
In the late 1980s and the '90s environmental and animal-rights activist Rod Coronado committed a series of direct actions, mostly targeting university research centers that housed wild animals like mink and coyotes.
Written by Dean Kuipers, a journalist who has followed the animal-rights and environmental movements for decades,
"Operation Bite Back: Rod Coronado's War to Save American Wilderness" details Coronado's path from saboteur to arsonist to peaceful Native American activist.
The book is a must-read for environmental and animal-rights activists. Regardless where one stands on the use of property destruction within the movements, activists should read the book to learn about the movements' histories and where they are heading -- especially with regard to the terrorism legislation that was created in 1992 in response to Coronado's work and which has since been added upon.
Of course, I don't believe that vandalism or arson should be considered terrorism.
Kuipers notes that the term "eco-terrorist" was coined in 1983 by "Ron Arnold, radical environmentalism's sworn and mortal enemy" who founded the wise-use movement, "a pro-industry backlash against environmental regulation."
Since that time animal-exploitation industries have gotten Congress to pass the Animal Enterprise Protection Act, in 1992, and the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act, in 2006. And the 2001 PATRIOT Act targets environmentalists "by defining eco-terrorism as 'the use or threatened use of violence of a criminal nature against innocent victims or property by environmentally-oriented, subnational group for environmental-political reasons, or aimed at an audience beyond the target, often of a symbolic nature.'"
The book also refers to agent provocateurs, with FBI agents infiltrating groups and urging activists to commit crimes.
Most of "Operation Bite Back," though, deals with Coronado's life, his thoughts about animals and their suffering and his direct action.
The scenes of the direct actions -- breaking into and burning buildings -- are suspenseful, and I found myself rooting for Coronado. But after a while I felt he was getting out of control, taking unnecessary risks, becoming addicted to the actions.
And I kept tossing the notion of arson -- and burglary and theft -- back and forth, debating whether it helped or hurt the cause. That's one of the goals of the book, though: to get readers to think about it.
While Kuipers includes interviews from fur farmers and animal experimenters, "Operation Bite Back" is sympathetic to the environmental and animal-rights movements. As I was reading it, I felt odd knowing
David Martosko had read this book. I wondered if he was disgusted by passages such as the following or if somewhere in his sarcastic, greedy body he has a heart.
Five of the six [coyotes] bolted for the hills, but one lingered, standing only a few feet outside the facility. It stood in the darkness looking nervously at Rod. He walked outside and tried to shoo it away, but it only leaped back a few steps and then stood its ground, insistent. Then Rod heard scratching from a part of the kennel he hadn't checked, and he realized there was one more. On the far side of the facility, he found a last occupant and cut it free, and as it bolted through the opened fence, the other wheeled, and together they disappeared into the dark ocean of grass.
(Image courtesy of Better World Books.)