A few weeks ago, seven chimpanzees arrived at a Cle Elum sanctuary built specifically for their “retirement” from biomedical research.  These chimpanzees had been held in small, single-occupant, windowless cages in the basement of the Buckshire Corporation in Perkasie, Pennsylvania.  Through the actions of generous individuals and PETA, these chimpanzees will now live out their lives in a large enclosure, with access to the outdoors and daily social contact with one another, a quality of life that they have never before experienced, not even on a limited basis. Their arrival in Washington State signifies a milestone not only for these animals but also for our society:  we finally have begun to take responsibility for the mistreatment of our closest cousins.

Ever since Jane Goodall recorded the complex social behavior of chimpanzees in the wild, we have learned that chimpanzees are more like us than we had thought.  In the past year alone, studies have shown that chimpanzees can outperform human undergraduates in short term memory recall, empathize with others, self-medicate to fight off malaria, and create definite individual cultures that migrating individual adopt, much the way a human immigrant learns the culture of his new country.  We know that chimpanzees laugh, play, grieve, deceive, and communicate.  They share some of our darker side by engaging in warfare, murder, social ostracism, and dirty politics.  They are so similar in genetic make-up and general behavior that the venerable Smithsonian has placed them and the other great apes in the hominid family.  In the past, this genetic proximity made chimpanzees desirable substitutes for humans in biomedical research; however, their humanness was conveniently ignored in favor of a detached view of what their biological systems could simulate.  They were reduced to internal organs and blood work.  Fortunately, as we learn more about non-human sentience and the emotional side of primates, an increasing number of citizens are speaking out about such treatment.

The “Cle Elum Seven,” as the chimps are being called, were the final residents remaining in the Buckshire Corporation’s basement. Since the 1970s, countless chimpanzees–– including Ally, a one-time friend of the late Washoe, who also could communicate using American Sign Language––have passed through or perished in this biomedical research facility. Their presence was largely unknown, both nationally and within the local community, since the chimps remained confined deep within the walls. They endured experimental surgeries, injections of diseases including hepatitis and AIDS, and other health-compromising procedures.  Even when they were not being actively used for experiments, they remained in isolation despite their intense need for social interaction.  The result of such treatment was mental and physical illness.  Like human prisoners of war, they broke under the stress of their daily mistreatment. Although all that has ended for the Cle Elum Seven, we cannot undo what has already been inflicted.  Even worse, the Buckshire chimps were not alone in their situation; as of this writing, an estimated 1200 of these animals remain in biomedical laboratories, most hidden from public view. However, the rescue of these seven individuals has given animal welfare advocates hope that other private companies will follow suit by eliminating their non-human primate research programs, especially as public pressure increases.

We are moving away, albeit slowly, from believing that we have the right to use these animals for our own gains.  The recent NIH moratorium on breeding chimpanzees for future research promises to gradually phase out the majority of these experiments since the “supply” of chimpanzees will eventually come to an end.  Congress has passed bills creating sanctuaries for retired apes and to ensure that they will never again be used for invasive research.  Unfortunately, since private companies like Buckshire are not obligated to do the same, they may continue their practices indefinitely, unknown to the rest of us.  However, if we care about the ethical treatment of these animals, we must remain both vigilant and outspoken.  The more we learn more about animal intelligence, the less sense it makes to treat these animals as though we had not learned anything at all.

Critics may not change the minds of those who objectify these animals but, at the very least, we must convince such facilities that the disadvantages of using apes outweighs the advantages. We still have much work to do to eliminate the inhumane treatment of these socially, intellectually, and emotionally complex individuals, but the rescue of the Cle Elum Seven signifies progress. The end may not be near, but it is in sight.

Read about Captivity, Debbie Lee Wesselmann’s newest novel about the beleaguered director of a chimpanzee sanctuary.

Read other blogs by Wesselmann about chimpanzees: a tribute to Washoe and a discussion of the legal standing of chimpanzees.

Copyright 2008 by Debbie Lee Wesselmann