Anthropocentrism -- a notion that would place humans at the center of a universe made just for them -- seems out of place in a society in which 99% of its citizens are self-proclaimed environmentalists.  Even so, we can readily locate the many destructive effects of anthropocentrism in our everyday lives, as we continue to distance and alienate ourselves from other animals.  Children's fictional literature may seem an unlikely source of this myth.  Indeed, some animal fantasies such as Charlotte's Web, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, and The Plague Dogs  offer powerful lessons about interspecies compassion and understanding.

Yet these kinds of stories are more the exception than the rule.  The anthropomorphism that we typically find in fantasy literature creates animal characters as mere stand-ins for humans.  Consider the Ant and the Elephant, The Lion King, and the many stories of Winnie the Pooh.  Their characteristic anthropomorphism limits their potential for counter-mythmaking, at least when it comes to human-centeredness.  Yet fictional realism for children is no panacea.  While such classic stories as Gentle Ben; National Velvet; Big Red; The Wolfling; and Lassie, Come Home  promote interspecies compassion, they may also reinforce traditional species boundaries.

Such contradictory messages co-exist in real life as well.  The paradoxical nature of our relationship with those animals that bestow affection on us is that they are also dependent creatures over whom we can easily exercise dominance (Tuan).  The view of pets as family members or "companion animals" coexists uneasily with the dominant view of pet animals as subordinates or mere possessions .  Furthermore, as we persist in seeing (certain) animals merely as pets, we tend to conceive the interests of other animals in a reduced form consistent with the institution of petkeeping.  George Bernard Shaw put this into perspective in his essay entitled "The Womanly Woman": If we have come to think that the nursery and the kitchen are the natural sphere of women, we have done so exactly as English children come to think that a cage is the natural sphere of a parrot -- because they have never seen one anywhere else  (in Roszak & Roszak, 60).  Although the issue is women's rights, we can see how a similar argument can be applied to the case of our treatment of other animals.

The theme of petkeeping is prominent within the genre of fictional animal realism, making it a unique cite to examine our culture's understanding of that practice.  There are at least two aspects of a large portion of the stories that reflect and reinforce anthropocentric ideas:  (1) literary pets consistently receive a favored status, and (2) most other animals who do not enjoy this status remain in the background to be treated indiscriminately as objects or replaceable commodities.  Both aspects help to create a hierarchy of species by intensifying the subordination and objectification of these animals and, by association, all similar animals.  Such limited animal portrayals mirror the paradoxes of real life:  many of us bestow great affection and concern for our pets and those animals for whom we already feel a bonding and kinship but also adopt a highly utilitarian view of domesticated farm animals, animal labeled "pests," and the preservation of other vanishing species.  Whether in real life or in literature, our preoccupation with pets functions to delimit the arena in which we might negotiate the meaning of the bond humans have with other animals.

Some readers may quite rightly point out that a good portion of children's literature seems to celebrate the child and farm animal (pigs, chickens, cows, etc.) connection.  While these stories may illustrate such a connection, my research involving contemporary animal realism (based on a systematically drawn sample) finds that the emphasis shifts to pets and wild animals as the age of the intended reader increases.  In fact, many popular stories intended for the "middle reader" (children between the approximate ages of 10 and 16 years) suggest a necessary disengagement with animals as children mature.  Growing up (especially for boys) means growing away from animals.  My Friend Flicka  and The Yearling  are clear examples.  We even find this kind of disengagement reappearing in the cinematic version of The Yearling, Free Willy, and The Little Mermaid.

There are several possible reasons why these ideas may seem incongruous with our recollections of the stories.  First, the anthropocentric assumptions are only implicit in children's entertainment.  They remain imbedded in the largely hidden structure of the narratives, and we cannot detect them as characteristics of the genre without a structural analysis of the texts.  Second, because these assumptions and messages are regularly produced not only in literature but in real life, they win a kind of familiarity and credibility.  This, too, makes it less likely that we will question them.  Third, our everyday knowledge of animals is fraught with contradictions and inconsistencies.  At times we shower affection on other animals and, at other times, maltreat or kill them; at times we value them for their sentient qualities and, at other times, simply for their functional utility.  Pet owners spend more on pet food than parents spend on baby food, yet we kill millions of our beloved companions every year in "animal shelters" (Arluke and Sanders).  A recent example appears in a report of a deceased New Englander whose final will and testament requests that his four horses and mule be put to death and buried next to him.  Weren't Egyptian pharaohs similarly known to take their servants, pets, and other possessions with them to their tombs?

Most of us don't problematize these contradictory experiences but instead find ways to accommodate and normalize them.  This suggests that in order to secure an accurate picture of the task involved in eliminating this form of prejudice, we must (1) consider the many and varied ways this prejudice is defined and reinforced and (2) understand better the ways that people balance such conflicting values and succeed in sidestepping any significant challenges to their basic convictions.

Clearly, narratives are only one means by which children (and adults) learn to define themselves and their relationships to nonhuman animals.  Furthermore, the literary anthropocentrism I discuss here combines with that of other cultural forms such as comics, cartoons, commercials, games, traditions, rituals, and films to supply additional support for species boundaries.  Whether pet or pest, livestock or vermin, the hierarchy of species is a type of story we tell ourselves about the meaning of our place in the world.  Admittedly, there is a growing awareness of animal intelligence and concern for the moral status of animals.  History shows us that animals once regarded as evil or even demonic are now often regarded as pets, or at least an integral part of the ecosystem.  But if we learn anything from the atrocities of Bosnia, Rwanda, and Kosovo, it's that moral progress is never guaranteed.

Arluke, Arnold & Clinton R. Sanders. (1996). Regarding Animals.   Philadelphia: Temple University Press.
Roszak, B., & Roszak, T. (1969). Masculine/feminine Readings in Sexual  Mythology and the Liberation of Women.  New
        York: Harper and  Row.
Tuan, Y. (1984). Dominance and Affection: The Making of Pets. London:  Yale University.

 The relationship between people and their pets never ceases to be amazing.  It can be as profound and complex as any that arises between humans, yet bridging the distance of species adds a fascinating challenge and depth.  It is remarkable to think about how these intense bonds between humans and animals have been forming for millennia and still retain an air of mystery.  How is it that despite all of their differences, animals and humans can form such deep, emotional bonds?  I propose that people need to find commonalties with animals in order to establish a deep, emotional relationship with them, and they do this by identifying animals' behaviors with emotions or motivations to which they can relate.

As the word relationship indicates, in order to form an emotional bond, a human needs to be able to relate to the other human or animal.  However, in order to empathize, people need to be able to discern commonalties, to find some sort of common ground or shared realm of experience.  This means that, for humans, establishing a bond with another requires the recognition or identification of something in common between the two parties.

This search for common qualities is apparent in the interaction between people and their pets.  One manner in which people recognize traits in animals is by attributing emotions to behaviors.  For example:  a person observing a pet who responds aggressively to a favorite toy that has become stuck under the couch may comment, "My, aren't we grumpy today!" thereby attributing an emotional state to the animal.  This by no means contradicts the presence of emotion in the animal.  Attribution is, by definition, inferring the causes of behavior; therefore, attribution does not necessitate anthropomorphism because the causes inferred may be the true origins of the behavior.  However, inferring the cause of behavior to be a recognizable emotional state allows the human to establish a commonality between him/herself and the animal.

Another way in which people establish a connection, or common ground, with their pets is by attributing a human motivation (other than emotion) to the animals' actions.  For example:  when a pet is charging after another pet and making threatening noises, a person may explain the behavior in this manner, "He is just getting revenge because she beat up on him yesterday."  This interpretation attributes revenge, a human motivation, to the animal's behavior.  Whether or not this is the true motivation for the action has comparatively little relevance.  While consistent misinterpretation of behavior (for example:  the motivation was the pet's evil nature rather than revenge) may lead to a future weakening of the relationship by undermining its foundation, it will not hinder its creation.  During the formative process, however, it serves as another point of reference to which the person can relate.  The two examples presented above offer evidence of the way in which humans establish common ground and therefore construct the foundation necessary to establish an emotional bond with the animals.

One possible objection to the theory of how humans establish relationships with animals, as explained above, is exemplified by human interactions with wolves.  In dealing with wolves, people enter into the hierarchical social structure established by the wolves, and it is their behavior in relation to the pack that determines their rank within the society.  It is the interpretation of the human's behavior that conforms to the ideals held by the wolves, rather than the vice versa as demonstrated above.  Superficially, this example seems to oppose the theory.  In response to this suggestion, however, one must consider the process that is occurring.  From the wolves' perspective, the human displays expected or common behaviors to which the wolves can relate.  It is possible that they too are using a similar method to provide the foundation necessary to establish an emotional bond.  What is important to note, though, is that as this socialization process takes place, common behaviors and experiences are also being established from the human's perspective.  This means that the interactions are pouring the required human foundation for a relationship, thereby supporting rather than contradicting the theory.

While bridging the distance between species may appear a daunting task, humans and animals take the challenge and triumph.  As we have seen, the process of identifying animals' behaviors with emotions or motivations to which people can relate, allows humans to form the connections that foster the deep, emotional bonds we witness between people and their pets.

  It is the duty of our generation, the young and educated people of the future, to teach others and ourselves to think consciously about natural resources.  We live on a limited planet, one which has many boundaries that we must learn to live within.  We also have only a limited amount of resources and a limited amount of space by which to dispose of these resources.  With our continued, exponentially growing population who knows how far these resources will be able to stretch?  There is one simple solution to much of the waste that we create through our consumption patterns:  reduce, reuse, and recycle.

Recycling starts with us.  When we consume goods, much of the packaging that comes along with it can be reused and put back into the production cycle without further extraction of resources from the Earth.  In turn, much of our "trash" can be turned into recyclable goods.  What comes out of our consumption is as much our responsibility as what goes into it.  It's not just "somebody else's job"; it's everyone's.  Right here on campus many facilities are provided for the convenience of all.  Recycling on Campus at Keene State (R.O.C.K.S.) encourages the concept of preservation by establishing methods of organizing specific solid waste.  This organization consists of collecting plastic, aluminum, tin, glass, paper, and newspaper that can all be recycled and reused.  These items are then transferred to the local recycling plant where they undergo the process of being deposited back into our consumption patterns.  It is quite an amazing process.  I know this because I work there.  Although, sadly enough, for as much effort as we workers put forth, we do not get the kind of response that is possible on a campus of this size.  Student tuition helps to pay for me to collect your recyclables, but where are all the collectibles?  Would you be happy if the food you paid for was not served to you?  By failing to take part in a system that has already been implemented for us, we, in turn, become a major part of the overall problem.  We are only taking away from our children and their rights to beauty when we fail to act consciously, responsibly, and respectfully.  How will you explain that to your children?

One prominent environmental sociologist notes that "It is people who create environmental problems for society -- problems that threaten our existing patterns of social organization...and it is the people who must resolve them" (Bell, p. 2).  We must change the social organization of our daily lives (our living patterns) by "thinking carefully about how we as a community organize the circumstances in which people make environmentally significant decisions" (p. 32).

Taking into account the wealth of our nation and all of the useful technology that we have, we still fail to accomplish all that is possible.  According to European Trade Associations, the United States lags behind other industrialized nations in paper and glass recycling.  In examining developed countries, the Trade Associations reported that the U.S. recycled only 32% of its glass containers in 1996.  This does not stand up to the efforts of Europe (50%), Japan (60%), Germany (75%), and especially to the Dutch's efforts of recycling 81% of its reusable glass in that same year (Raymond, 1997).  The same goes for the paper recovery in America.  We only recycled about 44% of our paper, falling far behind Japan's efforts at 60%, and Europe's labors of a 50% turn-a-round rate of paper products (Raymond, 1997).  As citizens of the United States, these statistics speak to all of us, and the lower standards fall on all of our shoulders.  For many, changing the existing patterns of our lives may seem an insurmountable task.  However, the battle begins anew everyday.  We can  make this happen.  It's quite simple once we become aware of what we are actually doing.  Some people have joined voluntary simplicity movements in which individuals choose lifestyles that are "more in tune with the environment and more out of tune with competitive consumerism" (Bell, p. 62).

Aldo Leopold once said, "a thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community.  It is wrong when it tends otherwise" (Ibid, p. 27).  Nature continually recycles; nothing can be created nor destroyed, just rearranged.  This is one of the Laws of Thermodynamics.  We, too, should take our rightful place within the biotic community.  Think: it's the least we could do for that which gives us life, our only home, our mother, the planet Earth.  We cannot leave it up to our political representatives; we must look to ourselves.  The future depends on it.  Like the saying goes, "when the people lead, the leaders will follow."  The time and place to act is here and now.  Reduce, Reuse, and Recycle.

Bell, Michael Mayerfeld. (1998) An Invitation to Environmental Sociology.   California: Pine Forge Press.

Raymond, Inc. (1997). U.S. Lags Behind Other Nations in Paper and Glass  Recycling. On-line:
        www.raymond.com/rates97.html.

Pumpkins, candy, scary costumes, and spooky houses are all part of Halloween.  In Keene, New Hampshire, these traditions are rolled into one fun-filled day known as the Pumpkin Festival.  Last year the Keene community made its eighth attempt to beat the world record for the most lit pumpkins in one place.

Through the years, the Pumpkin Festival has become a major ritual for the small city of Keene.  Since 1993 when the festival made the Guinness Book of World Records, it has been the goal of the community to beat each year's record.  And indeed they beat it:  the number of pumpkins this past year totaled 17,693, some 4,261 more than the year before.  Keene broke its attendance record, too, with about 40,000 people participating -- more than ever before.  This event highlights two cultural characteristics of the American society:  individualism and the collective effort toward success.

Richard A. Schewder and Edmund J. Bourne distinguish two distinct ways in which the person is conceived in different societies:  the egocentric and sociocentric view of self.  The American society adopted the egocentric view.  Each person is capable of acting independently from others.  The individual is the center of awareness, a distinct whole set against other wholes.  In this view, a high value is placed on individualism and self-reliance.  Americans believe that it is desirable to assert themselves, to stand out, and to take charge.  Individuals establish their autonomy in social situations where they actively try to distinguish themselves from others.

At the Pumpkin Festival, despite the appearance of a collective action, signs of distinctiveness were evident.  Some participants carved their names in their pumpkins instead of the traditional Jack-O-Lantern face.  Names of some companies were also carved on a line of several pumpkins.  But the thing that most amazed me was the man who proposed to a woman by the way of pumpkins placed high on the scaffolding in the square.  It read, "Tiffany, will you marry me?"  What could be more personal in the middle of thousands of pumpkins that were not so distinct?  Within this largely collective competition, this man took the opportunity to assert his individuality.

It is important to take the sociocentric view into consideration.  This view states that the self is context-dependent:  the self exists as an entity only within the concrete situations or roles occupied by the person, and not in some autonomous, separate self.  The action of proposing to a girl by the way of carved pumpkins gains originality and distinctiveness largely because it is part of a bigger and less individualistic action.  Thus, in regard to the observed Pumpkin Festival, we see a mutuality of both the egocentric and sociocentric views.  We need to qualify the subjective side of the egocentric view -- separate individuals, independent, responsible for themselves -- with the objective side.  To argue that Americans are individualists misses their dependence on others -- individuals or groups.

Indeed, individuality and group membership are connected.  The correlation of the two views results in the following:  teamwork, hard work, specialization, submission to a dominant authority, and dedication.  And the aim of this discipline is to achieve success.

Let's emphasize again how collective effort is important.  Robbins, in his book Cultural Anthropology, writes "nobody is anybody except in relation to somebody."  In this case of achieving success, like beating the previous record of the number of pumpkins and above all keeping the world record, many inhabitants of the Monadnock Region must participate in the event.  And this collective action, made of many individual participations, gains a collective success and prestige for the city of Keene.  And each participant will get personal pride for having contributed to this success.

We can also compare the process of achieving success with the organization of a business.  Indeed, American culture emphasizes the characteristics of the operation of a business corporation.  The Pumpkin Festival is teamwork:  the day before the festival, we could see hundreds of Keene State College students carving pumpkins on the Quad.  The role of each person was specialized -- whether to carve or to bring the pumpkins downtown, to count them, to supervise the traffic in the city, etc.  And the whole event is submitted to a dominant authority, the Keene Community.  This strict organization, the submission of everyone to that discipline and its efforts, makes the achievement of their goal possible.  Keene gained prestige through its success achieved by a collective and organized action.  The Pumpkin Festival is a metaphor of the struggle to gain success through a business, corporation-like organization.

Success and prestige are strong cultural concepts within American society.  Their meanings are embedded in activities shared by members of the society.  The Pumpkin Festival of Keene highlights a prime example of these concepts.