Eating Apes (California Studies in Food and Culture) First Edition

What animals we eat are selected by what culture we grow up in. Distant societies think nothing of eating dogs. Some closer ones think eating horse is completely acceptable. Then there are frogs, snakes, and insect larvae. It is all a matter of getting enough protein. One man's protein is another man's atrocity. Americans are used to eating meat they find in Styrofoam trays wrapped in plastic, but the indigenous peoples of central Africa have always eaten the animals living around them: elephants, antelopes, porcupines, rodents, and so on. They don't mind a stew of gorilla or a chimp's sirloin, and what of it? It's the way they have always done things. Tribal languages, in fact, often use the same word for wild animal as they do for meat. The world, however, is not the way it always was, and a shocking book, _Eating Apes_ (University of California Press) by Dale Peterson, shows that apes on the menu is not something the world ought to continue to accept.
We ourselves are members of the tribe of great apes; chimpanzees, bonobos, gorillas, and orangutans are on the branch with us. But if African tribes don't share our scientific view or our squeamishness, traditional hunters, in predation balance over the centuries, surely are not going to do lasting harm. Traditional hunting, however, is no longer traditional. There has been an invasion from outside the continent by logging companies, making huge profits from our demand for hardwoods. The companies have lots of workers, many of them from the region, and all the workers have to be fed. Hunters, many of whom are also from the region, are hired to bring in the protein. Bows, arrows, and nets have given way to the far more efficient and deadly wire snares and automatic rifles and shotguns. Perhaps if greater firepower were the only threat to our primate cousins, they could still make it. But we are destroying their habitat (again, mostly by logging), and primates will suffer before other species because of their slow rate of reproduction. There are plenty of species headed toward extinction, but few because we are eating them, and none so close to us evolutionarily. In addition, butchering the apes may be the way humans got HIV and Ebola viruses. It may well be that you haven't heard of the problem of eating apes into extinction because the conservation organizations are keeping quiet about such a downer of a message, and because they are, believe it or not, in partnership with the loggers.
What will be needed is the courage to challenge cultural convictions. It is possible for the West to value (or at least claim to value) sensitivity to other cultures, but in the case of eating apes, it will have to impose scientific knowledge of close kinship, risk of disease, and impending loss of primates to get the native cultures to change. It may even be possible within the corporate culture, which mines habitats to get at profits, to insist not just on sustainable development (a nebulous idea the logging companies pay lip service to) but to take on a wider view of environmental improvement. You can figure up the odds of occurrence of these cultural changes, and especially if you look at our past record, you will not be optimistic. Peterson includes an appendix of what you, and what conservation organizations, can do; he obviously is not giving up hope. Perhaps it is a sign of hope that his reasonable and dispassionate account of this disaster will start many people thinking about the previously covert problem of the loss of the apes. Nevertheless, this is a profoundly disturbing and sad book, and will not be forgotten by those who can get through it.

Sometime far in our past, humans took up rocks and sticks to hunt food instead of scavenging from other predators. With our meat available today in shrink-wrapped containers it's easy to lose sight of that long-standing tradition. Others in the world still obtain meat in the traditional environment. The difference is that instead of spears, the weapons are high-powered shotguns. Instead of skulking through the forest seeking prey, hunters are now given rides by timber carriers using deep-penetrating access roads. In this book, Dale Peterson reveals the transformations forest hunting has undergone in West African nations. It's not a
pleasing picture, but it's valid and it's important. And it must change.
The bushmeat trade has many implications, but Peterson has chosen three significant ones. One, of course, is that by killing chimpanzees, bonobos and gorillas for food, we're consuming our nearest relations. The primate line divided only 12 million years ago, with the descendants of one line becoming today's mountain gorillas. The other line led to chimpanzees and bonobos with a spur turning off about 7 million years ago leading to you and me. The proximity of chimpanzee and human DNA patterns is no longer news, but the reminder needs to be flashed occasionally.
Another implication is health. With so much attention given to the HIV/AIDS pandemic, it's worth reflecting on its origins. More importantly, as Peterson reminds us, is to consider how it works. HIV/AIDS appears to be a recent evolutionary virus quirk. It adapts and evolves with amazing speed. The roots of it remain in the African forest and a new strain can emerge at any time. The best means of transmission from ape or monkey to human is through blood - that stuff the hunter is soaked in as he butchers his forest kill.
The third theme is the question of human relations with the rest of our environment. Human population growth is presented in a novel framework. How many humans come into existence every day is contrasted with the great ape population. Peterson calculates that the entire gorilla population is equalled by new humans every twelve hours. Population pressures in the "developed" world lead to demands for African timber products. In turn, the timber firms are cutting great swaths of forest using displaced populations for labour. To feed these workers, hunters are hired or loggers hunt and apes, due to their availability and size, become a major food source. In a feedback cycle of habitat reduction and hunting, the apes are simply being exterminated. Recovery would require sharply reduced logging. Peterson notes that trees are being taken that began growth in Michaelangelo's time, but their replacements will be cut in only forty years.
Peterson is effusive in his description of the significant role played by Swiss photographer Karl Ammann. Ammann's chance encounter with a logging truck driver revealed the role international logging firms play in the ape slaughter and the extended bushmeat trade. The logging firms, particularly CIB, contend they are providing "employment for locals, health services, food and education". Peterson explains the falsity of this contention, with "health services limited to a nurse and schools and teachers paid for by the workers' families.
Peterson argues that the long-established bushmeat tradition is already lost, displaced by commercial logging practices and new, mass hunting methods using guns, sometimes lent by government officials. If we can change a culture, such as was done with slavery, hunting traditions no longer tenable can be modified, as well. He cites the willingness of Americans to spend minimal annual funds to protect wolves, bears and other fauna. Why not establish a fund for ape protection. He calculates that US$1 billion per year could be raised with an individual contribution of but US$50. Not an enormous sum, given that other donations and military expenditures far exceed it. [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]

American and international conservation organizations may be doing little more than feel-good guilt assuaging with many of their slick magazine glossy photos, while ignoring a huge elephant right in front of the world's faces and refusing to show readers the problem.

So says Peterson in the challenging and disturbing book Eating Apes.

Peterson writes about the hunting for bushmeat in Central Africa, specifically hunting great apes - gorillas, chimpanzees and bonobos. He accuses the Wildlife Conservation Society of doing little more than giving PR flak to a German logging concern in the Congo, CIB, a decade ago, just at the time public pressure was starting to ratchet up on the issue, in large part due to photographer Karl Ammann.

He also accuses Wildlife Conservation, the magazine of WCS, along with National Geographic and other such magazines and other media for generally downplaying or even spiking the issue. Ammann, as interviewed in the book, is even blunter, noting how several wildlife conservation magazines said they didn't want his pictures specifically because they were too controversial and, in not so many words, too guilt-provoking while showing that the modern western-nation wildlife preservation industry wasn't wearing any clothes on this issue.

Read Eating Apes. Then rethink your donations to wildlife groups, at least without some strong letters to the editor.