art by Kellie Been
Marshall
I never wanted to work with animals. I always knew that this kind of work wasn't for me, but my university requires that neuroscience students participate in a course in which conducting an "experiment" with rats is included.
I didn't know what to expect going into everything, I had never really been around rats before. I didn't realize that rats are so intelligent and had so much personality.
I was assigned to take care of and conduct the "experiments" on just one rat, whom I named Marshall. I tried not to, but since I had to spend so much time with him I found that I grew very attached; he was always very excited to see me, and after a while started exhibiting several behaviors that, I now know, are things rats do when they are happy. We were instructed to handle them daily. I was also allowed to give Marshall treats as a reward after testing.
I always knew we were supposed to sacrifice the rats at the end, but I didn't know how hard it would be.
We ran the last trial, I gave my boy some treats, and then we had to bring him to the room where my professor was waiting to perform the perfusion. Marshall was so comfortable with me, and I had to hand him over to be killed.
We were told the injection would be painless, but he shrieked when the needle went in. I had to leave and ended up having a panic attack in the hallway. Eventually, some classmates came by and I managed to pull myself together enough to get back up. By then my boy was gone. I had to clean out his cage before leaving and found the last treat I gave him still in his cage, with just a few nibbles taken out of it. Marshall was probably full from all the other treats I gave him before and thought he could save it for later, but he'll never get to finish it now.
I didn't have a choice in whether or not my rat was sacrificed, but I still feel like I betrayed him. Marshall trusted me, and I handed him over to be killed. I don't know how to handle this guilt. I feel like I lost a piece of myself that day. Harming animals goes against everything I believe in, and now I am responsible for the death of an animal that trusted me. I feel betrayed by my institution, by my professor, and by science as a whole. The scientific world has always been so important to me, they're supposed to be the ones who work to make the world better. I used to believe that the majority of neuroscience animal research was justified, that the sacrifice was worth it in order to learn more about the brain, but I can't help but look at things differently now. Too many neuroscientists sacrifice too many animals for too little usable data to justify what they do. What is the point of sacrificing dozens to hundreds to thousands of animals just to walk away with the conclusion that "more research is needed"? How many is too many?
I have been a staunch utilitarian my entire life; long before I knew the name for it I always believed that we all had a moral obligation to achieve the “most good” whenever possible, even if it meant doing things that were otherwise reprehensible. Looking back, I believe this is why animal research was never something that I thought too much about even though I was passionate about animal rights in other spheres; I justified its existence by believing it when I was told that this work was necessary for the advancement of technology and medicine, that these animals were suffering for the “greater good.” Needless to say I no longer see it that way.
I think it is really easy to say that we should do “whatever it takes” in regards to things like curing disease, but actually being a part of the cruelty is another matter. I no longer think that the majority of these experiments are designed with thoughtful consideration into what the price of these animals’ lives are, I no longer believe that we can justify the real pain and suffering of the tens of thousands of animals we sacrifice every year by hiding behind the potential good it could bring for us, and most importantly I no longer believe that the “end justifies the means.”
How we do things matters just as much as what we accomplish, but it seems that many scientists in my field and others have lost sight of that; chasing prestige at the expense of high-quality science. By continuing to rely on outdated animal methods and refusing to even discuss the question of if these experiments are truly worth the cost, we are not only failing the animals who are at our mercy, but we are also failing the people we claim to want to help by not producing useable results that could translate to human trials.
Artist Statement
kellie been
What stood out to me the most in the story of Marshall is the moment in which he is passed on from one individual to the next, a transitional period of life to death. This, I realized, is what I wanted to illustrate. The use of color can be powerful, if well-applied, and so I did my best to emphasize the weight of the moment via striking hues. The blue-gloved hand represents the student, and signifies calmness, trust, and security. The red-gloved hand is that of the professor, representing danger and, of course, the color of blood. The red of the glove casts an ominous shadow onto Marshall, looking, perhaps, like blood dripping onto his fur. It was my husband's idea to have the professor's hand come in almost claw-like towards Marshall, bringing to mind a cage, the bars of a jail, or the jaws of a predator closing in to devour its subject. I loved this idea and incorporated it into the piece. Marshall's eyes I colored blue to connect to the blue gloves of his caretaker.
Although I do not know the gender of the student in the story, their hand I drew in a more feminine way to emphasize softness, and a glow was added around said hand to make it appear more angelic. Emphasis on "appear". One might say that all of these representations are a bit on the nose or even trite. That is on purpose. You may notice that there is a slight glow around the hand of the professor, as well, and the red of the glove is reflected not just on Marshall, but also on the blue-gloved hand of the student. Neither party is guiltless here. There is blood on the student's hand, too, so to speak, and the slight glow around the red-gloved hand of the professor represents good intention: the loss of a life for what they believe will benefit more lives.
Only the face of the rat is shown. This is purposeful. I wanted the audience to focus solely on his expression and the hues encompassing him, forcing the viewer to pay direct attention to the subject in question. Additionally, not seeing the humans themselves (aside from their gloved hands) emphasizes "character embodiment" -- any one of us could be, or has been, the student and/or the professor.
I deeply sympathize and empathize with the writer of this story, for I have been in a very similar position as them and cannot escape the memories of life in the lab. Although I was responsible for caring for the animals, my only purpose was to ensure their health and security so they could eventually be experimented on and killed. It's an ironic position; one that sticks with you, whether you want it to or not.