Theodore Roosevelt wrote about “the man who is actually in the arena.” That is, an individual “who errs, who comes short again and again” but “who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.” Since I first met the NhRP’s founder Steve Wise, I’ve often thought of this refrain. Before he passed away in February of this year, he embodied the spirit of one “who spends himself in a worthy cause,” less concerned with destinations, focusing instead on the journey of nonhuman animal rights from an aberrant idea to legal reality.
As my colleague Spencer Lo and I approached the courtroom in Boulder, Colorado on the morning of October 24, 2024, I knew our cause was worthy and we were part of that journey.
In that building, I was going to argue for the right to liberty of five elephants confined in the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo–marking the first time Colorado’s highest court would hear arguments in support of nonhuman rights. As Steve would have, I’d spent almost every hour of every day for over three months preparing. Reading, re-reading, re-re-reading the briefs and arguing the case over and over and over–whether with Spencer (a more intense interrogator than any judge I’ve encountered), on my own in front of a mirror and my dog (who, by the last month, had begun yawning at me before I could get my first words out as he’d grown so tired of hearing me say the same things over and over), or in practice hearings we held with legal experts who are friends of the NhRP.
I entered the courtroom without fear or hesitation. This might sound strange, but I’ve wanted to be an animal lawyer since childhood. When I learned of Steve and the NhRP during law school, I knew exactly where I wanted to work, and eventually I persuaded Steve to hire me.
Throughout that October morning, I was thinking about Steve and the justice of our arguments. I was also thinking about our supporters. If my conviction for Steve’s vision is why I’ve continued to pursue animal advocacy, then you are the foundation that nurtures my firmly held beliefs.
Some members of this community have supported Steve and the NhRP since before I joined the organization in 2020; others are more recent supporters. But each of you contributes immensely and uniquely to the pursuit of nonhuman rights, and so as I reflect on 2024, I wanted to thank you for being there with the NhRP literally or figuratively in Boulder that day–whether in person or rooting us on from afar.
The simple truth is that Missy, Kimba, Lucky, LouLou, and Jambo would be unequivocally relegated to a lifetime of servitude by the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo if each of you ceased to engage with our work. Through the sharing of your thoughts on our Zoom webinars and social media, your presence at rallies or in court, and fiscally through donations and bequests, there is at least the hope of freedom for the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo elephants. That hope, the result of strangers unified for a cause greater than themselves, lent me all possible confidence on October 24th. As Steve often told us, each time we show up in court on behalf of a nonhuman animal client we win a small but important battle in the war against the cruel and unjustifiable detention of an autonomous, extraordinarily cognitively complex, and individual life. I could feel this momentum then, and I feel it now as I work on our next case and we await the Colorado Supreme Court’s decision.
In closing, I want to say that Steve’s vision persists because it’s the right vision for our world. It’s a vision we at the Nonhuman Rights Project share with you, and most importantly, it’s a vision that requires each of us. As the humble lawyer of five wild-born, African elephants unable to leave the confines of a mountainside prison in central Colorado, I thank you for enabling us to continue advocating for them and others and helping us build momentum–day after day, year after year.