Toward Legal Pluralism, Postcolonialism, and Interspecies Justice
Abstract and Keywords
The final chapter takes a broad and comprehensive perspective, returning to the structural challenges of animal law in an era of globalization and the question of whether extraterritorial jurisdiction can help tackle them. The author identifies the social and societal risks (as opposed to legal risks) that pose a real challenge to the law of jurisdiction and explains why we should not blindly advocate the blanket application of extraterritorial jurisdiction. But these dangers do not release us from the responsibility to protect animals in cross-border relations, as this would subject them to economic laissez-faire. The author uses insights from animal studies and postcolonial studies to describe the steps that must be taken to reconcile these conflicting demands. With these safety valves, the author concludes, extraterritorial animal law has the potential to evolve beyond adversity to multiculturalism, into a tool that facilitates cross-cultural sensibility, awareness of shared histories, and the elimination of oppression.
I BEGAN THIS book by noting the structural limits of our ethical, social, and legal efforts to work toward a more just world for animals in an era of globalization. The vision of neoliberalization of the 1970s and 1980s has always been to create a highly mobile system of production and distribution with few or no regulatory burdens, but we have seen no reduction or leveling of these developments ever since trade liberalization began to dominate political agendas across the world. The industries that use animals—be it factory farms, slaughterhouse businesses, basic research and testing, or entertainment and sports industries—are characterized by high levels of cross-border investment, manufacture, transport, and trade. The animals used by these industries constitute the absolute majority of all domesticated animals on this planet and they are almost exclusively owned by multinational corporations.1 Multinationals enjoy competitive advantages in goods markets since they can readily exchange information and assets, draw on superior management skills, profit from global patents and trade secrets, and access substantial capital.2 These advantages make it easy for them to deploy resources to more business-friendly environments, which often goes hand in hand with a lack of laws designed to protect animals.
This ease of movement has intimidated most legislators, who expect and fear an exodus of industry through outsourcing, and the consequent loss of local jobs and tax revenues. Corporations are increasingly outsourcing, but this is only half the story. The states themselves have made considerable efforts to prevent the mounting instances of outsourcing (p.402) by adapting their regulatory environments to suit businesses. This book has touched on numerous cases where legislators decided not to enforce their own laws, abolished established protections, and ignored the will of their constituents who were firmly committed to protecting animals better and more consistently.
Since efforts to improve the legal situation of animals—be it through protections, rights, or duties of care—are manifestly and almost inextricably linked to economic considerations, animal law is bound to be a volatile and fragile field of law. The fact that protecting animals is “subject to an economic analysis” or “must be balanced against economic and social considerations,”3 which is reiterated in so many laws, court decisions, and policy debates, has certainly not helped to counter this development. But is this what citizens expect from their states when they entrust them with drafting and enacting animal laws? The purpose of animal law, after all, is to shield animals from exploitation, regardless of whether it is profitable or not, just as human rights law is designed to protect humans from becoming victims of exploitation, however lucrative it may be. But unlike human rights law, animal law cannot claim that states have a uniform and international commitment to unequivocally protect animals even if exploiting them is exceedingly profitable.4 Most states are afraid of losing tax-paying animal industries if they pass stricter animal laws and fear that their neighbor states will happily host these industries and pocket the cash.
The situation in animal law is akin to a prisoners’ dilemma. States could reap great benefits if they cooperated on matters of animal law, but they fail to do so because they find it difficult or expensive, or because they are afraid of free-riders. For example, Swiss parliament members are reluctant to prohibit invasive animal experiments because they fear the industry will relocate. In Germany, male baby chicks continue to be shredded alive by the poultry and egg industry because authorities believe that a ban on the practice will shift production abroad. Other states are reluctant to abolish the intense confinement of animals in agriculture because they fear these animals will be moved abroad and confined anyway.5
It makes sense that each state should want to ensure its economic returns, but from a collective point of view, this strategy is irrational as it leads to convergence toward a lower common denominator, also known as competition in laxity or race to the bottom.6 Even if legislators do not refer to economic calculi or flag fears of outsourcing, there is profound uncertainty across jurisdictions since states do not know the legal possibilities and limits of protecting animals whenever there is a cross-border relation involved. This leads to legislative inertia, or, as regulatory theorists call it, regulatory chill. Across the entire field of animal law, we are seeing impasses and retrenchments from commitments to protect animals, which stand in stark contrast to growing public demand that animals be granted a more stable and (p.403) protected legal status. The fact that states do not take this mandate seriously is detrimental to democracy because it proves that, at least in animal law, corporations have succeeded at circumventing the will of the people.7 But it is also alarming from the animals’ perspective, who do not have a say in any of these matters and are in extreme forms of vulnerability, not because of who they are but because the law makes them so.
Of the scholars who specialize in this field, most recognize that economic entanglement and interdependence have made it difficult for states to protect animals effectively, and argue that we need global governance schemes that regulate our duties toward animals in a uniform and consistent manner across the globe.8 This, they claim, eliminates the problem of free-riders and could be backed by international bodies that adjudicate these matters, which would bring about consistent enforcement. At the heart of these voices is an important recognition, namely, that the success of each state in protecting animals depends on its ability and willingness to engage in international coordination and cooperation. But they fail to recognize that it is unlikely states will be able to agree on an international treaty that establishes duties owed to animals or determines which state is competent to protect them.9 Even if a formal consensus can be put in writing, the result will almost certainly be painfully lax,10 and undesirable in the first place given the growing call for rooted cosmopolitanism.11
In this book, I considered the arguments for and implications of an alternative to international treaty-making that could help us narrow down, tackle, and potentially solve these issues: extraterritorial jurisdiction. I focused on extraterritorial jurisdiction as a state’s act of prescribing law across the border to people, events, or properties situated thereon in order to protect animals. I embedded extraterritorial jurisdiction as a part and necessary consequence (p.404) of broader developments like deterritorialization of state sovereignty, the acceptance of an entangled web of relationships that led to an approximation of state markets and policies, and the rise of a global consensus on the need to better protect animals. To prevent states from misusing terminological uncertainty about extraterritorial jurisdiction to advance their momentary interests, I established a definitional and conceptual framework of extraterritoriality. The framework helps to distinguish contentious claims to jurisdiction from legitimate ones and shows that the dichotomy between legal territorial and problematic extraterritorial jurisdiction is a false one.
Two tasks lay at the heart of this book. The first was to gain legal certainty about the many ways that states can use their laws to better protect animals within their borders. At its basis, the law of jurisdiction is intended to produce greater certainty about the breadth and limits of the prescriptive authority of states. This is urgently needed in animal law where legal insecurities about the power to protect animals in cases involving cross-border relations continue to prevent states from protecting animals. Eliminating these enables states to reliably determine when and how they can protect animals in cases that involve a wealth of cross-border relations. This empowers states to reclaim their compromised powers over animal issues and gives new impetus to animal rights and protection movements. But this is not the only benefit of the law of jurisdiction. The second task of this book was to explore reasonable ways to protect animals across the border. One of my central hypotheses was that the factual entanglement of people, property, and commerce cannot be sorted out if we rely on each state to meticulously apply its animal laws and enforce them on domestic territory. Factual entanglement calls for legal entanglement, i.e., extraterritorial jurisdiction. Tools of extraterritorial jurisdiction that states have available and readily use in criminal, human rights, commerce, banking, and antitrust law can also be used to protect animals across the border. These include indirect and direct forms of extraterritorial jurisdiction, bilateral or multilateral agreements, soft law, corporate social responsibility, reporting, impact assessments, and many more. In presenting these options, I made clear the urgency of moving beyond the presumption that animals are merely “regulated objects” in the law of jurisdiction. Animals are individual beings with their own lives to live, and as such deserve to be directly linked to a state’s jurisdiction, for example through functional nationality, which offers advantages like material consistency and temporal continuity in the law of jurisdiction. I have also determined the substantive standards needed to ensure extraterritorial jurisdiction can do justice to animals, including the need to work toward better outcomes for animals when law is applied across the border, claims for consistency, presumptions in favor of animals, the state duty to protect, and the corporate duty to respect animals. In the last chapter, I explored the legal limits of extraterritorial animal law and the means available to prevent, mitigate, and resolve conflicts that may emerge from it.
In this concluding chapter, I do not want to review these findings beyond what I just mentioned. Instead, I want to return to the structural challenges and the question of whether extraterritorial jurisdiction can help overcome them, by taking a broader multidisciplinary perspective. In particular, I want to critically evaluate whether the law of jurisdiction truly has the potential to bolster domestic efforts to protect animals, what social and societal risks (as opposed to legal risks) we run with this strategy, and whether we have options to mitigate these. The social and political sciences highlight three concerns. First, it is not obvious that moving away from territorial jurisdiction could create legal certainty and help fill regulatory (p.405) gaps. If anything, extraterritorial jurisdiction might increase insecurity about legal limits and confuse legislators, making it even more difficult for states to meaningfully protect animals. Second, animal law lacks the rich history and empirical experience necessary to apply it across the border with a good conscience. If we begin to apply animal laws across the border prematurely, we run the risk of exacerbating their problematic aspects and deficits, which are already surfacing at the domestic level. Third, many readers will be concerned that extraterritorial jurisdiction could awaken hidden notions of nationalism and promote the view that social, cultural, and legal values of one state can or should be imposed on the people of another, which would fuel fears of neocolonialism and Euro-American-centrism. Given the lack of state practice on the subject, I cannot counter these fears and concerns with empirical evidence that proves otherwise. I can offer an alternative viewpoint informed by the experience in many other areas of law where extraterritorial jurisdiction is fully established and plays an important role in regulating social life. I argue that extraterritorial jurisdiction, if properly set up and applied, creates a multitude of overlapping and concurring laws that reduce the likelihood of regulatory gaps in animal law. By forcing states to compare and reflect critically on their animal laws and practices, extraterritorial jurisdiction has the power to induce new ways of seeing and accepting cultural diversity, and can push states into a race to the top. In the remainder, I will elaborate on these claims.
Fear of outsourcing prompts states to roll back their regulatory achievements in animal law and adapt laws to the benefit of tax-paying and job-creating corporations. This is a cause for concern because these developments point to a more general failure of the law to regulate corporations, the most powerful of which make annual profits larger than the GDP of many countries.12 In animal law, agricultural industries are largely exempt from the law, or they create their own codes of conduct.13 In research, the industry itself sits on animal ethics committees to assess whether it complies with the law.14 This perverts justice by making corporations their own private legislators or allowing them to do what they wish to animals. And since corporations own most domesticated animals, anything done to them usually falls through the cracks of law. The situation in animal law is particularly despicable, but it is not the only field of law that succumbs to corporate power. We can see similar developments, from tax and business law to environmental and human rights law.15 These gaps have become a breeding ground for environmental pollution, human rights violations, accumulation (p.406) of corporate wealth at the expense of citizens, and, in animal law, cruelty done to animals on a massive institutional and systematic scale.16 We cannot solve these problems simply by asserting that creating laws for animals and fully enforcing them will help counter this development. Even under the best circumstances, territorially bound laws manifestly fail to deliver the results needed to halt competition in laxity, precisely because these laws are not applied across the border. There is an urgent need to hold corporations accountable for their many actions that evade the law. The extralegal sphere in which they operate must be superseded by extraterritorial jurisdiction to ensure accountability and responsibility for what is done to animals.17
Closing these gaps with extraterritorial jurisdiction, rather than through an international treaty, ensures that we do not adopt the lowest acceptable standards for animals but build on respectable achievements in animal law and gradually improve on them. It is true that applying laws extraterritorially does not always make it clear which state is competent to regulate a case, but instead of seeing this as a failure, we should recognize that this is the safest option available. It is safe because it leads to positive competency conflicts that result in various forms of overlapping jurisdiction. This is the best bet for animals because it ensures that what is done to them is going to be governed by at least some laws. The alternative scenario we have today is a prevalence of negative competency conflicts where no state considers itself responsible for protecting animals caught in cross-border production, trade, movement, and other ties.
The legal pluralism created by positive competency conflicts offers states an excellent opportunity to engage in cross-border comparisons of their laws. Many states wrongly believe that they have some of the best laws to protect animals because they lack the knowledge, expertise, exposure, and sensitivity needed to suggest otherwise. Today, states can cross-compare their levels of animal protection to determine if their laws are “off standard” and can use this information to improve their laws or even lead by example. The World Animal Protection Index (API) is a convenient tool for states to check the ranking of their animal laws against other countries. The factors the API uses for its assessment are the formal recognition of animal sentience, support for the Universal Declaration on Animal Welfare, government accountability, engagement with the OIE, providing humane education, promoting communication and awareness, laws that prohibit animal suffering, and laws that protect animals in farming, captivity, companionship, draught and recreation, scientific research, or in the wild.18 The Australian NGO Voiceless created another ranking system called the Voiceless Animal Cruelty Index (VACI), which focuses specifically on the welfare of land-farmed animals and ranks the harms states inflict on them. A country is ranked on the basis of three criteria: producing cruelty (the number of farmed animals they slaughter for (p.407) food every year), consuming cruelty (the number of farmed animals they consume), and sanctioning cruelty (their regulatory framework that protects, or fails to protect, farmed animals).19 If, under the extraterritoriality scheme, the laws of two or more states can claim to regulate the same matter, we could evaluate the strength of their interests in regulating the matter, the degree of factual entanglement, whether applying one or the other law would have adverse consequences, and which laws will help animals most, to decide which states’ laws must take precedence. States would begin to compare their laws more openly, and API and VACI rankings would help them determine whether they need to raise their laws to the level of their competitors. This is one way we could promote extraterritorial jurisdiction, but it does not go far enough.
The comparative analyses in this book made it clear that even the best animal laws simply clean up around the edges while missing the heart of the matter. Most of these laws simply enshrine and make legal the routine and systematic exploitation of animals. For example, condemning “unnecessary suffering” of animals does in no significant sense benefit animals. It makes the prima facie claim that animals are available for our use if we wish them to be, even if that use causes them extreme suffering, deprives them of lives worth living, and, ultimately, leads to their death. Rather than protecting animals, which is the mandate of animal law, these laws protect our use of animals. It is thus fair to say that animal law has not yet achieved much and has worked against animals by making them available for human use and rendering them vulnerable and disposable.20 The standard views and ranking systems of animal law are limited to this narrow thinking, and they tell us nothing about the broader shortcomings and the most urgent changes needed to live up to our commitment to protect animals as sentient and conscious co-inhabitants of this world.
If we were to set up a global ranking system that assesses countries based on factors that indicate where we want to go as a global multispecies society, the ranking system and the place occupied by countries would look radically different. Even those with the highest current level of animal law would find themselves occupying the lowest ranks, which would force them to realize that their levels of animal protection are much closer to each other than they thought, and much further away from what they should be. Although extraterritorial jurisdiction produces overlapping and concurring laws that facilitate cross-comparisons, these comparisons are no excuse for states to be complacent—not if we take seriously the claims animals have on us. These comparisons must instead prompt states to radically expand their current visions of animal law and engage seriously the growing call for interspecies justice.21
(p.408) The cross-comparisons that the law of extraterritoriality facilitates do not only unveil the biases and shortcomings of animal law in relation to animals but also in relation to humans. Many suspect extraterritorial jurisdiction will succumb to androcentric and Eurocentric power hierarchies. There is already a great deal of intersectional oppression in law, and cross-border governance exacerbates this danger by condemning only certain ways in which humans use and exploit animals while ignoring or even legitimating others. Chances that extraterritorial jurisdiction is used, consciously or not, to advance hidden agendas are so large that we might ultimately end up entitling majority cultures to oppress minorities. The West comes to the aid of the “uncivilized,” “savage” nations and shows them how animals are “properly” used, killed, and eaten.22 Instead of actually helping animals and guiding us toward a just interspecies society, extraterritorial animal law can keep us trapped in recurring cycles of discrimination and injustice.
But do the dangers of cultural imperialism and neocolonialism compel us to take a hands-off approach to extraterritorial jurisdiction? I believe we should not make the cursory assertion that extraterritorial jurisdiction never has a hidden racial or otherwise discriminatory agenda, nor should we jettison extraterritorial jurisdiction in toto and fully succumb to the law of the market. My claim, which may seem counterintuitive, is that by creating overlapping forms of jurisdiction, extraterritorial jurisdiction gives rise to legal pluralism that is conducive to multiculturalism and promotes the interests of animals. Deckha has pointed to the limited investigations at the interface of human and animal oppression, whose central question is: “Is multiculturalism bad for animals?”23 These are questions that put non-Western communities on the defensive and fail to acknowledge the many forward-thinking legal developments of the majority world that transcend the Western discourse of animal protection.24 Instead of generically declaring one culture superior to another, playing them off against each other, and holding on to an illusion of universal objectivity and neutrality, the global community would be better off embracing the dialogue that emerges when spheres of jurisdictions begin to intersect and overlap. Concurring forms of jurisdiction stimulate discourse that fosters multicultural sensibility, awareness of shared histories, and an understanding of the intersectional forms of oppression, including intersections of race and speciesism, of sexism and speciesism, and of ableism and speciesism.25 As such, concurring jurisdiction can uniquely encourage us to work toward curtailing, preventing, and eradicating (p.409) forms of oppression.26 Contrary to the belief of many, extraterritorial jurisdiction is thus not the enemy of multiculturalism, but an important ally to begin materializing its demands through law. For extraterritorial jurisdiction to succeed in this task it must, like the law in general, commit itself to listening to the perspectives of affected parties and consulting with them, to fully investigate the rights and wrongs of its own approaches, and to develop a sense of duty to do better.27 Only if this happens, can the legal pluralism that extraterritorial jurisdiction promises to spur become a unique opportunity for states to advance an agenda for respectful human-animal relationships.
Coming back to my initial claim that extraterritorial jurisdiction promises to change the dynamics of animal law for the better, both nationally and globally, I hope this book has shown exactly that. Extraterritorial jurisdiction is a promising new area of research, which has the potential to overcome the inertia and deregulation that characterize animal law to this day and to enable states to regain the regulatory capacity they need to fully protect animals at home and abroad. The international doctrine of jurisdiction has created an opportunity to abandon our archaic territorial conception of jurisdiction that binds individuals to it in an exclusive fashion and fences off other sovereigns. The territorial primacy a state might once have enjoyed over its regulatees left ample room for misuse by bereaving regulatees—who are at the mercy of this single regulator—of protection, welfare, and rights. The jurisdictional options presented herein offer a useful and meaningful alternative to these dystopian visions of animal law. They are particularly valuable to animals—more than to any other group that profits from extraterritorial jurisdiction—because animals, as the worldwide greatest number of regulatees, lack a voice in the formation of law and the opportunity to escape oppressive jurisdictional authority. Extraterritorial jurisdiction thus offers hope for the future of animal law.
But extraterritorial jurisdiction can only be as revolutionary as the substantive laws that apply across the border. If these are minimum standards, we merely skirt the edges of what is truly wrong with what we do to animals, and hence, extraterritorial jurisdiction risks not only losing its revolutionary potential but also becoming complicit in permanently subjugating the interests of animals to those of humans. Only if animals gain access to robust rights of protection, membership, and justice, will we have reason to believe that extraterritorial jurisdiction can succeed at creating a more just world for animals. And only if these laws simultaneously and fully respond to the caveats raised by postcolonial studies, can we ensure that human rights and animal rights are not played off against each other but work in tandem. These conditions may be delicate and the challenges they face difficult to overcome, but they demonstrate that there is a way forward, which should not be taken for granted. If carefully designed and implemented, with attention and the best intentions, extraterritorial jurisdiction can revolutionize domestic and international animal law the same way it has revolutionized human rights law. (p.410)
(2) Seminal: KINDLEBERGER 14–27 (1969).
(3) In this sense, see, e.g., Council Directive 2008/120, 2009 O.J. (L 47) 5, at 12; Council Directive 2007/43/EC, 2007 O.J. (L 182) 19, at 20.
(4) This gap is also noted by: Cunniff & Kramer, Developments in Animal Law, in THE GLOBAL GUIDE TO ANIMAL PROTECTION 230 (2013); Favre, An International Treaty for Animal Welfare, in ANIMAL LAW AND WELFARE 92 (2016); Peters, Global Animal Law 13 (2016).
(6) See for a general description of the dilemma: Peter P. Swire, The Race to Laxity and the Race to Undesirability: Explaining Failures in Competition Among Jurisdictions in Environmental Law, 14 YALE L. & POL’Y REV. 67, 89 (symposium issue 1996).
(7) As the work of Grear, Hornborg, Malm, and Mayer shows, intra- and interspecies inequalities have contributed significantly to the greatest economic and technological successes of corporations. Today, corporations are not only a central feature of the global order; they represent the “contemporary apotheosis” of the anthropos. See Anna Grear, Deconstructing Anthropos: A Critical Legal Reflection on “Anthropocentric” Law and Anthropocene “Humanity,” 26(3) LAW & CRITIQUE 225, 237–40 (2016); Andreas Malm & Alf Hornborg, The Geology of Mankind? A Critique of the Anthropocene Narrative, 1(1) ANTHROPOCENE REV. 62, 64 (2014); Carl J. Mayer, Personalising the Impersonal: Corporations and the Bill of Rights, 41 HASTINGS L.J. 577, 589 (1990).
(8) Consider in this respect the Universal Declaration on Animal Welfare of 2003, proposed by the World Society for the Protection of Animals, or the International Convention for the Protection of Animals of 1988, proposed by the International Fund for Animal Welfare. See for a discussion of these treaties, Blattner, The Potential and Potential Limits of International Law in Regulating Animal Matters (2015). Cf. Peters, Global Animal Law 20 (2016), who calls for a legal approach that combines a host of different norms, such as national, international, regional, state, and private regulation.
(9) In a seminal article on antitrust law, Guzman used an economic analysis to determine the likelihood that states would enter into an international treaty on jurisdictional matters. He hypothesized that economic incentives are the main motivation for states to sign or reject a treaty, and argued that finding common ground for a treaty will be difficult, if not impossible, when consumers and producers are unevenly distributed among states: Guzman (1998). Guzman’s probability analysis can be neatly extrapolated to animal law, because economic considerations play such an important role in its policymaking, and because a large portion of the world’s animal products is produced in the majority world.
(10) See further Charlotte E. Blattner, Can Extraterritorial Jurisdiction Help Overcome Regulatory Gaps of Animal Law? Insights from Trophy Hunting, 111 AJIL UNBOUND 419, 420 (2017).
(11) See further on rooted cosmopolitanism as an alternative to internationalization: Kymlicka & Walker, Rooted Cosmopolitanism, in ROOTED COSMOPOLITANISM 3 (2012).
(12) The NGO “Global Justice Now” ranks the world’s top 100 global economic entities based on their revenues but without regard to their form. The ranking reveals that 69 of the top 100 economic entities are corporations, not countries. Rank 10 is occupied by the first corporation, Walmart. Walmart, Apple, and Shell are all economically more powerful than Russia, Belgium, and Sweden: Global Justice, Corporations vs. Government Revenues, 2015 Data (2016), available at http://www.globaljustice.org.uk/sites/default/files/files/resources/corporations_vs_governments_final.pdf (last visited Jan. 10, 2019).
(14) See Mara-Daria Cojocaru & Philipp van Gall, Beyond Plausibility Checks: A Case for Moral Doubt in Review Processes of Animal Experimentation, in ANIMAL EXPERIMENTATION: WORKING TOWARDS A PARADIGM CHANGE 289 (Kathrin Herrmann & Kimberley Jayne eds., 2019).
(15) For many, see Charlotte E. Blattner & Odile Ammann, Animal Agriculture and Farmer Rights in Light of International Human Rights Law (forthcoming 2019).
(16) In 2017, the number of land animals killed for food exceeded 69 billion, including 66 billion chickens, 1.5 billion pigs, 1 billion sheep and goats, and 300 million cows: FAOSTAT (search criteria “World”+“Meat total”+“Producing Animals/Slaughtered”+“2017,” available at http://faostat.fao.org/ (last visited Jan. 10, 2019).
(17) Also in other fields of law “direct extraterritorial jurisdiction has been recognised as useful in closing regulatory and accountability gaps, and delivering justice.” (Zerk, EXTRATERRITORIAL JURISDICTION 10 (2010)).
(19) Voiceless, The Voiceless Animal Protection Index (2019), available at https://vaci.voiceless.org.au/about-the-vaci/ (last visited Jan. 10, 2019). Also ALDF offers rankings of animal protection laws, focused on US states: Animal Legal Defense Fund, 2018 U.S. Animal Protection Laws State Rankings, available at https://aldf.org/project/2018-us-state-rankings/ (last visited Jan. 10, 2019).
(20) Lori Gruen, Disposable Captives, OUP BLOG, Apr. 10, 2014: “Death is a natural part of life, and perhaps we would do well to have a less fearful, more accepting attitude about death. But those who purposefully bring about premature death run the risk of perpetuating the notion that some lives are disposable.”
(21) See for recent work on interspecies justice: ALASDAIR COCHRANE, SENTIENTIST POLITICS: A THEORY OF GLOBAL INTER-SPECIES JUSTICE (2018); DONALDSON & KYMLICKA (2011); GARNER & O’SULLIVAN EDS. (2016); Marilyn Matevia, Justice for All: Revisiting the Prospects for a Biocommunitarian Theory of Interspecies Justice, 19(3) J. INT’L WILDLIFE L. & POL’Y 189 (2016); Heather McLeod-Kilmurray, Commoditizing Nonhuman Animals and Their Consumers: Industrial Livestock Production, Animal Welfare, and Ecological Justice, 32(1) BULL. SCI., TECH. & SOC’Y 71 (2012); Marcel Wissenburg & David Schlosberg EDS., POLITICAL ANIMALS AND ANIMAL POLITICS (2014); Andrew Woodhall & Gabriel Garmendia da Trindade EDS., ETHICAL AND POLITICAL APPROACHES TO NONHUMAN ANIMAL ISSUES (2017); Rafi Youatt, Interspecies Relations, International Relations: Rethinking Anthropocentric Politics, 43(1) MILLENNIUM J. INT’L STUD. 207 (2014).
(23) E.g., Paula Casal, Is Multiculturalism Bad for Animals, 1(1) J. POL. PHIL. 1 (2003).
(24) Deckha refers in particular to the legal developments in India: Maneesha Deckha, Is Multiculturalism Good for Animals?, in MULTICULTURALISM, RACE AND ANIMALS 61, 64, 70 ff. (2017). See also KIM (2015).
(25) See for an intersectional analysis of race and speciesism: KO & KO (2017). See for an intersectional analysis of ableism and speciesism: TAYLOR (2017). See for an intersectional analysis of patriarchy and speciesism: ADAMS & GRUEN EDS. (2015).
(26) Deckha makes this argument about multiculturalism in general, not with regard to extraterritorial jurisdiction: Deckha, Is Multiculturalism Good for Animals?, in MULTICULTURALISM, RACE AND ANIMALS 61, 87 (2017).
(27) Deckha 223 (2007). See also Kymlicka & Donaldson, Animal Rights and Aboriginal Rights, in CANADIAN PERSPECTIVES ON ANIMALS AND THE LAW 177 (2015): “This requires conscious efforts at inclusion, dialogue, cross-cultural learning and listening, a commitment to consistency and self-reflective inquiry, epistemic humility, and the avoidance of tokenism, essentialism and exoticism. We are far from having these preconditions in place.”