Ms. Gray doesn't want circuses that
keep animals healthy and content; she doesn't want circuses to keep animals
at all."
"I have said as much," Marcia nodded, regaining her composure.
"Well, how about it, Mister Vetrayna," Wendell said, "By what right
do we keep wild things prisoner and force them to do our will?"
Lekya sighed. "Life. Life is struggle for survival. No one on this
earth is free; all must fight every day to eat, to breathe, to live. All
are prisoners of frail bodies, made of flesh, blood, bone. One sad twitch
of whiskers of Fate... whff! We're gone.
"Lion in wild seems romantic, noble figure, perched on rock above
plain. Is true in some way, big lie in others. Lion steals food from hyena,
makes his women feed him, eats cubs... very politically incorrect! But this
is 'cause he struggles to live from day to day, against drought, against
disease, against other predators, against encroaching civilization. Circle
of life bears down on mister wild lion like wheel of giant steamroller.
Always he must run ahead or be flattened.
"Most of human race live same way. Is struggle always to survive.
Freedom is as free as your next meal. Politics is game for the well-fed.
"To eat, to survive we must surrender freedom. Don't think glass
tower is a cage? Ask the temp guy in accounting! This TV show is cage,
anchors trained monkeys - sorry! - even Circus I work for is cage; is just
nicest cage I could find to lock myself in."
Wendell cleared his throat. "While this 'trained monkey'
appreciates the philosophy lesson, Mister Vetrayna, I don't see..."
"My point is, Circus lions live better lives than most of humanity.
Is maybe not the life they would choose, but same could be said of Calcutta
street beggar."
"But," Marcia interjected, "The life of the beggar is decided by
God, or by Chance, or by Fate. A higher power, call it what you will. By
what right do we abrogate to ourselves the power to choose the path of
another living creature?"
"Well," Bert spoke up, "In the Bible it states that the Lord
granted dominion over the animals to Man, thereby giving Man the moral
authority to decide such issues; and most interpretations agree that God
placed a limit on that dominion, that Man shall not be cruel, he shall not
'muzzle the oxen in the field'."
"But one could counter," Marcia said, "That the bible, if one
accepts it, represents God's laws for what was at the time an agrarian
society, dependent on animals for food and labor, something that modern man
is not. We are talking specifically here about animals used in
entertainment, remember."
"Mister Vetrayna?" Bert said, clearing the floor for Lekya.
Lekya cleared his throat. "One time, back in Romania, I meet
Kalihari Bushman, traveling with Gryalya family, gypsies, you know. I could
not click and pop but his Romanian was good so we enjoyed some conversation
over bottle. I train with my uncle to be lion-tamer at the time, and this
Bushman was very into lions, how they are treated, etcetera. What he tells
me is that Bushmen have old story, old myth, of how first man made pact
with lion. Sort of like story of Androcles, but in this the lion makes deal
that Bushmen and lion watch out for each other; that each will protect
other.
"He says he didn't think much of story, his people have lots of
stories he says. The one day he's hunting with uncle. They wounded small
deer, and it staggered into savanna and collapsed... near hiding lion! My
friend was terrified, but his uncle just walked up to deer, grabbed and
threw over shoulder, with deferential gesture to lion. He said only crazy
lion attacks Bushman; only crazier Bushman attacks lion.
"My point is: I believe that on some level, a mystical level, there
is link between man and lion; there is silent deal. When man breaks deal,
destroying game with city, railroad, lion responds by hating man. Yet
individual lion and individual man can re-negotiate deal on one-to-one
level, and that is what I think happens between lion-tamer and lion."
"So you're saying," Wendell said, "That Man is empowered to decide
the fate of an animal by some sort of mystical pact that mankind has made
with the animals? I think that's a bit much for me."
"Look into lion's eyes. You will see this pact."
"Even if we accept your argument," Marcia said, "Which to my ears
doesn't sound all that different from the Christian's 'God gave man
dominion' argument..."
"But I am atheist!" said Lekya, smiling.
"Yes. Even then, wouldn't you say that imprisonment and
exploitation is an abrogation of the man-lion 'deal'?"
"I tell you again, many do not mind the cage, find it preferable to
'cage' of outdoor freedom. Some enjoy circus life, always interesting, what
you call 'exploitation'. You 'exploit' animal suffering to get money for
organization, pay salary, right?" Lekya grinned again.
"Now, you know that is a specious argument. The goal of a circus is
to stay in business, the goal of an organization such as mine is to put
itself out of business, by making itself obsolescent."
"My comment is no less fair than your own use of fake footage to
garner audience sympathy."
"Ouch!" Bert said. "Let's take another break, and when we come
back: What is life like behind animal bars?"
The director signaled that they were off the air and everybody
relaxed. Bert grinned at Lekya. "Well, you're certainly on top of this
subject! I never expected to get a philosophy lesson as part of a show
about animal rights."
"Is philosophical issue. No right or wrong, really."
"I guess not. Just rights, in shades of wrong."
"Clever," Wendell interjected. "But I don't buy into this 'myth and
magic' stuff. Animals are furry bundles of instincts and appetites. I see
the 'Animal Rights' issue in terms of Human issues. If it is morally wrong
to hurt, to cause pain, even to a dumb creature, and I believe it is, then
we are morally beholden to an animal rights agenda."
Marcia shook her head. "I hate to argue with you, Wendell, since
you're on my side and all, but I think the issue goes deeper than that.
Animals do have thoughts and feelings, and these must be respected - for
the sake of the animals, not for the sake of the humans."
"And I say," Bert interjected, "That I'm with Lekya on this;
humanity and animals should continue to enjoy the same relationship that
they've always had. Eventually, as humanity evolves, we'll move away from
the Animal as Thing to be Used model, into a newer model, though what that
might be I won't hazard a guess. But time will bring about that change, not
human action in the now and here."
"And I say," Marcia stated, "That man is an ape and will remain so
always unless society forces his back upright."
"And you would achieve that by forcing him against the wall," Lekya
said.
"Well, if necessary." Marcia shrugged.
The director cued them and they settled all readied to go back on
the air. Lekya found the hosts' camera-consciousness to be contagious; he
caught himself settling in to a pose, and chuckled to himself.
"We're back!" Bert said as the red light flicked on. "We're
discussing Animal Rights with activist Marcia Gray and animal trainer Lekya
Vetrayna. During the break we had an interesting discussion about the
achievement of Animal Rights. We all agree that there should be some sort
of protection for animals; where we differ is on how much and how to
achieve it. Marcia, we've all seen the stories about the terrorist group
Tiger, Tiger. I gather your own group rejects their actions..."
"Most emphatically!" Marcia said. "Those are sick, crazy people."
"And yet the goals outlined in their broadsides are very similar to
your own. Any comments?"
Marcia intertwined her fingers, indexes to the sky. "To that I
would say that it's always a mistake to judge an idea by the company it
keeps. It's an age-old technique to defame a political opponent, by
branding him as a 'fellow traveler' of an extremist group. The McCarthy
treatment."
"Oh, now, hold on," Bert said, "The left is always ready to say
that rhetoric is to blame for unlawful actions. If someone doubts the value
of affirmative action, he's then held responsible for church burnings and
Klan rallies. I see no reason not to hold the animal rights movement to the
same standards."
Wendell grinned. "Then you admit what I've been saying all along,
that spokesmen for intolerant attitudes create an atmosphere that
encourages extremist reactions."
"I admit no such thing, and you know it. There's a difference
between inciting and critiquing."
"If you say so."
"Is not so much what is said that's important," Lekya said, "It's
what is done. Acts of destruction, violence against property lead only to
escalating violence."
"Oh, come now," Marcia said "There's a world of difference between
some of the civil disobedience my group has undertaken and the criminal
actions Tiger, Tiger has committed."
"Not such a big world."
Wendell stepped in. "Mister Vetrayna, by that logic every civil
disobedience undertaken in the name of justice is the equivalent of
terrorism."
"No, not at all. Riding bus, sitting on steps, these are not
aggressive actions. Tossing blood, breaking open cages, these things only
lead to more and more violence."
"Sometimes it takes a sharp, punchy statement like that to get the
public's attention."
"Terrorist says that if punch gets attention, shotgun to face gets
more attention."
"Well said!" Bert stepped in. "But we're going to have to wrap it
up. Any concluding statements? Marcia?"
"Man has no right to keep wild nature beholden in servitude to him."
"Very succinct. Lekya?"
"Come to McCrae circus, see lions! Happy, well-fed lions!"
Bert chuckled. "We'll be back right after this."