In a famous incident recounted in The Animal that Therefore I Am, Jacques Derrida rises from bed in the morning and, while walking naked across his bedroom, is confronted by his cat, Lutece. Nonplussed, neither Derrida nor Lutece makes a response. Nevertheless, something passes between them. This moment, which could variously be described as one of encounter, gaze, exchange or recognition, forms the backdrop to this volume. The animal other regarding Derrida, despite being viewed by Descartes as nothing more than a machine, exerts an unforgettable transfixing power over him.
Derrida does not efface the human–animal distinction but complicates it. For him, the animal is not some kind of abstract divine other but an animal in its fully biological, communicative and ontological intertwining with the human. Importantly for Derrida, unlike for Levinas, the animal has a face and the full ontological significance this brings. Many contributors follow Derrida's lead, meaning that coverage sometimes overlaps. Nevertheless, diverse perspectives emerge, deepening understanding rather than merely repeating.
Certain chapters merit specific mention, including some by newer scholars. The editor, Stephen Moore, refers to the ‘quadrupedal Christ’ in the Revelation depictions of the Lamb of God. Inspired by Hélène Cixous, Erika Murphy, a recent Ph.D. graduate, expounds the Johannine imagery of Christ as a slaughtered lamb. She explores the full bloody (divin)animality of this butchered meaty sacrifice while acknowledging that it exhausts our comprehension. Turning to small-scale organisms, Denise Kimber Buell considers how recognising the reality of microbial life brings us to perceive our connectedness with the wider created order. Depending on the context, microbes may be viewed either as productive and health-giving (such as in probiotic yoghurts) or as vectors of disease (such as when associated with Roma gypsy camps). Drawing on the Gospels of Philip and Thomas, Buell goes on to show how this same ambiguity is present in the eucharist, which evokes death and sacrifice and naturally decomposes yet is also received as the transformed and resurrected flesh of Christ. Following the Lutheran theologian, Joseph Sittler, Terra S. Rowe, who is a Ph.D. candidate, proposes a nature christology which extends not only to animals but also to trees. She evokes John Muir's awareness in Yosemite of a ‘divine arboreality’ in the huge sequoia trees, which he even saw fit to address as ‘Lord’.
One of the most informative chapters is by Matthew T. Riley, who is also a Ph.D. candidate. Riley examines the work of historian Lynn Townsend White, known primarily for his 1967 article ‘The Historical Roots of our Ecological Crisis’. This text placed the blame for the crisis squarely on Christianity, and thereby helped spawn the ecotheology movement. However, reading further, Riley uncovers a more complex stance, showing that White did not in fact see Christian theology in entirely negative terms. A committed Presbyterian, he was critical of the notion that humans should exercise responsible stewardship over the created order. Rather, inspired by Franciscan images of nature, White promoted the biblically inspired vision of an inclusive spiritual democracy encompassing all of God's creatures, including plants and even inanimate objects.
Containing some impressive contributions, several by scholars associated with Drew University, this volume provides much critical stimulation. Yet its concrete implications for animal welfare or animal ethics remain unclear. Ken Stone's chapter on the dogs of Exodus 11 and 22, on which Levinas based his essay ‘The Name of a Dog, or Natural Rights’, stands out in dealing with a group of (then) undomesticated animals. However, the haunting spectre of Lutece seems to keep drawing the discussion back to individual companion animals. We lavish excessive amounts of attention, time and money on these in comparison with herd and flock animals on farms, which in Derrida's terms presumably reveal just as much of a trace of the divine presence. Nevertheless, perhaps Levinas was not so wrong to deny the full, facial alterity of non-human animals, because many species, such as sheep and cattle, live and respond to humans primarily at the group level. Given our massive global use of animals for their meat, milk and eggs, it is difficult to justify regarding herd animals as, in effect, an aggregation of companion animals, particularly when isolation and individual handling cause distress. Maybe a herd or a flock can fix us humans with a collective gaze, but this establishes a subtly different relationship, which is grounded in the pre-existing solidarity of the animal species. This solidarity is grounded partly in how animals gaze upon each other, and otherwise regard each other. In view of the importance of sounds and smells, this should remind us humans that the face is not composed only of eyes.
