Animal abuse, biotechnology and species justice

787179 TCR0010.1177/1362480618787179Theoretical CriminologyGoyes and Sollund research-article2018 Article Animal abuse, biotechnology and species justice Theoretical Criminology 2018, Vol. 22(3) 363–383 © The Author(s) 2018 Article reuse guidelines: sagepub.com/journals-permissions https://doi.org/10.1177/1362480618787179 DOI: 10.1177/1362480618787179 journals.sagepub.com/home/tcr David Rodríguez Goyes Universidad Antonio Narino, Colombia Ragnhild Sollund University of Oslo, Norway Abstract Generally, in the modern, western world, conceptualizations of the natural environment are associated with what nature can offer us—an anthropocentric perspective whereby humans treat nature and all its biotic components as ‘natural resources’. When nature and the beings within it are regarded purely in utilitarian terms, humans lose sight of the fact that ecosystems and nonhuman animals have intrinsic value. Most biotechnological use of nonhuman animals is informed by an instrumental view of nature. In this article, we endeavour to broaden the field of animal abuse studies by including in it the exploration of biotechnological abuse of animals. We analyse the issue by discussing it in relation to differing philosophical starting points and, in particular, the rights and justice theory developed within green criminology. Keywords Animal abuse, biopiracy, biotechnology, ecophilosophy, green criminology, wildlife trafficking Introduction There seem to be few, if any, moral or ethical limitations to what humans do to nonhuman animals (e.g. Beirne, 1999, 2009; Nurse, 2015; Sollund, 2008, 2013a, 2013b). Corresponding author: David Rodriguez Goyes, Faculty of Law, Universidad Antonio Narino, Cl. 58a Bis #37–94, Bogota, 111321, Colombia. Email: [email protected] 364 Theoretical Criminology 22(3) For example, nonhuman animals are killed for ‘fun’ and as ‘sport’ in hunting (e.g. Lawson, 2017; Sollund, 2017a), and they are exploited in various forms of entertainment, such as in races and fights (e.g. Lawson, 2017; Young, 2017), circuses and zoos (e.g. Berger, 2009: 36). On a large scale, humans breed and kill nonhuman animals for food production in harmful and cruel ways (e.g. Adams, 1996; Cudworth, 2017; Wyatt, 2014) and subject them to painful experiments (e.g. Menache, 2017; Regan, 2012; Sollund, 2008). In this article, we address the ways in which humans, via biotechnology, use and abuse freeborn nonhuman animals by subjecting them to processes aimed at developing medicines and other products for human benefit. Such processes reflect a utilitarian view of nonhuman animals (Singer, 1995) from which a ‘welfarist’ position is derived (e.g. Svärd, 2008)—and in contrast to a perspective that considers nonhuman animals as beings possessing their own right(s) (Francione, 2009, 2014; Regan, 1986; cf. Pellow, 2013). These perspectives or stances, which may be positioned along a continuum regarding the extent to which nonhuman animals should have rights, may be viewed in relation to (other) philosophical directions that will be treated in more detail in this article. Our goals, then, are as follows: (1) to position biotechnological animal abuse in the field of animal abuse studies; (2) to show the complexity of developing studies of biotechnological use of nonhuman animals; and (3) to explore the moral and ethical implications of biotechnological use of nonhuman animals. We begin by placing the study within the field of green criminology, including animal abuse studies and so-called ‘wildlife trafficking’. This allows us to connect animal exploitation for traditional (e.g. Ngoc and Wyatt, 2013; Van Uhm, 2016) and western medicine (Regan, 2007, 2012; Sollund, 2008) to the more ‘modern’ animal exploitation within biotechnological research for medical purposes. We then provide an overview of the concept of biotechnology and an introduction to the field of bioprospecting, more generally. These concepts are illuminated through an examination of the exploitation of the ‘poison dart frog’, in which we draw on our own empirical research from Colombia. We then turn to the philosophical debate surrounding the use of animals in biotechnology. We argue that whereas traditional medicine is condemned for the harms it causes to animals, biotechnology escapes those deserved criticisms due to the legitimacy conferred by the label of modern western science. We conclude that most current uses of animals by biotechnology are a prolongation of the harmful logic behind the abuse of animals for development of traditional medicine. A note about language Before proceeding, a note about language and its impact is in order, because the way we talk about things shapes the way we see them. ‘Wildlife’ is an anthropocentric term, which conceptualizes nonhuman animals as a group, rather than as individuals. In this terminology, nonhuman freeborn animals are often referred to as ‘specimens’, rather than as individuals. The concept also usually includes both plants and nonhuman animals. For example, TRAFFIC, the Wildlife Trade Monitoring Network, a leading international nongovernmental organization, defines ‘wildlife trade’ as: Goyes and Sollund 365 any sale or exchange of wild animal and plant resources by people. This can involve live animals and plants or a diverse range of products needed or prized by humans—including skins, medicinal ingredients, tourist curios, timber, fish and other food products. (http://www.traffic.org/trade/) In many respects, ‘wildlife’ trafficking can be discussed in relation to human trafficking, but whereas humans are always regarded as victims during such events, nonhuman animals are seldom accorded victim status (e.g. Maher and Sollund, 2016b; Sollund, 2013b, 2017a, 2017b; White, 2018). Words ‘make our reality’ or what we think of as empirically ‘true’. For example, for most people, the word ‘meat’ represents food rather than the torture and painful death of nonhuman animals followed by the consumption of their body parts (Gålmark, 2008). Words also shape the ways in which we conceptualize what is right or wrong: they can be used to degrade beings in the eyes of others and can serve to maintain the status quo based on unjust practices (e.g. Adams, 1996; Foucault, 1991). This is particularly pronounced with respect to the word ‘animal’, which treats all animals (except for human animals) as the same, when, in reality, ‘animal’ represents myriad species—from corals to parrots, elephants to amphibians. The concepts ‘animal’, ‘nonhuman animal’ and ‘animals other than human animals’ are therefore also anthropocentric and alienating, positioning all other animals as precisely ‘the others’ (Sollund, 2017a). While acknowledging all these terminological shortcomings, in what follows we will, for simplicity and with regret, employ the term ‘nonhuman animal’ and the abbreviation ‘WLT’ for ‘wildlife trade/trafficking’, whether or not this trafficking is criminalized. By ‘trafficking’, we mean the forceful abduction of a nonhuman animal from her/his habitat, the trading/ transporting of her/him, the keeping of him/her as a captive and, in most cases, the killing of her/him for use of specific body parts (e.g. tusks, horns, penis). In relation to behaviour referred to as ‘collecting’, as in the case study concerning frogs, below, we regard the term ‘abduction’ to be a more accurate description of the forceful taking of nonhuman animals from their habitats (Sollund, 2011). Finally, distinguish the terms ‘use’ and ‘abuse’. Although most biotechnological uses of animals constitute abuses, we do not employ them interchangeably throughout our article. Our hope is that biotechnology that does not rely on the physical and psychological abuse of nonhuman animals can be developed and that ways can thus be found to reconcile scientific development with nature so that nonhuman animals might be a source of inspiration for innovations that could improve the lives of human and nonhuman animals alike, while respecting their individual and respective intrinsic value(s). Animal abuse and green criminology Since Robert Agnew’s (1998) and Piers Beirne’s (1999) articles about animal abuse, scholarship on animal abuse has increased in criminology, in general and in green criminology, more specifically. Many criminologists—green or otherwise—now write about different forms of animal abuse (e.g. Maher et al., 2017), drawing on interdisciplinary 366 Theoretical Criminology 22(3) studies to discuss the moral implications of the human–nonhuman animal relationship (e.g. Beirne, 1999; Halsey and White, 1998; Sollund, 2008, 2017d; White, 2013, 2018), and the topic is now accepted as a legitimate field of study within the discipline (e.g. Cazaux, 1999; Nurse, 2015; Sollund, 2008). Among the sub-topics covered by animal abuse studies, two are of direct interest for us here: animal trafficking and vivisection. We submit that animal bioprospecting is integral to and related to both. Below we present an overview of animal bioprospecting and show relevant interconnections. WLT and its relation to medicinal practices One of the prominent topics within the field of animal abuse studies consists of analyses of crimes and harms related to WLT. Most studies of WLT within mainstream criminology adopt an economic and legalistic approach, treating the crimes as something that encroaches upon the ‘common good’. Such crimes are therefore analysed just as crimes— as theft or ‘poaching’—which can be prevented through measures such as situational crime prevention (Lemieux, 2014; Pires and Clarke, 2012; Pires and Moreto, 2011). Such contributions have been criticized for neglecting species justice perspectives (e.g. Sollund, 2013b; White, 2013) and for being too narrow in their focus on crime. Much the way the concept of ‘ecosystem services’ is too narrow and anthropocentric to reflect the relationship that humans (should) have to nature—and the harms done to nature when its ecosystem functions are destroyed (Vetlesen, 2016)—conceptualizing freeborn animals as resources that are ‘stolen’ or ‘poached’ implies that nonhuman animals are valuable only as someone else’s property, such as the state’s (Sollund, 2017a, forthcoming). Other scholars within green criminology acknowledge that WLT has a broad anthropocentric foundation that needs to be questioned and which includes—or should include— harms that extend beyond those defined as criminal. Whether or not acts involved in WLT are criminalized should not be what draws the attention of criminologists; rather, the harms involved should be the focus (Goyes, 2015; Goyes and Sollund, 2016; Maher and Sollund, 2016a, 2016b; Maher and Wyatt, 2017; Sollund, 2011, 2013b, 2015, 2017c; Sollund and Maher, 2015; Van Uhm, 2016; Wyatt, 2013; cf. Brisman and South, 2014; South, 1998; White, 2008, 2013). Such a harm-based perspective frequently incorporates a critical, extended victimology (Fitzgerald, 2010; Sollund, 2017a; White, 2018) by which the nonhuman animals who are trafficked are regarded as victims who are harmed, rather than seeing humans as victims who may otherwise gain from the species’ survival. A great part of WLT is motivated by the belief people have in the medicinal use of nonhuman animals, as is the case with Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), Traditional Asian Medicine (TAM) or Traditional Oriental Medicine (TOM). Within these traditions, a large number of animal species are trafficked and killed—purportedly to cure a wide range of unwelcome physical conditions, such as arthritis, impotence, skin disease, menstrual pain, bacterial infection, cancer and blood diseases (e.g. Schuh, 2004; Van Uhm, 2016). Much of this animal exploitation is based merely on superstition and doxa (Sollund, 2012) and no medicinal value has been established (see, for example, Truong et al. (2016) on the supposed effect of rhinoceros’ horn). Such trade poses a serious threat to a wide range of nonhuman animals, from bears to pangolins to rhinoceroses, tigers and sea horses. Goyes and Sollund 367 The belief in the value of using nonhuman animals for human health benefits is not exclusive to Asian cultures. While more than 1500 nonhuman animal species are used in TCM, in India, nearly 15–20 per cent of Ayurvedic medicine is based on animal-derived substances (Alves, 2012: 13). In Latin America, at least 584 animal species have been used in traditional medicine, while ‘zootherapeutic’ practices are also found in Europe (Alves, 2012). Like other practices involving the exploitation of freeborn animals (Sollund, forthcoming), the abuse of animals for medicinal purposes is spreading and increasingly threatening many species (Alves, 2012). Animal experimentation (vivisection) Nonhuman animals of many species have been used in experiments since Roman times (Menache, 2017). They have been dissected and dismembered, and annual numbers of nonhuman animals used in experiments amount to 35 million worldwide (Bishop and Nolen, 2001). While vivisection is gradually being abandoned (see, for example, Germain et al., 2017), nonhuman animals are still used to produce basic knowledge for educational purposes (such as with dissections in secondary schools); to test the safety of new chemicals used in the food and beauty industry; and for tests in the weapons industry (Bishop and Nolen, 2001; Regan, 2007, 2012; Singer, 1995; Sollund, 2008). Nonhuman animals have also been abused in medical research—a field that includes experiments, such as the genetic modification of pigs in order to make them suited for organ transplants to humans (Klymiuk et al., 2010) and genetically ‘modifying’ mice to be born with cancer in order to experiment on them—the oncomouse (Linzey, 2013). In one experiment, which involved inserting human and chimpanzee brain cells into mouse embryos to assess brain development in the two primate species, a human brain cell DNA sequence caused the mouse embryo to grow a considerably larger brain than other embryos who had the chimpanzee version inserted (Boyd et al., 2015). In other experiments, researchers have drilled holes into the skulls of nonhuman animals, screwed metal restraint devices into their heads and inserted electrodes into their brains (Menache, 2017; Regan, 2007, 2012; Singer, 1995). These and countless other experiments to which nonhuman animals have been and are subjected are often extremely invasive and painful. Whether nonhuman animals are abducted from their habitats or are bred as ‘lab dogs’, ‘lab rats’ or ‘lab chimps’, their lives are generally not worth living, before they are killed— or ‘sacrificed’—as the lab researchers would prefer to call it (Sollund, 2008). Corporations, such as Columbus Instruments (http://www.colinst.com) and Huntingdon Life Sciences (https://www.linkedin.com/company/huntingdon-life-sciences/), are basing their businesses on the exploitation of nonhuman animals in experiments. Such business practices do not go unnoticed and have been met with protest by animal rights activists, who, in turn, have been subjected to persecution and prosecution (see, for example, Ellefsen, 2016; Lovitz, 2010). This reflects the strong economic and political interests of those involved with animal experimentation, especially the pharmaceutical industry. In 2000, 57,518 primates were used in laboratories in the USA—a figure that rose to over 71,317 in 2010 (Miller-Spiegel, 2011). Laboratories in the USA self-reported that 43 per cent of these primates experienced pain and distress (Miller-Spiegel, 2011). While primates who are used in experiments are accounted for—at least, in the USA—other species, such as 368 Theoretical Criminology 22(3) rats and mice, are not (Regan, 2007), and in Norway, ‘surplus’ animals are not included in the statistics (Sollund, 2008). Most animals used in research are bred specifically for this purpose, including beagles, who are often preferred because they of their ‘docility’. WLT and vivisection are strongly connected. Nonhuman primates have been and still are frequently abducted for experimentation and use in biomedical research because they bear physiological resemblance to human primates (Goyes, 2015; Maldonado et al., 2009). In Colombia, over the course of the last four decades, the Aotus vociferans and the Aotus nancymaae (night monkeys) have been trafficked from the Amazon basin, including from Peru and Brazil, to be used in malaria research experiments by the famous pathologist and immunologist, Dr Manuel Elkin Patarroyo in Colombia (Goyes, 2015; Maldonado and Lafon, 2017; Maldonado et al., 2009; Sollund, forthcoming). Biotechnological uses of animals and animal bioprospecting Humans use nonhuman animals to develop products for human benefit through biotechnology. The final product might be a creation that had as its basis a compound found in the animal. Biogenetics represents the newest development in biotechnology. It uses recombinant DNA technologies to develop products from living beings (Soberón Mainero, 2003). Bioprospecting (or biopiracy, depending on one’s perspective, as we will discuss further below)—a field within biotechnology—refers to the search for biological components for use in the development of new commodities. Specifically, bioprospecting is the research process whereby corporations and researchers use biological and genetic resources for extracting, isolating and purifying active compounds that are later transformed into marketable products that are patented in many cases (Goyes, 2013). Technologies and procedures developed in the field of biogenetics are among the tools used in bioprospecting processes. Whereas there exists a vast amount of literature in the field of animal abuse studies about vivisection (e.g. Menache, 2017; Regan, 2007) and in the field of ethics on the use of nonhuman animals in biotechnological processes (see, for example, Sherlock and Morrey, 2002; Twine, 2015)—and notwithstanding forceful international legislation concerning the access to ‘genetic resources’, such as the 2010 Nagoya Protocol—there has been little research in the fields of green criminology and animal abuse studies about the potential harms that such biotechnological practices bring about for the animals used. For this reason, we wish to extend the research on biotechnological uses of animals—and more specifically of animal bioprospecting—to animal abuse studies and green criminology. As suggested above, the issues of WLT, vivisection and bioprospecting are interconnected. Many animals are trafficked not only for eventual vivisection but also for bioprospecting processes. The research presented in this article is part of a larger project1 about WLT involving interviews in Brazil, Colombia and Norway. According to interviewees in Colombia, WLT for bioprospecting is a specialized market, whose main consumers are laboratories seeking particular species, such as amphibians possessing certain toxins. Biotechnical companies employ indigenous people and local farmers, who know where the animals live, to assist in their capture. According to one of our interviewees, Claudia Luz Rodríguez, this increase in the trafficking of nonhuman animals for pharmaceutical purposes has thus contributed to changing the dynamics of WLT in Colombia. Goyes and Sollund 369 Whether animals are trafficked for the purposes of bioprospecting or for other experimentation using vivisection may be difficult to discern. Bioprospecting, however, is interested specifically in the genetic compounds that nonhuman animals carry, which can be sources for the development of a new commodity. Because of its novelty, and its lack of representation in animal abuse studies, we present next a case study of bioprospecting that illustrates its moral and ethical dimensions. Epipedobates and epibatidine John W Daly, an American biochemist, conducted research for over 50 years at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in the United States. During his first years at the NIH, Daly was introduced to the study of toxins—the poisonous substances produced by living organisms. Eventually, he came to specialize in the study of frog toxins, becoming famous among biochemists for his trips to Central and South American rain forests in search of poisonous frogs. Daly undertook studies of the active compounds present in the toxins of the frogs’ skins, beginning by isolating the toxin, then making a structural and pharmacological characterization of it and finally trying to synthetize an analogue. Daly’s goal was to find valuable compounds present in the toxins produced by frogs and to develop new synthetic drugs from them. Daly is recognized for the discovery and later pharmacological characterization of three frog toxins—most famously, epibatidine (Jacobson and Kirk, 2009). In 1974, Daly, accompanied by another scientist Charles Myers, abducted a large number of frogs in Ecuador. In total, they abducted 54 frogs of the Epipedobates genus of the species anthonyi. Upon his return to his laboratory at the NIH, he injected the toxin into mice. These animals reacted in such a way as to lead Daly to hypothesize that it could be used as an analgesic; indeed, epibatidine is 200 times more powerful than morphine. Nonetheless, Daly exhausted his supply of frogs without being able to decipher the chemical structure of epibatidine, nor to explain why this toxin blocked the detection of painful stimuli. Therefore, between 1974 and 1979, he returned many times to Ecuador and abducted, in total, close to 3000 frogs. During these years, he made some progress in his scientific quest, but was unable to explain fully the analgesic power of epibatidine. For another 15 years (1979–1993), Daly invested a large amount of time and money into solving this mystery—an endeavour that involved abducting more frogs. Martin Garraffo, who was another biochemist at NIH and who worked with Daly, complained publicly that the international Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Flora and Fauna (CITES) ‘pretty much shut down any further collections of dendrobatid frogs even though many were not endangered’ (Garraffo et al., 2009: 210). Nonetheless, Daly and Garraffo continued to abduct frogs. In 1991, they had a breakthrough and Daly and his team were finally able to elucidate the structure of epibatidine. The discovery was popularized by the journalist David Bradley (1993), who wrote about it in the journal Science, which subsequently attracted scientists from the US multinational pharmaceutical Abbott Laboratories (‘Abbott’). Abbott scientists reckoned that epibatidine could be useful in their attempts to find a medicine for the treatment of Alzheimer’s. Although Abbott’s attempts to produce medication for the treatment of Alzheimer’s proved unsuccessful, the company was able to develop several 370 Theoretical Criminology 22(3) other patents from the elucidation of epibatidine. In addition, the NIH was granted a patent for epibatidine and derivates (Daly et al., 1993). Currently, epibatidine is studied in many pharmaceutical laboratories that try to develop new painkillers with fewer side effects (Jacobson and Kirk, 2009), and it has opened the door for new research on synthetic or analogue drugs. Animal bioprospecting The structural and pharmacological characterization of epibatidine and the subsequent creation of an analogue version is an example of bioprospecting. In this case, the NIH (via Daly) used dart frogs as a biological ‘resource’ to extract and elucidate epibatidine, which was later patented. According to proponents, there are a number of advantages to bioprospecting. First, humanity benefits from the new commodities produced (Isaac and Kerr, 2005). Second, valuable resources found in individual nonhuman animals and plants in nature are stored in archives, saving them from disappearing even if/when the species containing them becomes extinct (Eisner, 1990). Third, the possibility of being granted a patent and profiting from it motivates researchers and companies to innovate and produce commodities that will improve human well-being (Hayden, 2007). Fourth, the communities living in places of high biodiversity are more motivated to conserve their environments if they know that something valuable to scientists and researchers might be discovered there (Takeshita, 2001). The common denominator, here, is financial—even more so than the potential benefits that bioprospecting could bring for human well-being. The finding of epibatidine has been used as an example of the alleged benefits of bioprospecting processes—how scientists can and should seek to locate valuable ‘resources’ for humanity contained in the many species of flora and fauna in the world before those ‘resources’/species become extinct (Wilson, 2003). The possibilities afforded by bioprospecting have also been used to call on communities living in zones of high diversity to preserve various species (Jackson, 2002). These so-called ‘benefits’, however, are all anthropocentric in their orientation. A very different picture emerges when one contemplates bioprospecting from the ‘donors’’2 perspective. Bioprospecting or animal abuse? The promising future announced by those championing the benefits of bioprospecting, such as scientific progress, is not the whole story, nor the only perspective from which to tell it. Less attention has been paid to the fact that the hunt for such ‘natural resources’ can cause species to become extinct. Nonhuman animals and indigenous communities were the sine qua non of the discovery of epibatidine. Many allege that the promises made by bioprospecting were never fulfilled in this regard (Lavín, 2010/2011; MartinezAlier, 2002). On the issue of the enhancement of human well-being, Angerer (2016) has described how the use of Epipedobates (the genus of poison dart frogs native to northern South America) for research has not led to the development of any marketable product. Furthermore, the characterization of the pharmaceutical properties of epibatidine had already been achieved by Abbott scientists, who were conducting research on nicotinic Goyes and Sollund 371 acetylcholine receptors without the use of frogs (Angerer, 2016). It seems then that the use of nonhuman animals was an unnecessary step for the discovery of epibatidine. Similarly, much of the medicine produced from studies using vivisection has failed to prevent or cure the underlying conditions—or treat the symptoms—of the diseases and ailments for which they were intended (Goyes, 2015; Regan, 2007; Singer, 1995; Sollund, 2008). Akhtar (2015: 408) shows that nonhuman animal experimentation, conducted in order to develop medicines for humans, is harmful not only for the nonhuman animals involved, but also for the humans who receive medication that can have paradoxical effects, not the least due to species differences: ‘the collective harms that result from an unreliable practice tip the ethical scale of harms and benefits against continuation in much, if not all, of experimentation involving animals’. At the same time, the scientific research involving dart frogs has not resulted in the species’ protection. This Epipedobates genus exists only in the Andean countries—particularly in Colombia, Ecuador and Peru. While proponents of bioprospecting often claim that such processes create an incentive to protect ecosystems and species, this has not occurred in this case of the Epipedobates genus. Despite (or perhaps because of) the valuable active component found in them, the species Epipedobates anthonyi (Anthony’s poison arrow frog) is now listed by the International Union for Conservation of Nature as ‘near threatened’ (Coloma et al., 2010). The main threats to the species are pollution from agrochemicals and trafficking for medical purposes. Furthermore, the individuals of the Epipedobates genus have suffered during and after being abducted from their natural habitats. Indeed, the trafficking of this genus did not stop after Daly’s death in 2008; it continues to this day. For example, the young but experienced leader of an NGO that oversees a Colombian natural park explained in one of our interviews the process through which frogs are abducted: ‘Do you remember the old film canisters? The traffickers use these canisters, fill them with humid cotton, and put the frog in. There frogs can survive up to three days.’ Furthermore, Daly and colleagues were accused of violating the sovereignty of both Ecuador and the local communities. Scientists abducted the frogs without permission from either the local communities or from the national government. This was a violation of CITES, which, at the time, listed the Epipedobates genus in Appendix II3 (Martinez-Alier, 2002). In sum, this case poses interesting questions regarding the place of bioprospecting in the field of animal abuse studies. On one hand, the discovery of epibatidine may have rendered important fruits for human health. Whereas the characterization of epibatidine was achieved independently by scientists who did not use frogs, Daly’s basic research did facilitate the development of a new line of research on nicotinic analgesics (Angerer, 2016). On the other hand, many animals were trafficked and/or abused in the process of research. Moreover, it has been the multinational pharmaceutical companies that have benefited economically from this process, not the countries of the global South that are home to the Epipedobates genus (Ten Kate and Laird, 1999). This means that research on the active compounds of animals can possibly benefit human (and nonhuman animal) health by producing knowledge applicable in treating diverse ailments suffered by both humans and nonhumans, but the same research can produce unfair and harmful effects, especially from a species justice point of view. In the end, might it be more accurate to refer to such practices as biopiracy, rather than bioprospecting? 372 Theoretical Criminology 22(3) Bioprospecting or biopiracy? As alluded to above, over the past 25 years, a debate has taken place regarding bioprospecting processes and whether biopiracy might serve as a better term. Both the narrative of bioprospecting and that of biopiracy refer to the same acts of searching for valuable biological resources to transform them into commodities via the use of biotechnology, but the normative evaluation of those acts is radically different. Biopiracy is intended to denote the immoral appropriation of biological resources committed by organized groups, such as agrochemical and pharmaceutical multinational corporations (South, 2007). The bioprospecting narrative replaces the pejorative concept of piracy with the more laudable term, prospecting, thereby helping to encourage scientists to discover and study new active compounds in the wilderness.4 What biopiracy sees as theft, bioprospecting sees as progress. The debate over bioprospecting and biopiracy has not been limited to nonhuman animals. Agricultural and pharmaceutical companies have also engaged in such practices with seeds. The temptation, then, might be to try to settle the bioprospecting-biopiracy debate by considering the pros and cons of such biotechnological processes as they relate to both flora and fauna. As we intend to argue, however, seed bioprospecting should remain distinct from that of nonhuman animal bioprospecting. Collecting seeds and abducting and trafficking nonhuman animals are different in practical and moral terms. The legislation that applies is different insofar as there are more international treaties that deal with plant bioprospecting compared to those that deal with or include the issue of animal bioprospecting. (For examples of the larger legislative development in the field of plant bioprospecting, see, for example, the 1961, 1972, 1978 and 1991 Conventions for the Protection of New Varieties of Plants, and the 2001 International Treaty on Plant Generic Resources for Food and Agriculture.) Social norms also vary significantly depending on the ‘resource’ in question. Practices in the lab are different in that one does not ‘transform’ an animal in the same way that one would transform a seed. These differences lead to different markets: farmers use the seeds to produce foods; some groups of humans are offered the medicines produced from research conducted on nonhuman animals. Nonetheless, it is the issues of sentience—and harm constituted by suffering, pain and fear—that we consider mark the most significant distinctions between animal-based bioprospecting and plant-based bioprospecting. Essentially, when considering the advantages and disadvantages of animal bioprospecting, one cannot limit one’s analysis to anthropocentric arguments. Most commentators and experts focus solely on the losses for humans or human societies when animals are abducted for use in laboratories, rather than recognizing the harms to the animals themselves and their ecosystems. For example, because abducting Epipedobate frogs without the official permits is illegal under CITES and Colombian penal law, Colombian governmental representatives have condemned these acts as morally reproachable because foreigners take the nation’s natural ‘resources’ without permission or compensation, meaning that the country does not benefit from discoveries stemming from the use of ‘its’ frogs in experiments. This line of accusation considers only the negative consequences of these acts for human communities, ignoring the impacts on individual frogs, the genus as a whole and the ecosystems in which the frogs reside. 373 Goyes and Sollund There is no mention of the fear, pain, stress and loss of a future for the frog victims. Several of our interviewees supported this limited reasoning. One interviewee suggested that if the trafficking of Epipedobate frogs is not thwarted, a situation could arise akin to the one 40 years ago when many macaws were removed from Colombia, leaving many species in danger of extinction. As another one of our interviewees observed, In the future, we will see with sadness that we did not look in time for ways of detecting how these serums, those proteins and those molecules, were taken out. We will simply have to follow a road of dependence through which we can only get access to these molecules through pharmaceutical industries in ways that will cost us many dollars. (Ortiz von-Halle, TRAFFIC) In the next section, we explore further the complexities involved in the study of animal bioprospecting. This will better enable us to develop a moral evaluation of the issue and the philosophical underpinnings for why the same process may be defined as bioprospecting or biopiracy. In so doing, we aim to position animal bioprospecting/biopiracy in the field of green criminology and animal abuse studies. Two major philosophical approaches to nature One way to point out the complexities of an issue is by referring to its philosophical substrata, by which we mean the sense of an issue viewed in relation to the wider universe of phenomena (Botero Uribe, 2002): what we consider the meaning of life, whether there is a (morally) right way to live and behave, and what the role of humans is in the universe. We appeal here to an analysis of the philosophical substrata guiding both the practices of animal bioprospecting and the discourses criticizing them, for two main reasons. First, an exploration of philosophical substrata deals with fundamental principles, which are basic assertions that may not be verified or falsified completely, but are based on religious or philosophical beliefs. Their unveiling and exposition allows us to show why criminological explorations of animal bioprospecting practices are unavoidably informed by epistemological and moral unknowns. Therefore, criminological studies of animal bioprospecting must acknowledge the potential deep complexity of these practices. The second reason why we explore these philosophical substrata is that philosophical directions have a bearing on the discourse/language chosen to describe nature and the processes by which nature is used or abused/exploited by humans in order to advance anthropocentric interests, such as human well-being or capitalist interests. These directions thus shape the ways in which we, as humans, regard such processes depending on which we adopt. We argue that there are two major philosophical approaches to nature: gestalt and atomist philosophies. Identifying the points of conflict between these two philosophical approaches is a good way of highlighting also the complexity of how one may view the biotechnological (ab)uses of animals. The atomist philosophies represent and are reflected in the bioprospecting discourse, while gestalt philosophies would represent and be reflected in the biopiracy discourse. 5 374 Theoretical Criminology 22(3) Table 1. Two major philosophical approaches to nature. Gestalt philosophies Atomist philosophies Ontological principle Epistemological derivation Methodological derivation Ethical derivation Interdependence Chaos Limited power Respect for all components of the total ecosystem Policy application Structural reform of the mode of production (never applied in reality) Animal rights Possibility to isolate Predictability and order Possibility to control Construction of hierarchies according to humans’ capacity to manipulate Clean technology Examples of practices and instruments Green criminological justice orientations Ecological justice, species justice CITES, bioprospecting, monocultures Environmental justice Atomist and gestalt philosophies Arguably, atomist philosophies inform most international instruments that deal with environmental issues, such as CITES, the Convention of Biological Diversity (CBD) or the Paris climate agreement. Most counter-views of nature have a common philosophical grounding: they are gestalt ecophilosophies. By counter-view, we mean the environmental philosophy that guides social movements that oppose atomist relations with nature. Atomist and gestalt philosophies are thus competing perspectives. Atomist philosophies regard nature as a series of independent but interconnected pieces. They are most clearly represented in the positivist and neo-positivists ways of thinking (see, for example, Guba and Lincoln, 2005). Gestalt philosophies, on the other hand, argue that nature is constituted by ‘dynamically integrated wholes’ (Wertheimer, 2010: 50), where the whole is fundamentally different from the sum of the parts. The revision of the fundamental elements of both dominating and countering views of nature, such as ontology, epistemology, methodology and ethics, illustrates the fundamental differences of these two perspectives (see Table 1). In the gestalt philosophies, the world is viewed in terms of relationships, as opposed to the atomist view that focuses on individuals. To illustrate the atomist and gestalt philosophies, we describe one social movement and one policy orientation that embrace the logics of gestalt and atomist philosophies, and which are directly relevant for the present issue. These movements are the ‘long-range deep ecology movement’ (Næss, 2008), and the ecological ‘goods and services’ policy direction. Deep ecology One of the best-known examples of gestalt philosophies is the ‘long-range deep ecology movement’. ‘Deep ecology’, as it is known, aims to curb the human self-destructive practice of exploiting nonhuman animals and the overall degradation of life conditions. A Goyes and Sollund 375 gestalt perspective implies acknowledging the importance of all the beings involved in relationships, regardless of whether they are human, and deep ecology is based on the premise that all living beings have intrinsic value, independently of how useful they are for humans (Næss, 2000). Both the assumption of a gestalt view and the recognition of the intrinsic value of all beings are fundamental principles of deep ecology. Derived from these fundamental principles are eight premises that constitute the platform of deep ecology: (1) that all life forms and their flourishing have intrinsic value; (2) that the richness and diversity of life forms is intrinsically valuable; (3) that humans can only reduce richness of life forms to satisfy vital needs; (4) that human life—not its diversity—must decrease to secure the flourishing of nonhuman life; (5) that humans are interfering excessively with the nonhuman world; (6) that to secure the flourishing of life, changes in the economic, technological and ideological aspects of human societies are necessary; (7) that quality of life must be appreciated over (material) life standards; and (8) that followers of the movement must act to change current circumstances (Næss, 2008). The application of these principles seeks important changes in terms of practices of production and consumption, which can be facilitated by transformations in the economic, social, technological, political and lifestyle spheres. The use of the word ‘deep’ is intended to reflect the depth in argumentation, and the depth in the requested reforms. Current practices of animal bioprospecting would be rejected wholeheartedly by deep ecology, as they would be considered disrespectful of the intrinsic value of nonhuman animals, an unwarranted intervention in the nonhuman world and unnecessary for human survival. Due to the deep economic reforms it demands, this movement may clash with the movements championing social or environmental justice (see, for example, Davies, 2014). Similarly, there have been clashes between the environmental justice and animal rights movements, mainly with respect to the species they prioritize (Svärd, 2008), although common ground may be found in that both broadly view threats to ecological sustainability as threats to all life forms (see, for example, Pellow, 2013). Whereas deep ecology recognizes the importance of environmental justice, it does not necessarily accept the ultimate goals and actions of other movements trying to improve the environmental state of affairs. Movements like the environmental justice movement (for a description, see White, 2013) are thus often referred to as reflecting a ‘shallow ecology’ because they do not base their positions or actions on fundamental premises concerning the intrinsic value of nonhuman species; they act primarily for the protection of the rights of the humans. Ecological services ‘Ecosystem services’ is a policy orientation and an example of an atomist approach aimed at calculating in economic values what natural beings, such as bees and other insects, produce. Nature and its beings are regarded purely in economic and instrumental terms (Daly, 2012; Halsey and White, 1998; Humphreys, 2017; Vetlesen, 2016). Ecological services start from a neo-positivist logic that considers that humans have the capacity to identify the laws that govern natural phenomena (using observation and reason). Consequently, this view regards it as possible to manage future happenings, and to isolate the diverse ‘cogs’ in the natural ‘machinery’. This point of view seeks to build 376 Theoretical Criminology 22(3) general theories via the identification of regularities. The goal of finding direct causes is what makes this perspective consider reality as a sum of atoms, which are simple and immutable. This view would thus consider animal bioprospecting to be a practice that, by using the scientific laws provided by biotechnology, is capable of isolating valuable components from their nonhuman animal ‘carriers’ in order to produce valuable commodities that could benefit humans (Goyes, 2017: 199). The justice stances in green criminology in relation to the two major approaches to nature The main philosophical approaches used in green criminology could be subsumed in these two philosophical stances. Environmental justice reflects an anthropocentric perspective, which privileges humans over all other species and registers concern about the exploitation and degradation of the environment and other species when it disproportionately affects human communities (Halsey and White, 1998; White, 2013). It is an atomist philosophy insofar as humans are treated as separate from the other beings in nature, and can live by means of it, rather than with it. Ecological justice reflects an ecocentric perspective—both of which are examples of gestalt philosophy insofar as their concern is for ecosystems and the integrity of nonhuman entities; ecological well-being is important, and humans should be guardians and protectors of other species (Halsey and White, 1998; White, 2013). From a biocentric point of view, all species have intrinsic value and are equal in their moral import (Taylor in Vetlesen, 2016). Species justice, which acknowledges the rights of nonhuman animals (and plants) not to be subjected to harm, and eco-justice, in which the main focus is on ‘the environment’ as such and the conservation and protection of ecological well-being (White, 2013) are, in principle, derivations of gestalt philosophy. Biotechnology, piracy and nonhuman animal harm Under gestalt philosophy, there is no definitive answer to the question of whether we can foresee and control completely the impact and results of our interactions with nature and nonhuman beings. This insecurity permeates the field of biotechnology, and informs with uncertainty, generalized evaluations of biotechnological uses of animals. Processes of biotechnological intervention in nature are complex and differently developed in diverse locations. Biotechnology may contribute to human well-being via a set of inventions. At the same time, it can produce harm to ecosystems and nonhuman species. More precisely, animal bioprospecting becomes animal biopiracy when scientists abduct individual animals from their habitats, subject them to harmful and deadly procedures for human benefit and appropriate the animal or parts of him/her. Indeed, it is doubtful whether the more positive term, bioprospecting, can be justified at all when it involves nonhuman animals, rather than plants. One can examine the practices developed within biotechnology to identify whether they disrespect the intrinsic value of individuals by using the points of conflict between the two main philosophical approaches to nature. Biopiracy represents a ‘technologification’ and ‘scientification’ of nonhuman beings, by which all that Goyes and Sollund 377 constitutes life is disregarded and disrespected. This includes interests in living and avoiding death, the capacity of feeling fear, pleasure and happiness, as well as relating to other beings—in Benton’s (1998; cf. Regan, 1983) paraphrasing of Kant, the capacity to make choices, personal autonomy and the ability to act purposively. From this point of view, nonhuman animals and their bodies cannot be commoditized in any justified way, which is why many scholars argue for animal abolitionism (e.g. Francione, 2009, 2014; Linzey, 2013). Some would still argue that no matter how one decides to position oneself concerning criminological studies of the acts encompassed by biotechnological use of nonhuman animals, one should assess each case specifically and individually on the grounds that their complexity, and the diversity of practices developed, calls for caution against making generalized moral evaluations. For example, if the atomist stance were to be proven true (at least in some cases), then biotechnology could potentially manage to develop products for human well-being without abusing animals. From a utilitarian point of view (Singer, 1995), one could also maintain that the ‘bads’ done to the animals are compensated by the ‘goods’ obtained: when medicines for humans (or nonhumans) are developed successfully from nonhuman animals, frogs or others, then the advantages may outweigh the disadvantages (Benton, 1998: 153). From a gestalt (both ecocentric and biocentric) philosophy, such utilitarian arguments fail because they neglect the intrinsic value of the animals in question (in this case, frogs). When biotechnological use of nonhuman animals causes them harm, then as beings with intrinsic value, they should have protection from being used as ‘means to an end’ because they are means in and for themselves, just as humans (Benton, 1998; Francione, 2009, 2014; Linzey, 2013; Regan, 1986). Conclusion While undoubtedly the measures by which the desired chemical compounds are extracted from Epipedobates frogs are technologically advanced, trafficking nonhuman animals for medicinal purposes is, in a sense, a primitive, long-established practice—both practically, as well as philosophically. As we have described in this article, there has not been consensus as to whether the exploitation of frogs has been necessary to develop epibatidine. By regarding the frogs instrumentally—as ‘atoms’ rather than as complex entities with intrinsic value—an anthropocentrically organized status quo view of the world in the name of science is maintained. Rather than being seduced by the ideas behind the bioprospecting rhetoric, one needs to ask: who stands to lose? Who stands to gain? How can such gain or loss be morally defended? (White, 2018). The danger remains that because it is humans who assess who are the worthiest victims and whose interests should count, and thus who may be sacrificed for the benefit of the others, nonhuman animals will again fall victims to speciesist evaluations. Biopiracy has scary implications and the way this is conducted against nonhuman animals makes it a field that should not be neglected by green criminologists with an interest in human–nonhuman animal relations and animal abuse. Doing so will reveal much about how we as humans perceive the world and our role and responsibility within it. 378 Theoretical Criminology 22(3) Acknowledgements We are grateful to Avi Brisman, Nigel South and two anonymous referees for help with this article. Funding The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article. Notes 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. We conducted interviews with experts in governmental and nongovernmental organizations for Sollund’s larger project entitled Wildlife Trafficking in Norway, Colombia and Brazil. In Colombia, 15 interviews took place: 13 by Goyes and two by Sollund; in Brazil, four (by Goyes); and in Norway, 17 interviews were conducted by Sollund and 126 confiscations reports from customs and ca 800 penal case files and verdicts have been accumulated (Sollund, 2013a, 2015, 2017a, forthcoming). All interview quotations used in this article have been translated into English from Spanish by the authors. Interviewees who wanted to be anonymized are not named, while those who wanted to be credited are named. The project has been reported to, and approved by, Norwegian Social Science Data services (NSD). This project was also part of the EFFACE project: European Union Action to Fight Environmental Crime (http://efface.eu/). An anthology was produced based on the case studies of the project: Fighting Environmental Crime in Europe and Beyond, edited by Sollund, Stefes and Germani (2016). The word ‘donor’ is derived from the Latin verb, donare, which means ‘to give’. To be a donor implies some degree of voluntariness. The frogs, however, were not asked, and they could not have conveyed their lack of consent for use of their bodies in this way. Appendix II lists species that are not necessarily now threatened with extinction but that may become so unless trade is closely controlled (see https://www.cites.org/eng/app/index.php). Biologically active compounds are substances, such as enzymes, hormones or vitamins, which cause changes in a tissue or an organ. The science of pharmacology has been in constant search for new biologically active compounds (Szajdak, 2016). It bears mention, however, that the biopiracy discourse so far has been primarily anthropocentric, concentrating on harms generated by such practices to humans. Therefore, this discourse does not represent fully gestalt philosophies because it fails to acknowledge the intrinsic value of other species. For simplicity’s sake, they are juxtaposed herein. ORCID iD David Rodríguez Goyes https://orcid.org/0000-0003-4287-8631 References Adams CJ (1996) Caring about suffering: A feminist exploration. In: Donovan J and Adams CJ (eds) Beyond Animal Rights: A Feminist Caring Ethic for the Treatment of Animals. New York: Continuum, 147–169. Agnew R (1998) The causes of animal abuse: A social-psychological analysis. Theoretical Criminology 2(2): 177–1209. Akhtar A (2015) The flaws and human harms of animal experimentation. Cambridge Quarterly of Healthcare Ethics 24(4): 407–419. Goyes and Sollund 379 Alves RRN (2012) Relationships between fauna and people and the role of ethnozoology in animal conservation. Ethnobiology and Conservation 1(2): 1–69. Angerer K (2016) ‘There is a frog in South America/Whose venom is a cure’: Poison alkaloids and drug discovery. In: Von Schwerin A, Stoff H and Wahrig B (eds) Biologics, A History of Agents Made from Living Organisms in the Twentieth Century. New York: Routledge. Beirne P (1999) For a nonspeciesist criminology: Animal abuse as an object of study. Criminology 37(1): 117–148. Beirne P (2009) Confronting Animal Abuse: Law, Criminology, and Human–Animal Relationships. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Benton T (1998) Rights and justice on a shared planet: More rights or new relations? Theoretical Criminology 2(2): 149–175. Berger J (2009) Why Look at Animals? London: Penguin. Bishop LM and Nolen AL (2001) Animals in research and education: Ethical issues. Kennedy Institute of Ethics Journal 11(1): 91–112. Botero Uribe D (2002) Vitalismo Cósmico. Bogotá: Siglo del Hombre Editores. Boyd JL, Skove SL, Rouanet JP, et al. (2015) Human–chimpanzee differences in a FZD8 enhancer alter cell-cycle dynamics in the developing neocortex. Current Biology 25(6): 772–779. Bradley D (1993) Frog venom cocktail yields a one-handed painkiller. Science 261(5125): 1117. Brisman A and South N (2014) Green Cultural Criminology: Constructions of Environmental Harm, Consumerism, and Resistance to Ecocide. Abingdon: Routledge. Cazaux G (1999) Beauty and the beast: Animal abuse from a non-speciesist criminological perspective. Crime, Law and Social Change 31(2): 105–125. Coloma LA, Ron S and Lötters S, et al. (2010) Epipedobates anthonyi. Available at: http://www. iucnredlist.org/details/55213/0 (accessed 14 November 2017). Cudworth E (2017) Breeding and rearing farm animals. In: Maher J, Pierpoint H and Beirne P (eds) The Palgrave International Handbook of Animal Abuse Studies. London: Palgrave, 159–179. Daly E (2012) The Ecuadorian exemplar: The first ever vindications of constitutional rights of nature. Review of European, Comparative & International Environmental Law 21(1): 63–66. Daly JW, Spande TF and Garraffo HM (1993) Epibatidine and derivatives, compositions and methods of treating pain. Google Patents. Davies PA (2014) Green crime and victimization: Tensions between social and environmental justice. Theoretical Criminology 18(3): 300–316. Eisner T (1990) Prospecting for nature’s chemical riches. Chemoecology 1(1): 38–40. Ellefsen R (2016) Judicial opportunities and the death of SHAC: Legal repression along a cycle of contention. Social Movement Studies 15(5): 441–456. Fitzgerald AJ (2010) The ‘underdog’ as ‘ideal victim’? The attribution of victimhood in the 2007 pet food recall. International Review of Victimology 17(2): 131–157. Foucault M (1991) La verdad y las formas jurídicas. Barcelona: Gedisa. Francione GL (2009) Animals as Persons: Essays on the Abolition of Animal Exploitation. New York: Columbia University Press. Francione GL (2014) Animal welfare and the moral value of nonhuman animals. In: Cederholm EA, Björck A, Jennbert K, et al. (eds) Exploring the Animal Turn. Lund: Lund University, 57–73. Gålmark L (2008) Aristotle revisited: Anthro-androcentrism and meat normativity. In: Sollund R (ed.) Global Harms: Ecological Crime and Speciesism. New York: Nova Science Publishers, 87–108. Garraffo HM, Spande TF and Williams M (2009) Epibatidine: From frog alkaloid to analgesic clinical candidates. A testimonial to ‘True Grit’! Heterocycles 79(1): 207–217. 380 Theoretical Criminology 22(3) Germain PL, Chiapperino L and Testa G (2017) The European politics of animal experimentation: From Victorian Britain to ‘Stop Vivisection’. Studies in History and Philosophy of Science Part C: Studies in History and Philosophy of Biological and Biomedical Sciences 64: 75–87. Goyes DR (2013) Introducción general, las determinantes como fenómenos sociales a considerar en la construcción de políticas públicas para la bioprospección en Colombia [General introduction, determinants as social phenomena to take into consideration when constructing public policy for bioprospecting in Colombia]. In: Melgarejo LM and Toro Pérez C (eds) Determinantes científicas, económicas y socio-ambientales de la bioprospección en Colombia. Bogotá: Universidad Nacional de Colombia, 19–42. Goyes DR (2015) Denying the harms of animal abductions for biomedical research. In: Sollund R (ed.) Green Harms and Crimes: Critical Criminology in a Changing World. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 170–188. Goyes DR (2017) Biopiracy from a green criminological perspective. PhD Thesis, University of Oslo, Norway. Goyes DR and Sollund R (2016) Contesting and contextualising CITES: Wildlife trafficking in Colombia and Brazil. International Journal for Crime, Justice and Social Democracy 5(4): 87–102. Guba EG and Lincoln YS (2005) Paradigmatic controversies, contradictions, and emerging confluences. In: Denzin NK and LincolnYS (eds) The SAGE Handbook of Qualitative Research. Los Angeles, CA: SAGE, 191–215. Halsey M and White R (1998) Crime, ecophilosophy and environmental harm. Theoretical Criminology 2(3): 345–371. Hayden C (2007) Taking as giving: Bioscience, exchange, and the politics of benefit sharing. Social Studies of Science 37(5): 729–758. Humphreys D (2017) Rights of Pachamama: The emergence of an earth jurisprudence in the Americas. Journal of International Relations and Development 20(3): 459–484. Isaac GE and Kerr WA (2005) Bioprospecting or biopiracy? Intellectual property and traditional knowledge in biotechnology innovation. Journal of World Intellectual Property 7(1): 35–52. Jackson R (2002) The Earth Remains Forever: Generations at a Crossroad. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Jacobson KA and Kirk KL (2009) John W. Daly: An appreciation. Heterocycles 79(1): 61–71. Klymiuk N, Aigner B, Brem G, et al. (2010) Genetic modification of pigs as organ donors for xenotransplantation. Molecular Reproduction and Development 77(3): 209–221. Lawson C (2017) Animal fighting. In: Maher J, Pierpoint H and Beirne P (eds) The Palgrave International Handbook of Animal Abuse Studies. London: Palgrave, 337–362. Lavín RRA (2010/2011) La biopiratería de los recursos de la medicina indígena tradicional en el Estado de Chiapas, México. El caso ICBG-Maya [Biopiracy of the resources of the traditional indigenous medicine in the State of Chiapas, Mexico. The ICBG-Maya case]. Revista Pueblos y Fronteras Digital 6(10): 151–180. Lemieux AM (2014) Situational Prevention of Poaching. London: Routledge. Linzey A (2013) Genetic engineering is animal slavery. In: Sherlock R and Morrey JD (eds) (2002) Ethical Issues in Biotechnology. Oxford: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 325–340. Lovitz D (2010) Muzzling a Movement: The Effects of Anti-Terrorism Law, Money and Politics on Animal Activism. New York: Lantern Books. Maher J and Sollund R (2016a) Law enforcement of the wildlife trafficking: A comparative strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats analysis of the UK and Norway. Journal of Trafficking, Organized Crime and Security 2(1): 82–99. Maher J and Sollund R (2016b) Wildlife trafficking: Harms and victimization. In: Sollund R, Stefes C and Germani AR (eds) Fighting Environmental Crime in Europe and Beyond. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan UK, 99–128. Goyes and Sollund 381 Maher J and Wyatt T (2017) International trade in animals and animal parts. In: Maher J, Pierpoint H and Beirne P (eds) The Palgrave International Handbook of Animal Abuse Studies. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 223–247. Maher J, Pierpoint H and Beirne P (eds) (2017) The Palgrave International Handbook of Animal Abuse Studies. London: Palgrave. Maldonado AR and Lafon T (2017) Biomedical research vs biodiversity conservation in the Colombian-Peruvian Amazon: Searching for law enforcement where there is lack of accountability. In: Goyes D, Mol H, Brisman A, et al. (eds) Environmental Crime in Latin America: The Theft of Nature and the Poisoning of the Land. London: Palgrave, 261–294. Maldonado AM, Nijman V and Bearder SK (2009) Trade in night monkeys Aotus spp. in the Brazil–Colombia–Peru tri-border area: International wildlife trade regulations are ineffectively enforced. Endangered Species Research 9(2): 143–149. Martinez-Alier J (2002) The Environmentalism of the Poor: A Study of Ecological Conflicts and Valuation. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. Menache A (2017) Animals in scientific research. In: Maher J, Pierpoint H and Beirne P (eds) The Palgrave International Handbook of Animal Abuse Studies. London: Palgrave, 389–413. Miller-Spiegel (2011) Primates by the numbers: The use and importation of nonhuman primates for research and testing in the United States. American Anti Vivisection Society. Available at: http://aavs.org/cms/assets/uploads/2014/08/aavs_report_primates-by-numbers.pdf?x82509 (accessed 1 December 2017). Næss A (2000) Livsfilosofi. Et personlig bidrag om følelser og fornuft. Oslo: Oslo Universitetsforlaget. Næss A (2008) Ecology of Wisdom. St Ives: Penguin Books. Ngoc AC and Wyatt T (2013) A green criminological exploration of illegal wildlife trade in Vietnam. Asian Journal of Criminology 8(2): 129–142. Nurse A (2015) Animal Harm: Perspectives on Why People Harm and Kill Animals. Farnham: Ashgate. Pellow DN (2013) Environmental justice, animal rights, and total liberation: From conflict and distance to points of common focus. In: South N and Brisman A (eds) Routledge International Handbook of Green Criminology. Abingdon: Routledge, 331–346. Pires S and Clarke RV (2012) Are parrots CRAVED? An analysis of parrot poaching in Mexico. Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency 49(1): 122–146. Pires SF and Moreto WD (2011) Preventing wildlife crimes: Solutions that can overcome the ‘Tragedy of the Commons’. European Journal on Criminal Policy and Research 17(2): 101–123. Regan T (1983) The Case for Animal Rights. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Regan T (1986) A case for animal rights. In: Fox MW and Mickley LD (eds) Advances in Animal Welfare Science 1986/87. Washington, DC: The Humane Society of the United States, 179–189. Regan T (2007) Vivisection: The case for abolition. In: Beirne P and South N (eds) Issues in Green Criminology: Confronting Harms against Environments, Humanity and other Animals. Cullompton: Willan, 114–139. Regan T (2012) Empty Cages: Animal rights and vivisection. In: Garrett JR (ed.) The Ethics of Animal Research: Exploring the Controversy. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 107–124. Schuh JC (2004) Trials, tribulations, and trends in tumor modeling in mice. Toxicologic Pathology 32(1 suppl.): 53–66. Sherlock R and Morrey JD (eds) (2002) Ethical Issues in Biotechnology. Oxford: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Singer P (1995) Animal Liberation. New York: Random House. Soberón Mainero FX (2003) La ingeniería genética, la nueva biotecnología y la era genómica. México DF: Fondo de Cultura Económica. 382 Theoretical Criminology 22(3) Sollund R (2008) Causes for speciesism: Difference, distance and denial. In: Sollund R (ed.) Global Harms: Ecological Crime and Speciesism. New York: Nova Science Publishers. Sollund R (2011) Expressions of speciesism: The effects of keeping companion animals on animal abuse, animal trafficking and species decline. Crime, Law and Social Change 55(5): 437–451. Sollund R (2012) Speciesism as doxic practice versus valuing difference and plurality. In: Ellefsen R, Sollund R and Larsen G (eds) Eco-Global Crimes: Contemporary Problems and Future Challenges. Farnham: Ashgate, 91–115. Sollund R (2013a) Animal abuse, animal rights and species justice. American Society of Criminology 69th Annual Meeting, Atlanta, November. Sollund R (2013b) Animal trafficking and trade: Abuse and species injustice. In: Walters R, Westerhuis D and Wyatt T (eds) Emerging Issues in Green Criminology. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan UK, 72–92. Sollund R (2015) Introduction: Critical green criminology-an agenda for change. In: Sollund R (ed) Green Harms and Crimes: Critical Criminology in a Changing World. London: Ashgate, pp.1-26. Sollund R (2017a) The animal other: Legal and illegal theriocide. In: Hall M, Maher J, Nurse A, et al. (eds) Greening Criminology in the 21st Century: Contemporary Debates and Future Directions in the Study of Environmental Harm. Abingdon: Routledge, 79–100. Sollund R (2017b) Legal and illegal theriocide of trafficked animals. In: Maher J, Pierpoint H and Beirne P (eds) The Palgrave International Handbook of Animal Abuse Studies. London: Palgrave, 453–475. Sollund R (2017c) The use and abuse of animals in wildlife trafficking in Colombia: Practices and injustice. In: Goyes D, Mol H, South N, et al. (eds) Environmental Crime in Latin America. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 215–243. Sollund R (2017d) Doing green, critical criminology with an auto-ethnographic, feminist approach. Critical Criminology 25(2): 245–260. Sollund R (forthcoming, 2018) The Crimes of Wildlife Trafficking: Legally Right or Wrong— Morally Unjust. Sollund R and Maher J (2015) The illegal wildlife trade: A case study report on the illegal wildlife trade in the United Kingdom, Norway, Colombia and Brazil. Study in the Framework of the EFFACE Research Project. Oslo and Wales: University of Oslo and University of South Wales. Sollund R, Stefes C and Germani AR (eds) (2016) Fighting Environmental Crime in Europe and Beyond. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan UK. South N (1998) A green field for criminology? A proposal for a perspective. Theoretical Criminology 2(2): 211–233. South N (2007) The ‘corporate colonisation of nature’: Bio-prospecting, bio-piracy and the development of green criminology. In: Beirne P and South N (eds) Issues in Green Criminology: Confronting Harms against Environments, Humanity and other Animals. Cullompton: Willan, 230–247. Svärd PA (2008) Protecting the animals? An abolitionist approach critique of animal welfarism and green ideology. In: Sollund R (ed.) Global Harms: Ecological Crime and Speciesism. New York: Nova Science Publishers, 167–186. Szajdak LW (2016) Introduction: Biologically active compounds. In: Szajdak LW (ed.) Bioactive Compounds in Agricultural Soils. Cham: Springer International Publishing, 1–22. Takeshita C (2001) Bioprospecting and its discontents: Indigenous resistances as legitimate politics. Alternatives 26: 259–282. Ten Kate K and Laird SA (1999) The Commercial Use of Biodiversity: Access to Genetic Resources and Benefit-Sharing. London: Earthscan. Goyes and Sollund 383 Truong VD, Dang NV and Hall CM (2016) The marketplace management of illegal elixirs: Illicit consumption of rhino horn. Consumption Markets & Culture 19(4): 353–369. Twine R (2015) Animals as Biotechnology: Ethics, Sustainability and Critical Animal Studies. New York: Earthscan. Van Uhm DP (2016) Uncovering the illegal wildlife trade: Inside the world of poachers, smugglers and traders. PhD Thesis, University of Utrecht, The Netherlands. Vetlesen AJ (2016) The Denial of Nature: Environmental Philosophy in the Era of Global Capitalism. London: Routledge. Wertheimer M (2010) A gestalt perspective on the psychology of thinking. In: Glatzeder BM, Goel V and Von Müller A (eds) Towards a Theory of Thinking. New York: Springer, 49–58. White R (2008) Crimes against Nature: Environmental Criminology and Ecological Justice. Devon: Willan. White R (2013) Environmental Harm. Bristol: Policy Press. White R (2018) Green victimology and non-human victims. International Review of Victimology 24(2): 239–255. Wilson EO (2003) The Future of Life. New York: Vintage Books. Wyatt T (2013) The local context of transnational wildlife trafficking: The Heathrow animal reception centre. In: Walters R, Westerhuis D and Wyatt T (eds) Emerging Issues in Green Criminology. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 108–123. Wyatt T (2014) Non-human animal abuse and wildlife trade: Harm in the fur and falcon trades. Society & Animals 22(2): 194–210. Young K (2017) Animal racing: Shifting codes of Canadian tolerance. In: Maher J, Pierpoint H and Beirne P (eds) The Palgrave International Handbook of Animal Abuse Studies. London: Palgrave, 271–289. Author biographies David Rodríguez Goyes is an assistant professor at the Antonio Nariño University, Colombia. He holds a PhD in Criminology from the University of Oslo, Norway. He is a lawyer by training, with postgraduate studies in criminal law, and a master in sociology. His main field of research is green criminology, where he has mainly focused on the issue of biopiracy. His largest contribution to the field is in the development of a southern green criminology. Ragnhild Aslaug Sollund is a professor in criminology at the University of Oslo, Department of Criminology and Sociology of Law. During the past 10 years she has published widely within green criminology, particularly studies concerning wildlife trafficking, illegal hunting and animal abuse, e.g. Green Harms and Crimes: Critical Criminology in a Changing World (Palgrave, 2015), and The Crimes of Wildlife Trafficking: Issues of Justice, Legality and Morality (forthcoming 2018, Routledge). Between 2012 and 2016, Sollund was partner in the EC funded research project EFFACE: European Union Action to Fight Environmental Crime (https://efface.eu/).