Take a moment to read this image.
**In case it the fine print is difficult to read, it says, "According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, animal research has helped extend our life expectancy by 23.5 years. Of course, how you choose to spend those extra years is up to you."
Foundation for Biomedical Research (FBR) is an organization founded during the early 1980s to promote animal research. It was around this time that the animal rights movement was starting to build momentum. When I first encountered this image, I was struck by how easily the FBR was able to “play it cool.” Not only does the FBR acknowledge that its research has served its enemies well, it does not really care if they spend those extra 23.5 years angrily protesting. The FBR does not seem interested in getting all flustered over their enemies.
This image is striking to me because the FBR’s unwillingness to argue with the activists effectively stonewalls any animal rights counterargument. Instead, it opens the protesters up to ridicule for fighting against something that has improved their lives. A reasonable question to ask, then, is: How is someone supposed to argue against an image such as this? By all accounts, if one has faith in science and wants to live longer, it is pretty compelling.
I think one can effectively counter-argue this poster by revealing how it presents a “cool hand.” To begin with, the credibility of the scientists is bolstered by their precision—note that they have added 23.5 years, not 23 or 24—despite the fact that no one, save, perhaps, very young children reply that they are “[x] and a half” years old. For adults half a year, age-wise is rarely given any consideration. The image itself also serves to bolster the FBR’s credibility in several ways. First, the accusations on the pickets are rather mild. “Animal research” carries far less charge for moral outrage than vivisection. Initially, vivisection referred to experimentation on live animals, basically cutting up dogs to see how the blood pumped through their veins and arteries, but now it is frequently used to describe any form of animal testing. Not only are the accusations rather mild, they are all verbal. Typically, animal activists employ images of suffering animals to advance their argument. Yet, none of the signs contain a picture of a suffering animal. Thus, the scientists are able to render the animals invisible, and by extension, their experimentation. By not depicting animals, experiments, or even the scientists themselves, the FBR allows viewers to concentrate on the group of animal activists, who are pushing against a police line with its partially visible words, “Do not cross.” Thus, our 1st Amendment right notwithstanding, this image suggests that animal activists are dangerous to (American) society. But it is a qualified danger; the ridicule that the image opens the activists suggests that they are naive. Finally, there is the FBR’s use of a black and white photograph instead of color. By using black and white, the image creates a distancing effect between the viewer and the subject, thereby making the activists more difficult to identify with.
Ultimately, by understanding how the FBR builds its own ethos while dismantling that of the animal rights activists, one can recognize the FBR’s poster for what it is—a “cool hand.”
(Note: To be sure, I do not want to claim that animal rights activists possess a monopoly on truth. Rather, I am more interested in how the FBR manages to construct a powerful ethos.)
In 2003, American poster companies airbrushed the Beatles’ iconic Abbey Road album. The reason? To remove Paul’s barely recognizable cigarette. While this was, perhaps, an overzealous move by anti-smoking campaigners, it reflects our society’s recognition that popular culture can promote smoking as a fun, cool lifestyle. Moreover, it reflects an “out-of-sight-out-of-mind” approach for combating the cigarette industry. This approach is often taken to prevent impressionable young adults from smoking. Last week I was pleasantly surprised to see another approach in a Daredevil comic I chanced upon at a book sale. Instead of hiding cigarettes, the artist confronts readers with them as a group of smokers are surrounded by fragments of Surgeon General’s Warnings found on cigarette cartons. Compared to the visuals throughout the rest of the issue, this panel also contains the greatest use of drab, grimy colors. Not a very pleasant picture. While confronting the public with the dangers of smoking instead of hiding them is not unique (indeed, the Surgeon General’s Warning is one example), using the Surgeon General’s Warnings as cigarette smoke and ashes promotes a visual literacy in readers. Whereas one may ignore the cigarette carton’s warning label as soon as she pockets the carton, specters of the warning remain, haunting the smokers. Thus, readers are invited to see the Surgeon General’s Warning as not merely a label to ignore as soon as it is out of sight, but intrinsically linked with smoking itself. In short, the warning is unavoidable.
