Gracia Fay Ellwood, Editor,
The Peaceable
Table
September 2017
We must show compassion for ourselves: we must not minimize our own suffering nor let others minimize it, even though we know it is less than the hell the animals endure. Nor should we beat ourselves up when we make a mistake.
Part I of this essay (On Wounding and Healing Among Activists, Part I)
sketched the experiences of two Peace activists, “Sara” and “Faith,” each of
whom underwent serious psychological trauma, Sara apparently at first hand
during time spent in prison for doing civil disobedience, and Faith at
second hand as she witnessed, in her childhood, the frequent verbal
battering of her mother by her angry, and anxious, father. Both women serve
to illustrate the soul-damage that activists can sustain in the course of
their work, which needs healing if they are to live in accordance with their
values.
Secondary Traumatic Stress Disorder (STSD)
Some animal activists are at particular risk of STSD: one thinks of
undercover workers in factory farms and slaughterhells, those who rescue
animals from hoarding situations, puppy mills, natural disasters, and other
sickening scenes, those who suffer police or media abuse in connection with
civil disobedience, those who disrupt organized hunts, pigeon shoots, and
the like, sometimes being physically attacked; those who do open rescues
from factory farms; those who follow death trucks to the slaughterhells,
offering food and water during stops to animals they can reach through the
openings (but cannot save); those who attend auctions to rescue still-living
animals from dead piles, and the like.
The terrible pain of witnessing such suffering may diminish afterwards, but
it seldom goes away by itself. Support from others and self-care are crucial
to the healing necessary to prevent the sufferer from causing even more harm
to her/himself and others. There are well-known elements of self-care:
meditation or contemplative prayer; spending time in scenes of natural
beauty; exercise, such as dancing, gardening, jogging--whatever one enjoys.
The person who is hurting needs sympathetic listeners, so that s/he knows
she is not alone. For the severely traumatized, such elements are even more
crucial, especially the support from companions, and often therapy too. In
her book Aftershock, pattrice jones notes that when a severely stressed
activist looks for support from a companion or relative and is rebuffed,
e.g., told that things aren’t that bad, and to “just get over it”--perhaps
because the story upsets the other’s cherished assumptions--the situation
can become even more hurtful. Occasionally activists have even been raped or
otherwise attacked by a fellow activist, which feels the ultimate betrayal.
Or, after being abused by the police, activists may be described in the
media as terrorists. “People cannot mourn their losses when others deny that
those losses took place.” (p. 104) Aftershock offers much helpful
information about finding the necessary means to heal from such anguish.
Knowledge about STSD can also help others of us in the community to respond,
strongly and gently, to unhealed sufferers who, though committed to
nonviolence like Sara, cannot see the harm they may be doing to fellow
activists, friends, or family. Infighting in our large community is not a
secret; there is much suffering and unhappiness, many complaints. Somebody
is taking a totally wrong approach; some group is getting most of the
donations; somebody isn’t doing her/his job, and the speaker is left doing
most of the work; somebody is selling out the whole cause by his/her verbal
violence. There may be much truth to the accusations, and there may also be
unhealed trauma in the accusers. We must listen compassionately to both, and
show that we care.
Others of us may be less exposed to the worst horrors, and our pain may not
reach the pitch of intensity that may cause a traumatized person to inflict
verbal or physical violence against self or others; but we are nonetheless
likely to be hurting seriously enough to make self-care important. There are
everyday sources of pain aplenty: the slowness of the change we seek,
including reverses of hard-earned gains; still-beloved relatives who won’t
listen to the call to compassion, and eat flesh in front of us in
restaurants or at home; newspaper advertisements picturing slabs of dead
bodies, amid rapturous text; “meat” counters in supermarkets, and fellow
shoppers who put the cellophane-wrapped contents on the conveyer belts next
to us at checkout. We get regular online announcements of a recent exposé of
some new but all-too-familiar horror, with stories and video clips and
requests for signatures and donations. Petitions we can sign, judicious
donations we can make, and they help in more than one way. But if your
particular kind of work doesn’t require you to read the details and watch
the pictures, don’t watch them, says Melanie Joy; do not injure yourself
more than necessary.
Some of us do not despair about the ultimate fate of the victimized animals,
being convinced that prayer can still make a difference even after their
deaths. When dealing with instances of the everyday painful scenes mentioned
above, one thing I do to support the spirit of the deceased animal is to
repeat a line I learned from Judy Carman: “I see you. I love you.” It helps
me personally that I have made extensive study of the vast evidence that
human consciousness survives death, and I no longer doubt it (nor does
Judy). Evidence that animal consciousnesses survive is not as abundant, but
what there is has strong resemblance to the evidence for human survival, and
thus is very suggestive. But for those of us who don’t know the evidence,
lack the time to explore it, and operate out of the extinctionist beliefs of
most educated persons in our culture, Judy’s line can still be helpful. We
can take an “as-if” stance; we can say the line as-if it would help a
little--or even a lot--to heal that suffering spirit. In any case, it will
help us, and we too need all the help we can get.
Concretely, we must show compassion for ourselves: we must not minimize our
own suffering nor let others minimize it, even though we know it is less
than the hell the animals endure. Nor should we beat ourselves up when we
make a mistake. Rather, we must accept the fact that we are neither perfect
nor almighty, and cannot do more than part, usually only a small part, of
all we would like to do. If we hurt another, we can apologize and make
amends, forgive ourselves, and go on. We must take vacations from our work
of mercy, not only major ones but mini-ones. Putting it aside regularly to
refresh ourselves with something enjoyable--e.g., working on painting a
picture, doing a jigsaw puzzle, reaching for an “escapist” book or DVD,
cuddling with a Significant Other--is not a vice, it is a virtue. It shows
that we love ourselves as well as our neighbors.
It is an affirmation that, despite the enormous anguish and the oceans of
blood still being shed, the reason we keep on keeping on is that we affirm,
in the words of William James, that ultimately “the universe is friendly.”
The final word is not ignorance and cruelty and violence, but Compassion and
Joy, even a Heart of Love inspiring our hearts to love.
Who knows...such an affirmation, lived out, may even make that cosmic Love a
little stronger.
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