Hello, I’m Shelley Tremain and I’d like to welcome you to the forty-second installment of Dialogues on Disability, the series of interviews that I’m conducting with disabled philosophers and post here on the third Wednesday of each month. The series is designed to provide a public venue for discussion with disabled philosophers about a range of topics, including their philosophical work on disability; the place of philosophy of disability vis-à-vis the discipline and profession; their experiences of institutional discrimination and personal prejudice in philosophy, in particular, and in academia, more generally; resistance to ableism, racism, sexism, and other apparatuses of power; accessibility; and anti-oppressive pedagogy.
I acknowledge that the land on which I sit to conduct these interviews is the traditional territory of the Haudensaunee and Anishnaabeg, covered by the Upper Canada Treaties and directly adjacent to Haldiman Treaty territory. I offer these interviews with respect and in the spirit of reconciliation.
My guest today is Lori Gruen. Lori is the William Griffin Professor of Philosophy at Wesleyan University in Connecticut, where she also coordinates Wesleyan Animal Studies. These days, when she isn’t thinking about disabled animals, mass incarceration, and problems of captivity and possibilities of sanctuary, Lori hangs out with her companions, Taz and Zinnia, kayaks, cooks vegan food, worries about climate change, and wishes that she had better luck gardening.
Welcome to Dialogues on Disability, Lori! You are a leading feminist philosopher who has taken a somewhat circuitous and unconventional path in your career. Please tell us about your background and how it led to your current position in the discipline and profession.
Thanks so much for inviting me to be interviewed for your fantastic series, Shelley. I have found your interviews insightful and inspiring. I really appreciate the important interventions that you have urged to highlight what is overlooked in our profession. Occlusions and exclusions have been very motivating for me and my work, but they have also caused me to question my place in the profession.
I went through both my undergraduate years and my first stint in graduate school without having the opportunity to take any courses taught by a woman. While I really like to argue (as my friends point out a bit too often) and that kept me going in philosophy for a period of time, I grew frustrated with the abstraction and distance from real problems in the world. I imagine that might have been different if I had at least one class in feminist philosophy. Fortunately, in one of my undergraduate classes, I was introduced to animal ethics and, in graduate school, I became involved in animal activism.
I organized a protest against experiments on greyhounds at the Medical School at the University of Arizona, where I had a graduate fellowship, and a picture of me being carried away by police appeared on the front page of the campus paper.
[Description of image below: A newspaper clipping about Lori's arrest and removal. In the photo of the clipping, two armed police officers are carrying Lori, one on each side of her, each with a hand under one of her knees and the other hand behind her back. Text under the photo describes the events.]
I got the sense that the faculty of the Philosophy Department weren’t happy about this. Keith Lehrer, who at the time was chair of the department, called me into his office and told me that I should really decide whether I wanted to study philosophy or try to change the world. Having read Marx, I had hoped that doing philosophy could change the world—and still believe it can—but left graduate school and moved to the Washington, D.C. area to try to make a difference.
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) was just getting started, and I was invited to move into a house with the founders of the organization, Ingrid Newkirk and Alex Pacheco, to help mount campaigns to reveal the horrible conditions that billions of animals have to endure in laboratories and factory farms. Those early years in the animal rights movement were pretty exciting.
But, as that organization grew, my interests and their interests increasingly grew apart. I was working on a campaign that brought me in contact with members of the blind community, many of whom use seeing eye dogs, which raised really interesting and challenging questions for me about animal use. There were some uncomfortable discussions around that at PETA and eventually some decisions were made with which I didn’t agree. So, I left to start doing what we now would call more “intersectional” activism—still focused on our relationships with animals, but also on homelessness, racism, and sexism.
After several years, I began missing philosophy and decided to return to graduate school to study feminist philosophy. Alison Jaggar had just moved to University of Colorado at Boulder, so I moved to Colorado to work with her there. I also worked with Dale Jamieson, who originally introduced me to animal ethics.
I feel very fortunate that I have been employed and able to teach and write about topics that I care about in practical ethics and political philosophy, topics that include animals, of course, but I have also been able to work on ecofeminist philosophy, some philosophy of science and technology, and also philosophy of race and racism. Over the last decade or so, I have helped to develop the field of Animal Studies, that, contrary to my early experience in graduate school, recognizes, even celebrates, the value of activism to scholarship and scholarship to activism.
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