The crowd gathers, wrapped in thick coats and scarves, the crisp air mingling with the scent of hot chocolate and warm smoke from the bonfire. Children sit on their parents’ shoulders, eyes wide with anticipation, as the first crackle in the sky is met with an appreciative cheer. As more fireworks light up the sky, the excitement begins to wane. Each pop and bang elicit fewer reactions, and the comfort of shared laughter and idle chit-chat begins to take hold. Soon enough, the fireworks become little more than a backdrop to the real joy of the evening – familiar faces and easy conversation.
Sheltered in our homes, a very different scene unfolds: our pets shaking, crying, attempting to escape
Sheltered in our homes, a very different scene unfolds: our pets shaking, crying, attempting to escape. It’s a 5 November tradition that’s as predictable as it is distressing. The UK is home to 13.5 million dogs; around 6.75 million are visibly scared of fireworks. As a result, these dogs can sustain physical injuries, suffer from prolonged anxiety, and even have shorter lifespans.
In my household, the only remedy for our dog, Mollie, is the deep, monotonous drone of the tumble-dryer – understandably, she prefers the machine’s humming to sporadic explosions or, her former therapy, the cheerless melodies of Starsailor. Mollie’s experience isn’t exceptional; each year, the RSPCA receives hundreds of complaints about fireworks. But household pets are only the tip of the flame. Once the bonfires are lit, countless wild animals are thrown into a warzone without humans and tumble-dryers to keep them safe.
Fireworks can make panicked horses collide with fences, birds scatter in distress, and foxes abandon their cubs. Although limited, the scientific literature paints a pretty clear picture: human-made noise is ‘detrimental to wildlife and natural ecosystems’ and impacts the overwhelming majority of species.
When we inflict pain and suffering on animals – when owls are caged and dolphins harpooned – we experience empathy and concern. Something about these acts strikes us as wrong. It’s the job of philosophers to understand what, if anything, makes them wrong. Like Guy Fawkes, our ancestors were enthusiastically religious – humans from the heavens, our fellow creatures from the dirt – but we know better now. We come from, and will return, to the same place: the cruel, blind processes of the natural world. To borrow from Mary Midgley, ‘We are not just rather like animals; we are animals.’ Our moral kinship consists in this fact: we share with our fellow creatures a capacity for pleasure, pain, happiness, and suffering. In the case of fireworks, the question we have to ask is as follows: is our pleasure worth their pain?
Less than a third of Brits enjoy fireworks ‘a lot’, according to a recent government report. Most of us enjoy fireworks ‘a little’, ‘not that much’, or ‘not at all’. That doesn’t seem nearly enough enthusiasm to justify the harm caused to animals. Each year, we sleepwalk into a parade of animal misery and, the worst part is, so few of us care about the explosions.
There are things to be done, at both the state and individual level. Fireworks for private displays are currently limited to 120 dB. (There are no such limits for public displays.) Birds respond to frequencies above 40 dB and, for dogs, anything above 85 dB is ‘playing with auditory fire’. The compromise is obvious: governments should legislate against fireworks that aren’t ‘silent’ or low-noise. The flashes will still cause harm; but it’s a step in the right direction. At least, this way, the firework fanatics can enjoy their glitter and sparkles.
At an individual level, using non-silent fireworks is rarely defensible. The RSPCA has published an interactive map that shows how many cats and dogs your private display will affect. There are very few residential areas where the numbers are reassuring. In my garden, for example, setting off a standard 120 dB firework would frighten around 2,000 dogs. I have to ask myself, honestly: is it worth scaring so many dogs – let alone the birds, foxes, cats, sheep, cows, horses, and the like – for a flash of tinsel in the sky? It would take some fuzzy logic to justify that.
So, this 5 November, let’s choose traditions that don’t come at the cost of unnecessary suffering. As we gather to celebrate, let’s remember what really matters. So long as we share the night with the people and pets we care about, the rest is just (unwanted) background noise.
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