(1)
(A Letter to _The Times_, 1910.)
The experience which has just befallen the 300 horses and ponies
imprisoned underground during the strike riots at Clydach Vale spurs me
to an appeal to all owners of collieries and mines to abandon, _as far
as possible_ the use of horses and ponies below ground.
The question of the treatment of pit ponies has of late attracted much
attention, and is under examination by the Royal Commission on Mines.
Into discussion of the truth of particular stories of cruelty I do not
intend to enter. I have no first-hand knowledge, and, short of becoming
a pit-pony driver, or mine inspector, no real chance of obtaining any. I
wish simply to draw the attention of owners and managers of collieries
and mines to certain considerations that need not in the least hurt a
just belief in their own humanity or that of their employees.
Apart from the aberrations of human brutes, who flourish as well above
ground as below, cruelty in these days is not deliberate, but requires
for its existence three primary fostering conditions: the first, an
overdriven or irritated state of nerves; the second, secrecy; the third,
a helpless object.
The first of these conditions is always more or less present in mine
work, not only because of the atmosphere and unnatural environment, but
also because a certain amount of work has to be got through under
difficulties in a certain amount of time. The second of these conditions
is always present to a greater extent than almost anywhere above ground.
The third of these conditions is obviously present. In mines and
collieries, therefore, we have human nature, neither better nor worse
underground than it is above, working continually under circumstances in
which the three primary fostering conditions of cruelty are present. We,
thus have a _primâ facie_ case for supposing—all other things being
equal—that there must be more cruelty in the treatment of animals
underground than on the surface. If there were not, it would mean that
miners were not only as humane as the rest of mankind, which is freely
admitted, but much more humane, which is not likely. The existence of
these three primary fostering conditions in perpetual combination, in
fact, renders the conclusion, apart from all actual evidence, as
inevitable as a chemical equation.
But far beyond all this we have the fact that herbivorous animals,
accustomed to daylight and fresh air, are kept from the age of four to
the age at which they are about to die in a place where no green thing
of any sort can grow, where the air is strange and dark, and there is
neither rain nor sunshine. And, further, we have those occasional
catastrophes, such as that which so nearly did to death the unfortunate
300 horses in Clydach Vale.
One assumes as a matter of course that mine owners are as personally
humane in their treatment of animals as the rest of us; that they do not
lack desire to see that their ponies and horses underground are treated
well; that they would recoil from the sight of neglectful treatment of
four-legged creatures that came under their own eyes. I merely appeal to
them to consider, apart from the breezes and contradictions of a vexed
question, the plain common sense of the matter. There are, no doubt,
thousands of well-fed, well-treated, well-kept ponies employed in pits;
but with human nature and animal nature fixed quantities, and the
conditions what they are, must there not inevitably be far more
suffering, on the whole, in their lives underground than in the lives of
animals employed on the surface? The heart of the matter lies in the
unnatural conditions.
Small engines are used with success both here and abroad for some kinds
of mine traction. For other kinds of mine traction animals may always
have to be employed—though that is a hard saying, seeing what human
ingenuity can accomplish. But surely a great deal more of the traction
in English collieries and mines could be done by engines with safety and
economy. Is it too much to beg kindly men that they should do their
utmost to substitute, so far as possible, this mechanical traction for
the labour of those four-legged creatures whose lives underground must,
even in the best circumstances, be unnatural and sad.
It is no more desirable for human beings than for animals to have to
spend their lives underground; and what men can put up with animals
certainly can. But men have at all events some choice in the matter, and
they do spend half the week at least on the surface.
The unnatural conditions of our own lives do not justify us in employing
animals under unnatural conditions where we can avoid it. I take it we
all wish to see suffering reduced to its irreducible minimum.
(2)
(A Letter to _The Times_, 1913.)
The inspectors appointed to carry out the provisions of the Coal Mines
(Regulation) Act in regard to pit ponies are to be six in number: one
for each division in the United Kingdom, which contains 3,325 coal
mines.
I understand that this provision is based on the grounds that the
ordinary mine inspectors, of whom there are many, will not be thereby
absolved from that part of their duties; and that the multiplication of
officials is an expensive and undesirable thing.
I wish to point out that the ordinary inspectors will, almost to a man,
feel that the appointment of special inspectors, in regard to a
particular branch of their duties, relieves them from what is a very
thankless job. It is only human nature not to want to spy on one’s own
kind if one is not absolutely obliged.
Under the ordinary system of inspection, the figures for the year 1907
give only twenty-two prosecutions for cruelty to animals, underground,
in the United Kingdom. Taking the boys and men employed in mines as
average kindly folk, neither more nor less given to cruelty than the
rest of us, this number of prosecutions would work out, relatively to
opportunity, at extraordinarily below the number of prosecutions above
ground. And we can only deduce from this the fact that the conditions in
mines are such that acts which above ground would lead to prosecution
pass unnoticed underground.
I do beg the Home Secretary to reconsider this aspect of the
question—that is to say, the certainty that the appointment of special
inspectors of animals will in practice bring a feeling of absolution to
the ordinary inspector from the duty of reporting on animals.
For, if this is admitted, the number of six special inspectors is shown
to be ludicrous. It means about two mines a day all the year round for
each inspector. Those of us who have been down coal mines know how
perfunctory such inspection must be.
It is certainly undesirable to multiply officials without due cause; but
there really is a point of common sense and compromise which will hardly
be reached even if twelve instead of six special inspectors are
appointed.
The new regulations are admirably wide and directed to bettering the
lives of these unfortunate little beasts; for, putting everything at the
best, they remain unfortunate compared with their brethren above ground.
But these regulations will want a lot of looking after, especially at
first, if they are not to be a dead letter.
The great bulk of our material comfort comes out of our coal mines;
surely we can spare a little more of it than this to guarantee so far as
we can the welfare of the ponies.