Front and Back Covers, Volume 30, Number 6. December 2014

Abstract

Front and back cover caption, volume 30 issue 6Front coverTHE HOUSE GUNThe world was watching when Paralympic gold medallist Oscar Pistorius and Reeva Steenkamp's parents stepped into the magisterial Palace of Justice in Pretoria. At that moment they entered alien territory beyond the ken of the insular white upper class Afrikaner community, many of whom live as if poor blacks were not the very foundation and backbone of the nation. Little had changed for them except their increased fears of criminal assault by black ‘intruders’ washed up from the surrounding townships. The only defence for their beleaguered class was a latter‐day version of the Afrikaaner laager: the gated community, motion sensors, armed guards, and a private arsenal of guns – from high powered rifles to the trusty little ‘weekend special’, the house gun. Face to face with a stern and stoical Zulu judge, Thokozile Masipa, the defendant sobbed, retched, and begged for mercy from ‘My Lady’. He admitted killing his live‐in girlfriend by shooting wildly through the door of a tiny toilet cubicle, arguing that it was a mistake.As Nancy Scheper‐Hughes argues in this issue, one way of understanding the Pistorius case is through the powerful writings of white South African authors such as Nobel Prize laureate Nadine Gordimer's anticipatory post‐apartheid novel, The house gun, in which she imagined a scenario similar to the one played out in the Pistorius trial where white fears and black justice met in the courtroom. South Africa is not unique. The mobilization of white peoples' fear of black or brown ‘intruders’ has infected other divided nations, like the United States and Israel. Here the social and architectural construction of ‘white’ settler or settler‐like special enclosures fortified by the legal right to self‐defence with private weapons has reproduced a colonial ‘paranoid ethos’ and a dangerous denial of the violence that is nested like a coiled rattlesnake from within their own segregated and hypervigilant enclosures.Back coverEATING PETS?An eating place offering dog meat for sale at a market; a common sight in South Korea.Seoul's largest cat and dog meat market opens on calendar days ending with 4 and 9 of each month. Here, on these days, ready‐cooked dog meat is also widely served all year round. One row of market stalls is entirely dedicated to shops selling mainly live dogs and chickens, animals consumed as part of a belief system that maintains that their consumption helps to regulate body temperature especially during the summer.As evidenced in the recent horsemeat controversy, British food anxieties revolve especially around maintaining a clear separation between companion animals and livestock. The Korean case, however, shows vernacular sensibilities running along different lines, principally based on local ideas about medicine and cosmology.Korean activists are presently taking a moral stance against dog meat consumers capable of tenderizing live animals for their meat. Yet even these activists voice their stance largely through emic interpretations of trans‐species relations rooted in Korean cosmology and ontology.In this issue, Julien Dugnoille looks at how Korean activists bring the issue of animal welfare to the attention of Korean society. He explores the ways in which activists deploy rescue narratives in order to attract families willing to adopt rescued animals, thus transforming people's perception of livestock animals into that of potential lifetime companions. Combined here are the Confucian virtue of impartial benevolence and 18th‐century Western moral philosophy.