What will they think of us?

Note the anxious eye and the very, very tight flash (the strap underneath the noseband). 

Part of a historian’s job is to be relatively neutral and not judge the doings of the past. We must analyse facts, and facts only. Everything centres round facts. It is not easily done, of course, for we are always influenced by our culture, by our own times, by our personal feelings. We will read texts, we will analyse sources, we will look at the actions of some people and we will condemn, approve, disagree… It is only human to do so. 

While studying the actions of people from the past, I have sometimes wondered, what will future historians think of us? And since I specialise in the history of horses, I have asked myself more specifically, what will people, in fifty, in a hundred, in two hundred years think of our treatment of horses? 

Will the historians of 2200 wonder why people in 2020 were still riding horses? Will the archaeologists of that time study the bits we used and wonder why the riders of the 21st century used the same tool as the riders of the Bronze Age? 

What strikes me, when I try to look at the equestrian world from a distance, from the point of view of a historian, is that though the use of the horse has changed, many, many aspects of horse-caring, horse-training and such have not. And they should have. 

Let’s look at shoes for instance. Though barefoot is more and more a “thing,” it mainly seems to concern horses that are only lightly worked, or retired. Many people will say that horses competing, etc. cannot do without shoes. Some people will say that horses doing well barefoot are an exception, rather than the rule. They will counter the argument that horses have done without shoes in the wild for thousands of years by saying that the hooves of domestic horses have been weakened through breeding and selection. 

It is true that wild equids and domestic horses do not live in the same conditions. They do not live the same life and that difference is at the origin of the need for shoes. In past centuries, horses worked hard, pulling carts and carrying riders for miles. Then they were stabled for the night. Shoes helped to limit the wear on their feet, due to the hard work they were doing, especially if they were carrying heavy loads. Shoes also protected their feet when they stood in stables full of manure and could limit affections such as thrush. 

Now, many countries no longer use horses for actual work. Horses do not have to toil for hours on hard roads. Even when horses are competing, they tend to remain on soft ground. Even if they are stabled, there are other ways to protect their feet. And should the wear on their hooves be too much, there is always the option of adding hoof-boots. What about horses with fragile hooves? The information and research circulating around would imply that it is more linked to nutrition than genetics. Of course, there are some cases when shoes are needed, when feet are so damaged, externally or internally, that veterinaries deem they are necessary. 

But my point is that today, in regards to the use that is made of horses in many countries across the world, a good part of the horse population does not need shoes. Yet barefoot horses are the exception rather than the norm. Why? Is it the weight of tradition? Of peer-pressure? Is it because people know no better? Will the historians of the future wonder why the horse-owners of the 21st century slapped shoes on their horses’ hooves without asking themselves if the amount of work, the terrain on which this work was done and the horse’s health actually warranted it? 

What perplexes me is that there is enough research and scientific evidence circulating around (thank you Internet!) to help horse-owners take a well-informed decision, be that to shoe their horse or to go barefoot. Knowledge is accessible to all. Yet I do feel that traditions still prevail. 

Another example is linked to the welfare of horses. The research done by scientists all over the world has helped to elucidate horses’ expression of pain, fear, nervousness… Then why don’t we, riders, horse-owners, hors-carers, radically change our behaviour towards horses? 

Go to a riding competition, show-jumping, or dressage, or whatever, go to the warm-up area and look at the horses. Look at the horses and try to find one that does not look stressed or in pain. Of course, you could say that it is normal that they should be stressed. There is the public, there is the noise… There are also the harsh hands of some riders, there are bits so brutal they seem to have been designed by a sadist, there are spurs, there are crops. Sometimes these are used in a reasoned way, as a reinforcement of natural aids. But all too often, they are used, even by professional riders, as a way to inflict pain and force the horses into submission. 

Will the historians of the future look at pictures of dressage horses, their heads held in rollkur, their eyes wrinkled with pain and filled with fear, and marvel at the brutality of the riders of the 21st century? A brutality that does not have the excuse of ignorance. And that is what troubles me most. We know. 

We know we inflict pain on our horses. We know that stalling them all day long leads to depression and stereotypies. We know we make them suffer, and yet we go on doing it. 

In a world where concerns about the welfare of animals takes more and more importance, the equestrian world seems to think itself above the ethics that should be applied to it like they are applied to the care of other species. Sometimes, I feel that this equestrian world is fundamentally illogical, perhaps because of this growing gap between that change in the use of horses, and the absence of change in horse-care. 

And when I put myself in the place of the historians of the future, when I try to look at us, like I look at medieval horsemen, I feel very, very uncomfortable. And to tell the truth, I’m not comfortable about my own actions as well and I am very torn about some things, about what I’ve been taught, what I’ve read. About my horse’s reactions, about what I’ve done, in the past and in the present. About the way I ride, and the way I’ve ridden. I question myself, I question my choices. And I wonder, what will they think of us?