The democratic argument for leaving the EU.

To the horror of some of my friends and family, I think I’m going to vote for Brexit on June 23rd. I thought that – just in case any of the horrified friends and family want to read it, but mostly for my own entertainment – I would write down my main reason.

My main reason is that leaving the EU would probably be a good thing for democracy.

More specifically, it would improve accountability in the sense of the ability of the people to remove their leaders from office when those leaders have done something the majority of the people disapprove of.

The UK’s first-past-the-post electoral system and its ‘almost no checks and balances’ style of parliamentary government are terrible democratic procedures in a number of ways. The electoral system means that about 60% of people live in a safe seat where voting is either pointless or has some sort of symbolic value. And the free hand given to ruling parties make it possible to enact dramatic policies which might have serious negative consequences. (The 40% cut to higher education funding in the 2010 budget springs to mind, possibly because it helps explain why I’m doing the PhD in Canada.)

But one thing we do have is a system which makes it relatively easy for us to see who is responsible for enacting a policy we don’t like or failing to take actions we think they should have taken. When the US government shut down in 2013 because they couldn’t agree to pass a government budget (!) the president and Congress could both blame each other. The houses of Congress, because both have some power, could have blamed one another if they had wanted to. And parties could also have blamed their own legislators, who are much more independent than our tightly-whipped MPs. In the British system these strategies of blame-avoidance are either never or only rarely available. The party controlling the executive also controls the Commons, the Lords rarely interferes with important legislation, and MPs – with some important (normally Tory) exceptions– can be relied upon to kowtow to their bosses. And in contrast to places like Norway and Sweden, where minority or coalition governments have to rule through bargaining and consensus-building between parties, British ruling cliques have nearly always governed alone, which make attribution of responsibility to certain key leaders even easier.

Of course, it is always hard to assess whether government is performing badly because of bad decisions or because of circumstances beyond their control. And nearly all of the real work of policy-making work is conducted by bureaucrats in Whitehall consulting with small networks of experts.

But when British citizens dislike a policy they can normally identify someone who was responsible for its enactment and who they can try to punish. If lots of them dislike lots of policies then they really can throw the government out the next election. The nature of our political system means that British citizens can (when and if they want to) hold their leaders to account through elections more easily than any other set of citizens in Europe. Our electoral system is probably one of the most friendly to electoral accountability in the world, even if in practice money (and other things) blunt the power of the accountability mechanism.

This kind of accountability is not all we want from democracy by any means. For example, we might prefer a PR electoral system which is not so great in terms of accountability but because of the way it promotes a consensual, class-compromise kind of rule which tends to result in more generous welfare systems.

But the decisive result in the 2011 electoral system referendum means that we are, for the time being, stuck with the system we have. That means we should try to make the most of the specific kinds of political virtues it can provide for us. And accountability does have some value. More than nearly anyone in the world, we really have the power to throw people we don’t like out of office. That power has important positive consequences and is at least one reason for preferring democracy over the alternatives. And, while the capacity to hold political leaders accountable won’t necessarily make the world a much better place, the absence of accountability makes it much easier for political elites to simply cater to economic elites rather than bother thinking about the rest of us.

The EU is not the most accountable of bodies.

There is no governing or opposition party in the European Parliament and hence no way for voters to hold MEPs accountable through party turnover. When winning candidates go to Brussels they join ‘party groups’ and then are tightly whipped to vote as the leaders of that group command. The average MEP has no say in the policy process at all and policy-making in the Parliament consists of behind-the-scenes bargaining between the leaders of the different groups. Moreover, the party groups form coalitions with one another. In fact, the outcome of most votes in the European Parliament (69% of them) is determined by a ‘red-black’ cartel which sees the biggest left and right wing party groups – the Socialists and Democrats (S&D) and the European People’s Party (EPP) – agree to vote together. This collusion between opposing party groups means that although 2/3 of People’s Party MEPs oppose redistribution they tend to end up voting for it. And although ¾ of in their party manifestos and the kinds of socially illiberal policies that ¾ of Socialist and Democrat MEPs oppose socially conservative policies they tend to end up supporting them. If you vote for, say, a Labour candidate for the European Parliament because they are a social liberal you are making a mistake: because Labour are in the S&D group your MEP will vote for socially conservative policies most of the time.

Of course, the European Parliament is not main place in which European legislation is made. It can’t initiate the legislative process. Instead it must take its lead from the European Council and Commission. These two bodies are relatively insulated from any sort of popular oversight. They are staffed by people nobody has heard of who are appointed by the leaders of national governments. Most of their decisions are taken by consensus or a ‘voice vote’, which means that nobody records who voted to accept or reject the decision. That means voters back home – and even (most of the time) politicians in national parliaments – cannot know how their appointed ‘representatives’ in those bodies voted and cannot punish them for voting in ways they don’t like.

In short. Westminster, for all its faults, is a relatively accountable democratic institution relative to others, while accountability in the EU is extremely low. That means that, as more and more of the rules that govern our lives are made in an office in Brussels, those we are ceding power to distant technocrats who it is almost impossible to monitor or try to punish if they do things that cater to, say, business interests rather than normal people.

There are important considerations in favour of staying in the EU too, of course.

The EU might make us richer (though the Guardian’s economics correspondent is for Brexit). There may be some situations in which it might make sense to trade off democracy for wealth, but I don’t think we are a poor enough country to make this one of them.

Voting to leave may put Boris in office. But I think that this issue should probably be made as more on the basis of principle rather than short-term party-political considerations.

Voting to leave the EU might make the already sickeningly nationalist Brits even more sickeningly nationalistic. I’m not sure whether being hitched to a European project run by an unaccountable elite will make us love other Europeans or resent them. But I accept that it might be worth trading off democratic accountability for a chance to promote cosmopolitan attitudes.

Maybe we should stay in the EU simply because it redistributes cash from richer to poorer European countries. We should be aware  that the poorer countries lose control over their political leaders in exchange for getting richer, but perhaps that is not so bad.

If we think that another war between, say, France and Germany is a serious possibility, then perhaps we value the EU because it will promote peace. But that kind of war is not a serious possibility. More importantly, while the European Community may have helped secure peace in the past, the rolling-back of democracy that its growth has entailed is one of the reasons for the renaissance of fascism on the continent. If the EU is bad for accountability in the UK then it has been terrible for accountability in Central and Eastern Europe, where its promotion of elitist technocracy has encouraged the predictable populist response. If elites stop feeling as though they need to justify themselves to the people then the people may even forget why they should support a political system which ignores their interests and undermines their self-respect, they may long for the vicarious pleasures of charismatic leadership. The sacrifice of accountability to peace may, in the longer-run, make war more likely.

Despite all the features of the British political system which make the British political leaders accountable in principle – the features mentioned above – I am not very optimistic about their accountability in practice. The times are not particularly good for democracy, with mid-century gains being rolled back in the rich world and some important democracies in and around Europe (Turkey, Hungary, even Poland) shading into authoritarianism.

Voting to leave the EU would be one way to defend democracy. If Britain left the EU there would be some negative consequences. But leaving the EU would strongly promote accountability and would probably be a good thing for democracy in general.

This is not supposed to be a decisive argument in favour of Brexit. Accountability is just one political good amongst many and my preference for it is partly for idiosyncratic reasons. I probably like it because I spend lots of my time thinking about ways to improve democratic systems and this is one available opportunity to make a substantial improvement to the British democratic system.

That is why I am currently planning to vote to leave the EU on 23rd June.


A Burmese Spring? Part two.

Here’s an article written for Oxford Left Review that is now two years out of date:

The April by-elections in Myanmar saw the National League for Democracy (NLD) win 43 of the 44 seats they contested, bringing them for the first time into a Burmese parliament. Their leader and figurehead of the pro-democracy movement, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi won a seat in a township just outside Yangon. Her pro-democracy party even won all even won all four seats in the newly built capital, Naypiyadaw, where powerful men from the military establishment form over half the electorate. Despite allegations of electoral malpractice, including the claim that ballot papers had wax dripped over the NLD box to stop it being ticked, both parties – the NLD and the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) – have accepted the results.

In 1990 the NLD decisively beat another party backed by the military elite after a full-scale popular uprising sparked by an argument about music in a tea shop. That result was simply annulled. The Orwellian State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC) argued that it needed time to draft a new constitution. In a typically comical example of shocking governmental incompetence it ordered every farmer to plant Jatropha (physic bean). The plant’s Burmese name ‘Jet Suu’ can sound similar to ‘Suu Kyi’ said backwards and it was hoped that planting it across the country would diminish the influence of the Lady. Other, less ridiculous, measures were also slowly undertaken to appease political unrest. A constitutional convention was formed and in 2008 it issued the new Burmese constitution. Power was formally transferred to a civilian government around a year ago. The recent by-elections are just the latest episode in the remarkable – but still fragile – transformation the country has seen since then.

In the west the images coming from Burma may conjure images of the other major democratisation story of our times: Arab Spring. Is this a useful comparison?

Most importantly, the change happening in Myanmar is not a popular movement in the way the series of protests and revolutions in North Africa and the Middle East were. There were no big rallies on the streets of Yangon – no fiery confrontations with the authorities. This is mainly because there didn’t need to be. The military establishment know that they have had almost no popular legitimacy since the late fifties, when their coup against the ineffective democratic government was widely supported. This legitimacy vacuum was demonstrated recently by the badly-named ‘Saffron Revolution‘ of 2007. (It is badly named because the monks who led it wear Maroon, not Saffron.) That uprising ended when the government filled fire engines with insecticide and faced down the protesters. The current process is essentially an elite-managed spectacle, thought with some popular involvement. The Burmese popular uprising parallel to that of the Arab Spring happened in 2007 and 1988 and current events are a delayed response to that movement, perhaps accelerated by governmental worries related to the Arab Spring itself.

The causes of the Arab Spring and the ‘Burmese Spring’ also demonstrate a similar parallel. When Mohammed Bouazizi set fire to himself on January 4th 2011 (coincidently Myanmar’s independence day, when Aung San Suu Kyi’s father and Burmese independence hero Aung San is celebrated) crippling food price inflation was a crucial short-term factor behind the firestorm his action precipitated. Likewise the Saffron Revolution was ignited by an eight-person protest over rapidly rising consumer prices, including a surprise removal of fuel subsidies which had large knock-on effects throughout the economy. In both cases, of course, there were multiple other factors – most obviously long term and widespread corruption and oppression – but commodity prices played a very significant short-term role. Once again, in the Burmese case it is the events in 2007 which parallel the Arab Spring. The by-election was not a sudden, unpredictable outpouring of grievances but a state-managed spectacle aimed at soothing grievances aired five years earlier.

One obvious contrast between the two movements has been the role played by the US and other powerful global actors. The oppressive regimes in the Arab world were supported by the US whereas Myanmar famously was not. This is due to US image-management and strategic interest rather than some serious disjunct between the two cases. Myanmar was made a Cause célèbre not after the massacre of 1988 but rather in the mid-nineties at exactly the time when China’s ‘most favoured nation’ status was decoupled from its human rights record. Human rights discourse had recently become newly important and the US was casting around for someone else to condemn in an attempt to shore up its fragile self-image. Predictably the recent move towards dialogue by the US (and, obediently, everyone else) coincides with a new recognition of the importance of Myanmar’s strategic location between India and China. That and huge reserves of oil and gas found recently off Myanmar’s southern Andaman coast. (European and US energy companies have in fact operated continuously in Myanmar despite the ban on doing so. Unocal, now a subsidiary of Chevron, paid off villagers who have sued them for allowing those guardian their pipe line to rape, murder and enslave local villagers.)

To be fair to the US, they were supporting democracy in both regions prior to the Arab Spring and events in Myanmar. The US ‘freedom agenda’ promoted by George Bush Jr. is now widely recognised by individuals such as Condoleezza Rice to have been incompatible with their support for oppressive regimes such as those in the Middle East. They console themselves that they spent millions of pounds funding pro-democracy movements which eventually played a major role in forcing governmental change. The sovereignty of allied governments such as that in Egypt could be attacked openly; funds were channelled through legal NGOs. In Myanmar the CIA still has to play the key role of smuggling in funds for pro-democracy groups and has had to engage covertly with key players in the pro- and anti-democratic elites. (The pervasiveness of what the US called ‘low-intensity warfare’ should not be underestimated.) And the main difference between the two cases is that what in the Arab world was a spontaneous rising with, after a slight hesitation, support from the US is in Myanmar a spectacle managed in partnership between the US and the native military-industrial elite. Pro-democratic US rhetoric forced a positive line on the uprisings in the middle-east. In Myanmar US desire to support democracy and overriding material interest are for once running in tandem.

Aside from the controlled nature of change in Myanmar, perhaps the most important disjunct between the Arab and Burmese cases will be the difficulties associated with democratisation. GDP PPP per capita in Myanmar, at something like $1,300, is around half that in Yemen, less than a quarter that in Egypt or Libya and a sixth that in Tunisia. Moreover, Myanmar has been systematically isolated, spied upon and brain-washed for around half a century to an extent that only Gaddafi’s Libya can hope to compete with. (The proportion of the population thought to be government spies – possibly 10-20% in Libya and 13% in Myanmar – is similar in both countries.) Finally, Myanmar is almost the most ethnically diverse country in the world. It’s population of 48 million is an explosive mix of over 130 ethnic groups who have been at war with the central government (and each other) since independence from the British in 1948. Though an air of state failure hangs around parts of Yemen and Libya, Myanmar is still tearing itself to pieces in what is now the longest running war in the world. Many ethnic armies are supportive of the NLD in the hope that they represent the best hope for a genuine federalism, but with so many groups and so many divergent interests it is not clear if even Aung San Suu Kyi has the political capital necessary to pull of a miraculous outbreak of peace in the hills. These three factors – extreme poverty, a legacy of sustained and near-total oppression and a highly combustible ethnic cocktail – make democratisation in Myanmar a much more difficult proposition than it will be for the new regimes born of the Arab Spring. The first two will also make the ordinary people in Myanmar far more vulnerable to the vicissitudes of global capital when that particular tsunami hits their shore.

A stage-managed spectacle it may be, but things are changing in Myanmar. The currency was recently partially floated and other smaller economic and political liberalisation measures are announced regularly. It is likely that the very worst cases of grinding poverty, as well as phenomena such as slave labour, will be diminished as NGOs are allowed more extensive access to the country and accountability gradually improves. The long-term focus of the pro-democracy movement is now on the 2015 general elections. Civil society needs to be rapidly developed. A base of party activists needs to be found. There is a constant threat of hard-line factions within the military elite getting cold feet and winning more power from the reformists. A lot depends on whether president Thein Sein can play his cards right within his party. The slow pace of transition is not necessarily a negative thing; rapid IMF-led economic liberalisation such as that seen in post-Soviet Russia and much of the South in the nineties would probably severely undermine Burmese economic development. Sudden neo-liberalisation is a recipe for serious social problems and the populace needs time to engage in a sustained process of collective political self-education if change has any hope of working in their interests rather than than of Western shareholders and a tiny domestic elite.

Drawing parallels between the Arab and Burmese democratisation movements is not particularly illuminating. If there was a Burmese Spring it was in 1988, or perhaps in 20007. What we are witnessing now behind the Teak Curtain is a controlled governmentally-managed process in response to these aborted revolutionary movements. Such parallels also overlook the very different role of the US in both situations. In the Maghreb and the Middle East it was forced to withdraw support for tyrants to avoid attaining new heights of hypocrisy. In Myanmar it is reinstating support for the military-backed government in order to serve both the interests of the people and of its hungry corporations, which appear to be aligned. Finally, parallels forget the Myanmar has been closed in spirit to North Korea than Egypt and that it remains much poorer and more politically isolated and underdeveloped than countries Tunisia or Oman and even Libya and Yemen. As in those countries, the Burmese road ahead is long, dangerous and uncertain. It will almost inevitably involve extensive further violence and repression in the coming years. In both instances, however, there is at least the possibility of genuine positive change for the masses. While 2012 is not the year for a Burmese Spring it has been a milestone in a process which should be greeted with cautious optimism. It remains to be seen whether a genuine popular movement on the back of a NLD landslide in 2015 may finally end the military-industrial stranglehold on the country.

A Burmese Spring? Part One

What is happening in Myanmar and what happens next?

For the first time since the massacre of protesting monks in 2007, Myanmar is suddenly in the news. The National League for Democracy (NLD) has recently won 43 of 45 seats contested in a recent by-election and their leader and pro-democracy icon Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, beat her rival, former military doctor U Soe Min of the Junta-backed Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), in Kawhmu township just outside Yangon. These are the first significant multiparty elections in Myanmar in over twenty years and the results haven’t been simply annulled as they were last time.

The NLD even won all four seats in the newly built capital, Naypiyadaw, where powerful men (they are all men) from the military establishment form over half the electorate. Former Prime Minister and spy chief Khin Nyunt coyly told reporters he had voted for the party which serves the interests of civilians and reflects the will of the majority. His son, along with other establishment figures, felt safe admitting his preference for the NLD.

The NLD and USDP have been trying to keep things running smoothly since. President Thein Sein has stated that he thought the elections were  “conducted in a very successful way.” The Union Election Commission, responding to claims of fiddled voter lists and wax covering the NLD box on the ballot papers, has vowed to investigate and prosecute electoral fraud. The NLD for its part, wary of the very real possibility of a hardline takeover within the military and business establishment, has announced that the rule of law is its number one priority.

What now? A useful way into this question is to think about the perspective of those actually inside Myanmar.

The hope among the NLD leadership is that economic and political life can be gradually opened over the next three years and that moderates will be entrenched enough by 2015 to allow the NLD’s inevitable victory at the polls in that year’s general election to be translated into some real political power. This platform could be used to slowly reshape the Burmese political system. Constitutional military powers, such as the 166 parliamentary seats (of 664) reserved for the Army, or ‘Tatmadaw’, could be slowly withdrawn.

The commercial and artistic elite in Yangon and Mandalay often want something like a Thai-style liberal democracy which retains a central places for Theravada Buddhism and perhaps for the Tatmadaw as well. (The Tatmadaw were, after all, the heroes of Myanmar’s independence myth. Suu Kyi’s dad Bogyoke Aung San was at their head when he liberated the country from the British and Japanese rule.)

Most of the urban working and middle classes venerate the Lady without necessarily knowing exactly what she stands for. Because she is unfortunately a lady, many I talked to seemed to want her sons to come and rule as kings, or minlaung, the powerful Future King of Burmese myth. The systematic distortion of news and impossibility of talking about the future in public (when perhaps as many as 1 in 8 people are in government pay as spies) mean visions are often impressionistic and political conceptual frameworks incredibly simplistic. That said, popular support for the NLD is widespread. While knowledge of alternative political systems may be scrappy it is obvious to almost everyone that there must be something better worth fighting for.

The peasants who form the majority of the population generally have little to no grip on politics at the national level. They may or may not be able to name any national political actor. The peasants I talked to there desired – and received – only one thing from the government: non-interference. They weren’t taxed at all and their only connection to wider political structures came in the form of a headman who received a government salary to settle legal disputes (all of which were sexual harassment cases) by facilitating agreement between the parties on suitable financial reparations. Only one case had ever been passed up to any kind of higher ‘court’. Funding for the school and the health centre came from a wealthy monk and other benefactors in Yangon.

The hill peoples have different perspectives again. Myanmar has around 136 ethnicities in a population of under fifty million, most of whom live in the mountains on its borders with India, China, Thailand, Pakistan and Laos. They too desire non-interference. James Scott recently argued that when states historically tried to levy taxes people would run to the hills, and that the hill cultures reflect this aversion to government. Alongside this are desires for independence. The minorities often miss the British, who let their princes retain some power. Tactical support for the NLD is likely to sit alongside unrealistic visions of independence and only very slightly more plausible visions of devolution or deep federalism.

Finally to the military establishment themselves. There is no consensus in it’s ranks. Revolutionary plans are passed up to generals at the very highest levels. The generals have realised that isolation can only lead to grinding poverty. Most genuinely want economic change. Some worry for their souls. (An acquiantance told me she regularly saw Than Shwe‘s wife come to her monastery crying about her husbands likely rebirth.) . The current emergence of liberalising tendencies are to a large extent a result of simple generational change. The Arab Spring helped speed up the democratisation programme which had been creeping along. Corrupt officials are being shuffled out of power. But the old guard are worried and no amount of Burmese Kremlinology can reliably predict whether the evident culture change at the top is stable or how deep it goes.

So much for the political visions inside the country. There are far more powerful interests which will determine the country’s long term future. China, India, the US and others are looking greedily at Myanmar’s huge gas and oil fields. It has huge pristine Teak forests – among the last on earth. (Illegally logged teak was being smuggled downriver by government bigwigs in a village I visited. The logs in Myanmar were worth $60. Their global market value is over $4,000.) Myanmar has an important strategic position between China and India. It has markets to enter and consumers to create.

It remains to be seen whether Myanmar will see an 8888 style revolution, a slower opening up, a crackdown by the military-industrial establishment or some combination of all three. The really tricky bit will be negotiating settlements with the minorities, protecting the environment and worker’s interests in the face of western corporate power and nurturing a democratic political ethos.

Loss is unavoidable. Most aspects of traditional culture will be wiped out or preserved only as a sham, for example. (British American Tobacco is marketing its products  with an “American youth culture theme” and Justin Beiber was inexplicably allowed past the censors.)

But positive change is happening. The current elite-led reforms partially signal the success of the uprising in 2007. Political knowledge in Myanmar is much more widely available than before; the government are slowly easing censorship laws. Civil society has recently undergone a much needed explosion and new informal organisations are popping up everywhere and gradually improving the lives of the poor. The new openness – photos of Aung San Suu Kyi are now visible everywhere across Yangon – will reactivate political memories and debate. Widespread popular support for the NLD needs to be translated into a functioning mass party organisation. As things improve it will become increasingly harder for the military-industrial elite to try to roll back new freedoms without incurring the wrath of huge numbers of ordinary Burmese. It’s hard not to be excited by what is happening in Myanmar.

Cross-posted to Politics in Spires

Votes for Animals!

Book Review: Zoopolis by Sue Donaldson and Will Kymlicka

Sue Donaldson and Will Kymlicka, the husband and wife authors of Zoopolis believe that not only should animals have basic rights but that they (or at least some of them) should be accepted as full citizens in our political communities. In doing so they move the ‘animal rights’ debate from ethics to politics.

This is a radical thesis which will appeal to almost no one. Indeed, some of its implications border on the ridiculous. Yet it is surprisingly hard to refute and will take the debate about the limits of liberal citizenship into radical new areas.

The authors start from recent developments in citizenship theory – an area in which Kymlicka’s ideas on the rights of minority cultural groups have had a major influence. Full citizenship, in the strong sense of active democratic political agency, is the central organising principle of the contemporary disability movement. Political agency for some disabled people cannot be conceived in the usual terms of (Habermasian) deliberation or (Rawlsian) giving of publicly-intelligible reasons. People with serious mental disabilities, for example, may not be able to communicate linguistically or judge about how political platforms might impinge upon their interests. This has led a number of theorists to argue for types of ‘supported decision-making’ and ‘assisted agency’ in which collaborators help elicit and interpret disabled people’s preferences and conceptions of the good. Because we all spend substantial periods in situations of dependency, standard models of citizenship overlook the way such assisted agency is a normal part of every human life.

Although it isn’t framed quite so bluntly, Kymlicka and Donaldson offer a choice of two bullets to bite. On pain of incoherence either we deny full citizenship to many (disabled, young, etc) humans or we grant citizenship to those animals with which we can communicate. The ineluctability of this choice is hammered home by a series of arguments designed to prove that we stand in a duty of justice to ‘sentient selves’ rather than ‘moral persons’ in some rationalistic sense. Sentience is defined as “a capacity shared by all beings for whom the struggle for life and flourishing matters, whether or not the being in question has a reflective sense of which things matter or how they matter.”  Rather than tackle in detail the thorny problem of drawing a firm lines between selves and objects, the authors propose a rule of thumb according to which a subject exists when there is the possibility of intersubjective recognition between us and that subject.

Animal rights theorists have thus far been concerned with ethical questions about the duties owed to animals due to their intrinsic moral worth. But – just as our human rights underdetermine our rights as citizens of a particular country – the ‘human rights’ of animals (grounded in intrinsic moral status) underdetermine rights (and duties) owed to (and by) individual animals on the basis of their relations with other human and animal community members. Zoopolis breaks new ground by looking at animal rights from a genuinely political perspective.

To that end the majority of the book is spent examining the multiple ways animals and humans form communities together and drawing out implications for the kind of rights and duties owed in each kind of community. Domestic animals, it is argued, should be regarded as full citizens with legal rights and complex sets of positive duties owed to them. Wild animals are not owed citizenship rights but should be regarded as members of sovereign communities and granted the (animal) equivalent of universal human rights. So called ‘liminal’ animals with whom we have limited but important interactions – urban foxes and birds, dormice reliant on hedgerows for their ecological niche, stray cats and the like – occupy a complex middle ground.

This latter section is replete with examples of animal agency and and interspecies communication. We hear the story of Lulu the house-pig who sensed something was seriously wrong with her owner Joanne and ran of the house to get help, drawing blood as she squeezed through a dog door. When a driver found her lying in the road he was led back to the kitchen, where Joanne had just suffered a heart attack in the kitchen. This and less melodramatic examples of interspecies interaction are intended to illuminate the fact of our common community with animals and our duty to respect their rights and needs in exactly the way we would those of semi-dependent human community members.

When it gets into the nitty-gritty of radical animal rights and duties it also inevitably comes across as pie in the sky to those who are not fully convinced by the strong animal rights thesis. A favourite moment was the optimistic claim that there “is growing evidence that dogs can thrive on a (suitably planned) vegan diet” and the ensuing discussion of whether cats should be allowed to hunt birds when hungry for meat. (They shouldn’t.) Attempts to demonstrate the ability of animals to be engaged political actors stretch credulity despite the best efforts of the authors.

Such moments stand in tension with the general argument for animal citizenship at the heart of the book, which is remarkably difficult to punch serious holes in. It’s a deliciously contentious thesis. The argumentative weight placed on difficult and potentially offensive comparisons between domestic animals and the seriously disabled is suppressed. And many radical claims about the necessity of inviolable animal rights are brushed over fairly quickly in order to get to the main task of moving the animal rights debate from ethics to politics. But Zoopolis successfully demonstrates the benefits of such a move and will force liberal political theorists to look much harder at the boundaries of the category of citizenship.

That said, I for one was slightly disappointed when they admitted that “effective political representation of domesticated animals […] will not be through extending the vote […] since animals are not capable of understanding the political platforms of different candidates or political parties.” Shame…

Cross-posted to Politics in Spires