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CLOSE-UP
'90s Activism
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Nat Horowitz:
"Everytime I see
shots of baby seals
getting smacked in
the head, I cry."
30
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1990
dooming children to play
amidst poison.
Mr. Horowitz's activism
began when he was nine. At
the University of Michigan
undergraduate library, he
watched a movie depicting
the killing of whales, in
which Greenpeace people in-
tervened by putting their
boats between the whale
hunters and their victims.
"It was incredibly depress-
ing," he says. "But what
Greenpeace was doing was
very inspiring — and simple
for a child to understand.
After that, I hung out with
the Greenpeace people for
about three years, as sort of
a mascot."
At 17, Mr. Horowitz sign-
ed up as a canvasser for
another activist organiza-
tion. The paid job required
that he produce a certain
minimum return. He didn't
quite make canvasser-of-the-
month this first time out. In
fact, he lasted a
week-and-a-half.
"Quota was $70 a night,
and I never made it," he
says. "Actually, I made it my
last time, but that was only
because I threw in $10 of my
own?'
The following summer, in
1988, he went to walk for
Greenpeace — and stuck
with it. More than a job, his
work is an enduring com-
mitment, Mr. Horowitz says.
He speaks of a Greenpeace
subculture with its own
folklore involving certain
extraordinary canvassers.
He quotes an old Cree
legend which inspired
Greenpeace founders and
tells of a dying Earth
rescued by the Warriors of
the Rainbow.
Pursuing his agenda, Mr.
Horowitz says he gets a lot
of friendly support from his
mother, father and step-
father, all of whom were ac-
tive in the civil rights move-
ment. An English major, he
portrays himself as a pro-
spective teacher, traveler,
Writer, father, adult.
His reasons for being an
activist, however, are
uncomplicated.
"I don't think I've been
desensitized to hypocrisy
and injustice, like a lot of
people."
He says he and his co-
workers care deeply about
the continuance of life on
Earth.
"Every time I see the
Greenpeace shots of baby
harp seals getting smacked
in the head, I cry."
MICHAEL LEIZERMAN
Working For
Animal Rights
"I wouldn't want to call
myself a radical;' Michael
Leizerman says. "I just try
to live morally. I'm a strict
vegetarian. I don't wear
leather. And I'm against
any type of animal research
whether for cosmetic or
medical reasons."
Mr. Leizerman, 21, is a
founder and co-president of
SCAR, Students Concerned
about Animal Rights, a
group with about 50
members at the University
of Michigan. In his senior
year at the school, with a
double major in philosophy
and film, Mr. Leizerman's
given many semesters of
thought to what "doing the
right thing" means for him.
It was back in a freshman
philosophy class at Eastern
Michigan University that
he first heard ideas that
would spark his own ethical
revolution and reign of com-
passion. Just before lecture
time, the professor synopsiz-
ed an animal rights speech
he planned to deliver that
evening.
Mr. Leizerman recalls the
essence of his teacher's corn-
ments: Animals are sentient
beings, feeling pain the
same way humans do.
Animals are exploited by
people for their furs and
flesh, even though alter-
native sources of clothing
and food are available; and
that is immoral.
"As a philosophy student,
and human being, I try to re-
main open-minded to any
new subject that comes up,"