" Having devoted much of my research in past years to the historical dynamics of social change, I was intrigued by what seemed to be an inexplicable anomaly. In most altruistic endeavors, those closest to the suffering are the loudest and most persistent voices for change — eager to pursue creative risks for life, as the eyes of the victims are daily reminders of the miles left to travel. Regrettably, I saw precious little of this openness and urgency among the shelter leadership. I draw this conclusion not only on the basis of my personal experience, but from an extensive review of the literature prior to writing "Mercy." To my amazement, I was unable to locate a single article in a shelter publication that raised fundamental questions vis-a-vis policies and programs.

This conformity of thought and dismissive attitude toward "outsiders" who challenge the prevailing values saddened me, as these very same leaders should have been climbing the highest mountaintops — railing not against their critics, but at a populace that condones the killing of millions upon millions of healthy beings as an acceptable means of population control. How I agonized, could animal advocates arrive at an emotional and ethical place that allows them to participate in a process whereby their friends are killed in the name of kindness — providing the larger society with a free pass in terms of moral culpability, as humane societies obligingly "clean up the mess."

I hasten to add that the early pioneers in our movement were courageous in their efforts for homeless animals, and I have an abiding respect for them. It was a different era, and holding their values to contemporary standards would clearly be unfair. Equally important, the thousands of compassionate shelter workers who presently work in the trenches under difficult circumstances have my deepest admiration. My concerns are solely addressed to a leadership that I respectfully submit has followed, not led, and the reasons are as varied as they are complex. Within the limitations of space, what follows is an attempt to shed some light on the underlying dynamics that have impeded innovation.

The crucial historical process for humane leaders was moving from compassionate oversight of governmental agencies to directly operating the majority of kill shelters. Motivated by the best of intentions, they sought to improve conditions and provide gentler ends to tragic lives by assuming the traditional animal control functions. They didn't foresee the damaging long-term effects of devoting most of their energy to collection, processing, and killing, leaving sparse resources for bold preventive measures; nor did they realize the devastating consequences of the mixed-message they were sending to society about the value of non-human life; and, most significant to this analysis, they couldn't have known what they were doing to themselves — and to all who followed them in subsequent years.

Bountiful research exists on the profound effects of taking another life, even when that behavior is sanctioned by law — such as in war. In these forms of state-sponsored violence, those perpetrating the acts rarely know the victims and virtually never have deep feelings for them. This is obviously not the case in animal shelters operated by humane societies, and placing the caring and disparity between word and deed not only makes a mockery out of animal rights, but it sends a message that life is cheap.

Given this kind of reinforcement to the "killing them kindly" mentality by prominent animal rights figures, it is hardly realistic to expect shelters to serve as — using the business vernacular — change agents. Quoting from the aforementioned Disposable Animals: "Self-congratulatory for accomplishment, self-exculpatory for failure, [shelter leaders] present it all as operating under inexorable and probably eternal necessity. That same voice has been heard for decades. Meanwhile, perhaps 30,000 dogs and cats are killed in shelters every day, seven days a week." Companion animals have been waiting in vain for a war to be waged by activists on their behalf — not the tiptoeing-through the-tulips that characterizes our current efforts, but hard-hitting and relentless campaigns to thoroughly stigmatize the culprits.

It is often stated that the public is indifferent to this tragedy, but that is precisely what was said about drunk driving, cigarette smoking, and a myriad of other social issues before intense and unremitting pressure was brought to bear. People are initially unresponsive to most issues that fail to touch them personally, not simply because they lack adequate information, but because they either disagree with the position stated or just don't care. It is our responsibility to make them care. We have reached the public with "cute and cuddly" spay/ neuter messages for decades, but, without the necessary stigma to fundamentally alter entrenched behavior patterns. With no price to pay in terms of social censure, people continue having litters of animals with little regard for the devastating consequences. We must sharply raise the price, stigmatizing irresponsibility to such a degree that social condemnation is its constant companion.

Our outreach efforts must be commensurate with the magnitude of the carnage, articulating a message that leaves nothing to the imagination. In the midst of a silent holocaust, anything less is inadequate and we need to move light years beyond the present euphemisms and explicitly convey the public's complicity in the slaughter. Let them see that we will continue to express our outrage until this nation becomes so uncomfortable with the blood on its hands that it finally ends the madness.