STEF SMITH is a multi-award-winning contemporary Scottish playwright known for her socially engaged plays, which address political and ethical tensions in modern society. Her 2016 play Human Animals portrays a dystopian vision of a city where reports of animal infestation spread, leading to the killing of animals believed to be infectious. At first, pigeons and foxes are targeted and killed (after all, ‘No one likes foxes anyway’),Footnote ¹ but gradually the violence spreads to all quadrupeds, including pets, and the parts of nature that provide shelter for these animals. Using a fragmented and non-linear structure, the play follows a group of characters with closely interconnected lives, depicting their varying attitudes towards an escalating mass hysteria being directed at animals and the natural world. Set in a not-so-distant future urban environment, it speculates about a looming future in a real world shaped by ecological and ethical crises, ultimately questioning humanity’s capacity for compassion and its destructive relationship with nature. As one of relatively few plays to have centred on non-human animals, Stef Smith’s Human Animals occupies a distinctive position, and supplies a meaningful contribution to current discussions surrounding the non-human. I began our conversation by asking her about the play’s origins.

Tuğba Aygan You are renowned for addressing a variety of bold and socially relevant topics, ranging from technology and gender to trauma, and for giving voice and visibility to women and other marginalized groups. Your play Human Animals explores another marginalized group, namely non-human animals. What inspired you to write this play and include non-human animals?

Stef Smith I think my love and respect for non-human animals was instilled by my parents, who have always had a fondness for animals and wildlife. I also grew up somewhere quite rural and so almost daily encountered wild animals – deer, sheep, mice, and of course our beloved pets. I had become a vegetarian at the age of fifteen as I could no longer reconcile myself with the hypocrisy of being a meat eater and an animal lover. This was also when I learned about the concept of speciesism, a misguided belief that asserts superiority of one species in order to justify the unjust treatment of other species. Over a decade later, I finally moved my own personal interest in speciesism into my professional life by writing Human Animals.

Could you elaborate on the meaning behind the title Human Animals? Is it a critique, a reflection, or simply an observation of human nature?

It was always very clear to me that this should be the title of the play. It felt like it captured the big idea behind the play, along with a sense of its tone. Playful. Prying. Pointed.

In their reviews of the Royal Court premiere of Human Animals, theatre critics such as Alex Sierz, Michael Billington, and Emma Smith assert that the play is not about actual animals and consider animals as mere metaphors for humans, referring to the Holocaust or immigrants. Did you really use them as a backdrop for humans and their experiences, or are they real subjects with agency and presence?

I wanted to give the audience space to be able to receive both readings of the text: as an examination of speciesism and of our treatment of humans. I firmly believe that how we treat non-human animals is indicative of how we treat humans. The non-human animals in the play were never meant to act as simple metaphor, but they could be read as such (Figure 1).

Figure 1.

Human Animals, Royal Court Theatre, 2016. Photo by Helen Banks.

From the very beginning of literary and dramatic history, animals have almost always served as stand-ins for humans or symbolic referents. How do you think this tendency impacts real-life human–animal relationships? And to what extent portraying animals as agents of their lives, rather than as passive subjects, in literary works contribute to improving animal welfare and shifting societal attitudes?

Absolutely. As an observation, I think it’s interesting how many children’s stories are about animals – Bambi, Watership Down, Dumbo. But in adult work, they are bystanders to the trauma of humans, with notable exceptions like the work of Laline Paull. I think non-fiction work is doing great things to help shift societal attitudes – Black Fish, All That Breathes. But I also think fiction can do this too and absolutely be a place to improve animal welfare or, at the very least, showcase the agency they deserve.

In the 2016 production of Human Animals, apart from caged insects, which served as metaphors, no real animals appeared on stage. What are your views on the use of real animals in theatre and performance? Do you think it enhances animal visibility or raises concerns about animal cruelty?

I think it’s all about context. In the UK, there are very strict rules about how animals are treated on stage, and as far as I know, they are quite well protected. Please note I am talking specifically about theatrical stages and not, for example, circus or private animal shows. I think in the theatre, when animals are used, it can highlight how performative the human actors are – and actually, this is not very helpful and can undermine the whole artifice of theatre.

In an interview with Jessie Thompson, you say that ‘a play might change the world, or at the very least change a mind’. Footnote ² And you successfully ignite an awareness about various issues such as gender inequality, violence, migration, and social marginalization through Roadkill, Nora, and Swallow, among others. Human Animals, too, fosters ecological consciousness and explores interspecies relations. Do you think theatre about animals can contribute to conversations about animal rights, conservation, and empathy?

For me, theatre is a place of empathy, conversation, and sometimes catharsis. I never wish to lecture an audience or tell them how they should feel. But I suppose part of me just wants to show the emotional truth of situations that often go overlooked or under-represented. I also think I am interested in how we can platform interspecies relations without having to have a human actor play a non-human actor, and this is something I am continuing to explore in my work.

In the play, characters like Jamie and Lisa look at the eyes of animals, and later they become more conscious of animals and begin fighting to protect them. This reminds me of John Berger’s idea that modern people lost their connection with animals because they have lost eye contact with them. Footnote ³ Do you see your work as an attempt to restore that connection?

Yes – nature and the non-human animal world are woven into most of my work. Either by being the present absence (Girl in the Machine) or directly (Human Animals, Swallow). As a species, whether we like it or not, we are inherently tied to the natural world. Our safety depends on it, so we ignore it at our peril; whereas the natural world is entirely indifferent to our survival. So it is up to us to look it in the eye, and I hope my work encourages that and complicates the idea that it is simply us versus them.

In Human Animals, you refer to the famous Lifeboat Case, adding a witty twist. Footnote ⁴ What inspired you to reinterpret this scenario?

It was a simple way of getting to the root of the argument of the play. It’s often quoted by animal rights activists. So it felt plausible to bring it in, and also helpful to the audience.

If you had to choose, who would be cast into the sea?

No comment!

Your play is classified as a ‘dystopia’ because of the scenario it imagines. Did any specific event or place inspire your play, or is it entirely fictional?

The piece is entirely fictional, but it is inspired by many true events. I think it is interesting that I wrote it before the Covid pandemic, and yet many of the details rang true during that time. This is partly because humanity has suffered many pandemics through its existence, [and] while the specifics have changed, our attitudes haven’t really.

I found the scene where Jamie was feeding the foxes with his own flesh particularly moving. During my research, I came across a Jataka tale in which the Buddha sacrifices his own body to save a starving tiger. I was wondering if you were inspired by this story, or if the resemblance is purely coincidental?

I didn’t know this story about the Buddha, so I wasn’t inspired by this story. However, a few years prior to writing Human Animals, there was a story in America of a man who released his ‘pet’ exotic animals – including large cats – and then took his own life. It was reported that the animals had also eaten part of him, in what some suspected was an act of self-sacrifice.Footnote ⁵ While this circumstance was different, it definitely stayed with me as an image.

One of the most harrowing and symbolic moments of Human Animals is the very ending of the play, where pigeons feed on a corpse and gradually become humans. Does this relate to the title of your play? Can you elaborate on this scene a little bit?

I do not wish to be obtuse, but I’ve always left the final scene in Human Animals open to the interpretation of the audience/reader. It is definitely related to the title and, in a more expressionistic way, to the themes of the play. Other than that, I think the audience/reader will bring their own ideas to it, which I like.

Even though your play does not end catastrophically for people, it can be contended that the ethical issue of the worst-case scenario remains, at least for the animals and nature. Does a shock tactic like this actually accomplish the goal of making viewers understand how serious the changes are, and motivate them to take action against animal cruelty and the impending climate catastrophe?

It’s very hard because many of the facts about our impending climate catastrophe are shocking. I think it’s very easy to disengage an audience if you shock them into non-action or silence. But also, it’s the reality we are facing. I don’t have the answer as to how we change attitudes or promote positive action. I suppose I am just trying to open minds and hearts by showing the emotional truth of the matter. Then, it is the responsibility of the audience to choose what to do with this new information (Figure 2).

Figure 2.

Human Animals, Royal Court Theatre, 2016. Photo by Helen Banks.

Are you planning to engage with animals again in your future works?

I am now writing a play called XL Bully – which, amongst other things, looks at the controversy around a very new (and sometimes dangerous) cross-breed of dog. The cross-breeding of this dog has led it to have an incredibly strong kill instinct and has led to many deaths across the UK. There has now been a very strong piece of legislation around the dogs. Rather than looking at the legislation, I’m looking at why people felt the need to ‘create’ an XL bully in the first place – what it says about humans, and what the implications are for the natural world.

I would like to thank you for this very meaningful piece, for the ones still to come and for taking the time to be part of this interview. I also truly appreciate your work on animals, and your contributions to discussions on animal welfare.

Thank you. It was a pleasure.