Social institutions serve not only to meet society's needs, but also to maintain society. This is certainly true for the institution of education. Here, certain values and norms are cultivated and passed on to students. Part of this process means the active exclusion of many ideas, and, unfortunately, significant obstructions and disincentives for challenging the status quo. I've been following the story of Sinem Ketenci, a graduate student of social work at Ryerson University, Canada who has experienced academic discrimination based on her identification as a vegan.
Ketenci first met resistance when she examined the intersections of human and nonhuman inequality in a course paper. Her professor found this topic offensive and denied that nonhumans issues of inequality were appropriate for scholarly attention. Her work was even labeled as racist, which is interesting as Ketenci is of Turkish nationality and was raised as a Muslim. She is all to familiar with the experience of racial discrimination. As the rest of the faculty soon sided with this professor, Ketenci met further resistance as no other faculty member would agree to work with Ketenci. Thereafter, Ketenci's advisor, without her knowledge, withdrew his letters of recommendation to doctoral programs she had applied to. No other faculty members would agree to write her recommendation letters. This effectively brought her academic continuation to a grinding halt.
Having exhausted the complaint process at the school's discrimination and harassment office, Ketenci has submitted her claim to the human rights tribunal of Ontario.
Ketenci builds her case on the moral and spiritual aspects of ethical veganism. I would argue that while the principles of veganism might be included in many religions, veganism is in no way a religion of its own accord. In fact, most vegans tend to be secular. Nonetheless, having demonstrated that veganism is a deeply held belief, Ketenci should have been allowed to continue her studies on the topic so long as they were appropriate to the course assignment.
Unfortunately, discrimination against vegans is not uncommon within the educational system. Like many social institutions, education largely serves to reproduce a population compliant with prevailing systems of production and the ideologies that support them. Veganism threatens the status quo and prevailing power relations. So, understandably, veganism meets resistance. I myself have experienced significant instances of academic discrimination and misconduct because of my veganism. As a high school student, I refused to participate in a fetal pig dissection. My teacher allowed for this, but insisted my make-up project be an essay that discussed the benefits of nonhuman animal testing. I decided I would write an essay that denied any benefit of nonhuman animal testing. Needless to say, I received a zero. During my studies as an undergrad, our biology lab teacher presented the option of exclusion from another fetal pig dissection if we could present a case for our strongly held beliefs against participation. He discussed the matter hurridly and prefaced it by stating that it probably wouldn't even be an issue, but he was "required" to mention it (thereby normalizing comfort with the dissection and alienating those who might object). He also threatened that only a few students would be allowed to take this option and that significant extra work would be required of them (beginning with the case we were expected to produce--which entailed an essay of several pages and many meetings with a department head). The presumption was that nobody would really hold any strong beliefs against the dissection, and that people who opted out were really just trying to get out of class, further ostracizing potential abstainers. The burden of proof was put on the conscientious objector. This is all extremely intimidating for first year students. Opting out, in other words, was significantly discouraged and deterred.
However, I was not discouraged or deterred. In one of my first days as a Phd student, we were discussing symbolic interactionalism in my social stratification course. The ability to use and understand symbols was highlighted as one of the key distinctions in human society. I objected, noting that my cat certainly knows and uses symbols. He knows what a door is, for example, even though it appears only to be part of the wall when shut. He has learned to meow at it when he wants to go in another room. I also argued that many nonhumans have complex languages, using bees as an example. The other students were very interested in these suggestions and engaged them at length. At which point, the professor cut off the discussion and insisted, "We will never know whether they do or not, they're not important, lets get back to the discussion at hand." I was shocked--of course they are important. What's more, our ignorance and prejudice towards nonhumans is resulting in an ongoing and unquestioned genocide on a scale that is nearly too large to fathom. I vowed from that moment on that I would make it a point to speak up for the nonhumans whenever the opportunity presented itself. Every discussion, reflection essay, special project, and final paper would receive representation from the nonhuman minority. Soon after, this new found determination led me to refocus my dissertation work on the nonhuman animal rights movement.
My advice to any scholars interested in centering their studies and research on nonhuman animal rights issues is to take care in choosing an appropriate program, an appropriate school, and an appropriate committee of professors. I find Ketenci's case to be very strange, as there in an increasing body of literature in the social work field which recognizes the interrelatedness of human and nonhuman injustice. Yet, because her research specifically focuses on intersectionality of race and species, her research might be more appropriate within a sociology, philosophy, or political science program. This is not to say that nonhuman studies should not be expanded to other departments, but you should make sure that your topic is appropriate for your discipline. What's more, universities vary a great deal in their academic focus. I chose Colorado State University, for example, because of it's focus on environmental issues, global inequality, and social problems. Your professors matter as well--while it is a wonderful perk if your professor is knowledgeable or at least sympathetic to nonhuman animal studies, what's most important is that your professor is professional and fair. Unfortunately, this is not always the case in academia and should not be taken as a given. I am very fortunate to have an amazing dissertation committee representing a wide breadth of knowledge on social movement theory and nonhuman animal issues in a program that largely supports research centered on inequality and marginalized groups.
On a final note, I took an ecology class in high school with a wonderful teacher named Mr. Hodges. On the day we covered hunting, I asked that I be excused from watching the film. He consented and he did not penalize me. In fact, he encouraged me to discuss my objections with the class--though I was only 16 at the time and quite shy, so the opportunity was missed. A week later, we had a test which included three questions about the importance of hunting. I chose not to answer them. Mr. Hodges later met me after class and asked if I did not answer those questions intentionally. When I confirmed this, he did not penalize me. I wish all teachers could be like Mr. Hodges, but alas, academia is not always the open-minded, liberal, paradise to freethinking we presume it to be. Regardless, I commend Ketenci and others like her who fight for the inclusion of nonhuman animal issues in their respective fields. The educational institution is foremost in shaping the values and beliefs of our society. So, we must be diligent in holding this system accountable for its responsibility in building a just and equal world for us to live and learn in.
