A Prayer for the Humans on Behalf of the Animals

I have often said that as an animal activist, I have learned many, many things about animals, but I have learned a lot more about humans. If I didn't hear from the most remarkable people every day who share their stories of transformation with me, I think it would be very challenging to hold onto any hope for humanity in general or the animal rights movement in particular. But I do have hope. It fills my heart every day.

My hope is that we can all navigate through this world with the grace and integrity of those who need our protection. May we have the sense of humor and liveliness of the goats; may we have the maternal protective nature of the hens and the sassiness of the roosters. May we have the gentleness and strength of the cattle, the wisdom, humility, and serenity of the donkeys. May we appreciate the need for community as do the sheep and choose our companions as carefully as do the rabbits. May we have the faithfulness and commitment to family of the geese, the adaptability and affability of the ducks. May we have the intelligence, loyalty, and affection of the pigs, and may we have the inquisitiveness, sensitivity, and playfulness of the turkeys.

My hope is that we learn from the animals what it is we need to become better people.

Like Animals

I feel very strongly about how our use of language reveals our prejudices and biases, particular when it comes to the oppressed, whether the oppressed be human or nonhuman. In fact, the language of oppression is fundamental to the oppression itself. In order to establish your superiority over a group, first you need to subordinate that group, and one of the basic ways we do this is through the use of language.

The Nazis knew this well. As part of their “Final Solution,” a euphemism itself for the extermination of an entire people, they used language that demonized and dehumanized the Jews and other "enemies" of the State.” The Nazis portrayed the Jews as 'parasites,' and 'disease.’ They also called them pigs, dogs, vermin, and swine.

With the subjugation and suppression of African Americans came a language which labeled them 'chattels,' 'property,' and 'beasts.’ Even earlier than this were descriptions of Africans by the Europeans who called them brutes, monkeys, animals, and apes.

Similarly, the extermination of a significant population of "American Indians" was accompanied by the use of dehumanizing language defining them as "non-persons," "savages," and "Satan's partisans." The were also called ugly, filthy, inhuman beasts, swine, pigs, dogs, baboons, gorillas, and orangutans.

Belittling humans by calling them animals isn’t reserved only for certain groups of humans. In fact, any human who acts unfavorably or violently towards another human being is called “an animal.” It’s ironic to me, because animals don’t do to each other – or to humans – any of the horrific things we do to each other – and to other animals – for fun, for pleasure. When people act violently towards one another, it seems to me that it would be more accurate to say they’re acting like humans. But, of course we don’t do that, because we’re the almighty human being, whose primary fault that separates us from all the other animals – in my opinion – is our arrogance. It is our arrogance that enables us to subordinate, exploit, abuse, and kill animals, and it is our arrogance that enables us to justify this behavior on the basis of – well, our arrogance. On the basis of what we call our human right to do so. Right, that’s called arrogance.

And so we set up this system so that humans are superior, and animals are inferior, and so if we want to deem another group inferior, all we need to do is call them “animals” as the ultimate insult. One of the problems is that we are denying our own animal-ness; we don’t like to remember that we, too, are animals, and so in reality, though we shouldn’t mind being called what we are (i.e. animals), we do mind, because non-human animals have been denigrated, beaten down, insulted, and exploited for so many centuries that it is the worse thing to be called “an animal.”

I believe that the denigration of any people as a type of animal is a prelude to violence and genocide. Many anthropologists believe that the cruel forms of domesticating animals at the dawn of our agricultural society – about ten thousand years ago – created the model for the exploitation of other human beings. In other words, in domesticating, confining, and controlling other animals, we firmly planted violence into the heart of human culture.

What really breaks my heart is when I hear people from groups who have themselves been oppressed usurp the language of the oppressor and refer to animals in a derogatory way. I was watching Spike Lee’s documentary “When the Levees Broke” about the inexcusable response to the victims of the floods caused by Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, and a few of the people being interviewed talked about how difficult it was to see their fellow human beings being treated like animals, like cattle, reminiscent of what it was like when their people were slaves. The implication is that treating animals in an insulting or abusive way is acceptable but treating human animals that way is unacceptable. To my mind, neither is acceptable, and more than that, the acceptability of one leads to the acceptability of the other. The abuse of one leads to the abuse of the other. Here’s what freed slave Frederick Douglass had to say about that.

He wrote, “There is no denying that slavery had a direct and positive tendency to produce coarseness and brutality in the treatment of animals, especially those most useful to agricultural industry. The master blamed the overseer, the overseer the slave, and the slave the horses, oxen, and mules, and violence fell upon the animals as a consequence.”

In order to prove your superiority, you have to establish that you’re superior over someone else. You have to set it up so that there is someone underneath you. It’s not enough to just say “I rule!” “I’m the best!” You have to rule over something, over someone. And so humans have created a very convenient dichotomy between ourselves and the rest of the natural world. If we could tame the wild, then we do rule – literally. And so that’s what we’ve done. Animals have been put under our heels and are at the mercy of humans and our centuries-old inferiority complex. That’s what it comes down to. It comes down to arrogance and lust for power. And in order to keep up this pretense, we have to control the public perception so that it’s aligned with us. This is where our use of language is particularly helpful. The other way this is done is through fear.

By painting a picture of a savage, wild, vicious, unpredictable, violent animal kingdom, who is in every way inferior to the civilized, intelligent, rational, predictable human, you convince people that to NOT control, tame, and kill animals is a very dangerous prospect. It’s set up such that it seems like we’re actually protecting one another from the dangerous, wild animal. And then we create even sillier justifications for our speciesism by saying that those crazy animal rights activists want rights for animals at the expense of humans – as if we’re asking for driver’s licenses for dogs and political positions for cats.

In reality, it is not our fear that animals will take over the world that compels us to keep them down. It’s our fear that we won’t be able to keep controlling the world if we stopped enslaving them. It’s fear – not strength – that drives us to eat animals, make them perform for us, give them diseases and break their bodies in the name of science, wear their skins, wear their fur, put them in cages. It doesn’t take strength and courage to do these things. It’s our fear that we’re not adequate enough – just as humans – not better but part of. Imagine that. Imagine a world where human beings were humble enough to recognize that we all play a part in this world. That we all contribute and that we don’t have to keep others down to demonstrate how strong we are. We have many, many other reasons to believe we’re strong. We are strong. But in our treatment of animals, we continually display how weak we are. We continually demonstrate the worst of what humans are capable of.

So in addition to painting animals as wild and dangerous, we say all sorts of other things about them, using ourselves as the barometer. They’re not intelligent like we are. They can’t empathize like we can. They don’t have the complexity of language we have. They don’t have the ability to reason like we can. They don’t have souls like we do. And all sorts of other nonsense to keep us propped up and to keep them down. The funny thing about all of this is that we’re writing this story. And as long as we want to keep the power we’ve created, we have to keep telling this story. But what would happen if we were to create a different set of criteria to judge the value of non-human animals? What if we stopped measuring them against humans, in which case they’ll always fall short. We’re the authors of this story.

What if our criteria were different? I mean imagine if we determined your worthiness by how fast you could run. On how high you could fly. On the ability to climb mountains without rope but only four hooves. Depending on who’s telling the story and what the focus is, there are so many ways in which animals are superior to humans, and I don’t mean that in such a way as to suggest that we should let non-human animals run for President (um…I take that back). But that is to say, if we changed the story, changed our criteria, and were willing to humble ourselves a little, our relationship with animals would be very different. We would be much happier. The Earth would be much healthier. And the animals would be at peace.

Now perhaps some of you are saying that I’m envisioning some Utopian society where lions starve rather than kill gazelle. If that’s what you think I’m saying, think again. There is no breach of ethics when a carnivore kills his prey. But there is a breach of ethics – our own ethics – to have the choice to kill or not to kill and to choose the former. To have the choice between hurting someone and not hurting someone and choosing the former. There is a breach of ethics in a thought system that believes everything and everyone is here for us.

There is an essay written by Laura Moretti I would like to share with you. It has been a favorite of mine for many years, and I hope you’ll appreciate it as much as I do. Laura Moretti is a long-time activist and writer. Her website is http://www.lauramoretti.info/, where you can read her work and see some really amazing photos and videos, including video of the replacement calves for dairy herds confined outside in little pens in 100-degree heat and some other videos. She’s also the publisher of Animals Voice Magazine at http://www.animalsvoice.com/, and I recommend you check out this information-packed website and subscribe to the magazine if you can.

Here is Laura’s essay called Like Animals:

"Why do you suppose you like animals so much?" was the million-dollar question put to me Christmas Eve (and one I hadn't provoked). I knew my family was expecting me to say something like, "I like animals because they're cute and cuddly and furry and fun to play with." But instead I said, "I like animals because they are honest."

My observation triggered a facetious comment from one of my brothers. “About what?"--as if honesty were merely about telling the truth, and everyone knows animals can't talk! His notation was met with hearty laughter; for once, they thought they'd repaid me for all the discomfort I'd caused them at other family gatherings.

"I like that animals don't pretend to be someone they're not," I continued in my reply, hushing the crowd. "To quote a phrase, 'Dogs don't lie about love.' Animals don't fake their feelings. I like that they're emotionally fearless."

We were lounging on sofas and armchairs after our feast and present opening. Coffee was being served, so I seized the opportunity. "I like animals," I added, "because they only take out of life what they need. They don't abuse their environment, annihilate species, pollute their water, contaminate the air they breathe. They don't build weapons of mass destruction and use them against others-particularly members of their own species. I like animals because they have no use for those things, or for war or terrorism. They don't build nations around genocide."

My uncle seemed momentarily lost in thought. He had been born and raised in New York City. "That's because they don't know any better," a brother-in-law argued. "They don't do those things because they don't know how."

"A pride of lions doesn't get together," I countered him, "and decide how to exterminate zebras-their very source of nourishment. I don't think it's because they don't know how. I think it's because it's counter-productive." They laughed. "

I also like animals," I continued," because they don't punish themselves for their perceived inadequacies. They don't dwell on things of the past, nor use them as excuses for behavior in the present. And they don't plan to live some day in the future, they live today, this moment, fully, completely, and purely. I like animals because they live their lives with so much more freedom than humans live theirs."

"That's because they don't think," one of my cousins offered.

"Is that the difference?" I wondered. "'I think therefore I'm cruel, destructive, insecure, abusive?' You meant to say they don't think the way we think." The room had become strangely quiet. I was amazed at how closely my family was listening, despite the occasional grunt to the contrary.

"I like animals because they don't bow down to imaginary gods they've created, nor annihilate each other in the name of those gods; gods, they say, who are all-knowing and all-loving and just. I like animals because they only know how to give unconditional love and implicit trust. I mean, animals either extend those things to you or they don't; there are no shades of gray. They have the best of what makes us human and, as one observer put it, "none of our vices.'" "And thank God," someone injected.

"Lastly," I added, remembering why I was an animal rights activist, "Animals are the most victimized living creatures on earth; more than children, more than women, more than people of color. Our prejudice enables us to exploit and use them, as scientific tools and expendable commodities, and to eat them. We do to them any atrocity our creative minds can summon. We justify our cruelties; we have to or we can't commit them. I like animals because they don't do to themselves or to others the things we do to them. And they don't make excuses for unethical actions because they don't commit unethical acts."

"And finally," I finished, "I like animals because they're not hypocrites. They don't say one thing and do another. They are, as I've said, honest. Animals-not humans-are the best this planet has to offer." And, interestingly enough, despite my soapbox rant, not a one of them made a snide comment or a hint of laughter. The conversation actually rolled into shared stories of animals they've known, stories of animal loyalty and intelligence, their humor and innocence. And it was me who'd become the listener with the occasional comment: "Now, if only humans could only be, well, like animals." And that is why I fight the good fight; I rise on behalf of the best among us.”

Early Humans = Vegetarian Prey Animals

A new article in Newsweek (called "Beyond Stones & Bones: The new science of the brain and DNA is rewriting the history of human origins" http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17542627/site/newsweek/) dispels (once again) the myth that early humans were meat-eaters. Faulty evidence, specious speculations, male-dominated anthropology studies, and a denial that humans were actually the prey and not the predator - all perpetuated the myth that our early evolutionary selves were macho meat-eaters and hunters.

I've said many times before, particularly in response to people like Michael Pollan, who insist that if we don't eat meat we're "denying our evolutionary heritage," that even though that's STILL not a good enough reason to keep eating animals, we never seem to remember that we came AFTER the large predatory animals - as food for them!

Thanks to this article, the new studies it refers to, and a revised exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History, Michael Pollan can begin to eat his words. Here's an excerpt from the article:

“They [one early species in our evolution] had small teeth good for fruits and nuts, but not meat. (The available prey was enough to make one a confirmed vegetarian: hyenas the size of bears, saber-toothed cats and other mega-reptiles and raptors.) That suggests that early humans were more often prey than predators, says anthropologist Robert Sussman of Washington University, coauthor of the 2005 book "Man the Hunted." The evidence is as stark as the many fossil skulls containing holes made by big cats and talon marks from raptors.

The realization that early humans were the hunted and not hunters has upended traditional ideas about what it takes for a species to thrive. For decades the reigning view had been that hunting prowess and the ability to vanquish competitors was the key to our ancestors' evolutionary success (an idea fostered, critics now say, by the male domination of anthropology during most of the 20th century). But prey species do not owe their survival to anything of the sort, argues Sussman. Instead, they rely on their wits and, especially, social skills to survive. Being hunted brought evolutionary pressure on our ancestors to cooperate and live in cohesive groups. That, more than aggression and warfare, is our evolutionary legacy.”

I really encourage people to feel confident enough to debunk the myths about eating a plant-based diet. Even if we couldn't demonstrate that early humans were meat-eaters (I really do think the point is moot), we have all the reasons and resources in the world to eat low on the food chain and do so healthfully and confidently. But because there are so many - both high- and low-profile people - using our early ancestry as a *reason* to eat animals, I think it's important to respond with the type of research outlined in this article.

Active Listening

I think we have forgotten how to talk to one another. Certainly the anonymity of the Internet has contributed to this and has dulled our discourse, dehumanized our dialogue. We listen with divided attention, more interested in hearing our own voices and ready to respond with a defensive answer or a witty quip. This is particularly true when it comes to talking about vegetarianism. Thoughtless (i.e. "without thought") responses come flowing out of people's mouths when confronted with the idea of not eating once-alive, once-kicking animals. A dichotomy of good vs. bad is immediately imagined, and hackles are raised even before the bell goes off.

Communication is central to everything I do, as this sensitive subject requires special care. Admittedly, it is exhausting work - prepping for the cooking classes alone takes countless hours, and it is when the class is over that I am utterly spent - not because of the hours I've been on my feet - but because of the energy that goes into fostering a dialogue in each of my classes. I'm exhausted not just from talking but from listening. I absorb and honor every word and try to create a safe space for students to say what they need to. It takes energy to listen.

Every day, whether it's via email, in my classes, or on the street, I am asked the same questions over and over. (Every vegetarian knows what this is like.) But I try and treat each question as if it is being asked for the very first time. And you know what? It is. By that individual. I know that many people are hearing what I am saying - about veganism, about animals, about nutrition - for the very first time, and since we've all been brainwashed by the same machine, there is a relatively small pool of responses from which people draw.

You don't have to be an educator to honor the dialogue that I believe we all so desperately want. I know many vegetarians who are tired of answering the "protein question" or fielding justifications about eating animals. And I know it can be tiresome, but not only to I feel it is my responsbility to speak on behalf of the truth when asked about vegetarianism, I believe it is a breech of trust if I don't. I would be breeching the trust of the animals who need me as their voice, and I would be breeching the trust of the person asking the question who is trusting me with their fears or concerns or needs. I am compelled to answer with grace. I am expected to answer with truth. I am honored to answer at all.

This doesn't mean that the non-vegetarians are off the hook. Each one of us knows when we're asking a genuine question and seeking authenic dialogue or when we're merely spouting off judgments and trying to provoke anger. All of that is just based on fear - of hearing the truth, of having our own truth revealed to us, of being inspired to make a change. Each time we push away the truth about this issue, we're just delaying our own growth. It will happen eventually, so we may as well just jump in now. If we're not actively participating in life and all its complexities and pain and suffering, then we're just stagnant.

My husband and I regularly attend a Japanese Tea Ceremony, and one of the most valuable things that we've taken from it is the idea of "facing forward." During the ceremony, guests are expected to pay attention to every detail, to admire the scroll and the tea wares, to be fully present. Now, at home, whenever one of us feels the other is distracted when we want to say something, we ask the other person to please face forward. It's a much gentler way (and much more effective) than saying "you're not listening to me!"

So, I'll leave you with that thought. May we listen to each other with authenticity and respond with integrity. May we speak for truth. May we face forward and look directly into each other's eyes, directly into our own fears and embrace the joys and sorrows that come with living fully present and fully open.

Eating Animals

To the animals, it’s all the same. They want to live. If they have wings, they want to fly. If they have legs, they want to walk. If they have voices, they want to communicate. If they have offspring, they want to mother them. To humans who perceive animals as inferior, their lives are here for us to end, their wings and legs are ours to eat, their voices are ours to silence or ignore, and their reproductive cycles are ours to manipulate and use. It’s not the animals but our perception of the animals that enables us to do all sorts of horrific things to them. As with any kind of prejudice, first you have to lower the societal status of the group or individual before you can actually oppress them, and we do this with animals across the board: in the language we use that denigrates them (calling people pigs, calling animals dirty), in the rights and natural behaviors we deny them, in the place we’ve carved out for them in society, making them tools for research, clowns for our enjoyment, delicacies for our palates, and victims of our desires. This dynamic is so ingrained. We learn it at such a young age, and we’re considered quite radical if we question it at all. And we think all the world thinks and acts as we do.

We never stop to consider that our perceptions and treatment of non-human animals is culturally based. Period. Our cultural and personal and familial habits inform so much of what we do on a daily basis. It’s why any talk of the "necessity" of eating animal flesh is balderdash. It has nothing to do with our biologic makeup and everything to do with our cultural foundation, taste habits, and, frankly, our arrogance, the arrogance of the human species. But let's talk about cultural habits for now.

As westerners, most of us were raised eating the dismembered and scorched bodies – otherwise known as meat – of pigs, cows, calves, chickens, fishes, ducks, lambs, and turkeys. Despite the fact that these animals suffered and were killed to satisfy our appetites, many of us draw an arbitrary line and turn our noses up at the people who eat other animals that may not have been on our own dinner plates: animals such as deer, rabbit, or buffalo. People get upset at the thought of eating precious bunny rabbits, as they munch on the leg of what was once a precious calf or baby chick. With even greater indignance we’re shocked at the (also western) cultures who eat horses and goats, and our stomachs turn at the idea of eating frog’s legs, chicken’s feet, cow’s tongues, and monkey’s brains. And with what can be characterized as approval of our own speciesism, we scorn those who eat cats and dogs.

“Can you believe that?” Some people have said to me. “That’s just so upsetting – cats and dogs? I mean really!.” Is something I often hear. And I attempt to mirror the hypocrisy of their remark by saying: “You know what I heard? I heard people eat the shoulders of pigs and the wings of birds! Can you believe that?” OK it doesn’t have the same shock value, but it would if that person lived in a place where that was unheard of. In the workshops I teach, do an exercise that works quite effectively to get this across. I give the group a handout that talks about the growing number of farms raising dogs for their milk, about how this is a growing trend that’s popular in different parts of the world. People get outraged. They get really upset to hear about the female dogs in confinement, chained up, made and kept pregnant so they will keep lactating, taking away the babies so humans can have the dogs’ milk, etc. After everyone records their reactions, I reveal that the article was really about goat’s milk before I replaced all the references to goats with the word “dog.” It’s at that moment that everyone feels the impact of their reactions. They begin to question why they reacted so strongly when they thought it was about dogs and that they don’t think twice about drinking cow’s milk (and now goat’s milk and sheep’s milk, which are being touted as necessary health food for humans). It’s a powerful exercise, and it’s hard to do, because it’s so hard to look at the world through a different lens. But it’s what we need to do to see the absurdity of our choices.

In writing these podcasts and the essays for my newsletter (also called Food for Thought, which you can subscribe to at compassionatecooks.com), it’s always a struggle finding the words and the photos that will be effective enough without turning people off. The photos of dogs and cats raised for their flesh in parts of Asia (particularly Korea and China) are so horrific for people, because they’ve never seen dogs and cats in such gruesome circumstances. It’s the way most of us react when we first see the animals we kill and eat in this country, but it’s a little more upsetting I think, because most people haven’t had personal relationships with pigs, cattle, chickens, turkeys, etc. I can understand having a strong reaction. I really can. But I also think it’s important we recognize that the deep roots of our desensitization enable us to allow animals here to be imprisoned, confined, denied, abused, and tortured so that we can satisfy a palate preference, whether that preference is for the legs and wings of chickens, the backsides of pigs, or the sides of cows. – it comes down to the cultural habit that has been ingrained in us. The dogs and cats, the goats and horses – they’re all cultural habits of other countries. Just as some cultures or religions choose vegetarian – it’s all cultural. It has nothing to do with biology. If we can remember that, perhaps we wouldn’t be so quick to judge other cultures but would instead rise up to oppose what we do in our own.

On the other hand, I don’t believe culture, tradition, or religion are adequate excuses for cruelty. Dr. Albert Schweitzer, the great humanitarian wrote, “The thinking [person] must oppose all cruel customs no matter how deeply rooted in tradition and surrounded by a halo. When we have a choice, we must avoid bringing torment and injury into the life of another.” I couldn’t agree more or have said it more eloquently. Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should. Just because we’ve always done something doesn’t mean it’s the best thing or the right thing to do. And when we know better, we can choose better.

To the animals, it’s all the same. Whether they meow, snort, bark, winny, moo, quack, gobble, hop, fly, swim, or run, they all feel pain, loss, and fear. A Korean dog wants to live and resists death as much as an American duck. To the animals kept and killed for human pleasure, it’s all the same.— the loneliness, the pain, the screams, the darkness, the torment, the fear, the cold, the heat, the untreated illnesses, the longing, the frustration, the boredom, the desire to flee, the desire to live. When we can recognize that we share all of this with non-human animals, perhaps we’d reconsider the choices we make on a daily basis. Consider this – they’re all habits, and habits were meant to be broken. It takes three weeks to break old and form new habits. There’s no reason – only excuses – not to at least try.

You Say "Blood" - I Say "Au Jus"

I just read an article about how the heat in California is causing "animal farmers" to suffer. Oh no - don't worry. They're not suffering from the heat. They have air conditioners to keep themselves nice and cool. They're suffering because their "livestock" is dying - from the 100-degree temperatures we've been experiencing. Most "beef cattle" aren't given shelter from the blazing hot sun, and with California being the #1 dairy state (Sorry Wisconsin!), thousands of cows are falling over (also without shelter), "creating a backlog of rotting carcasses," according to the authorities. There is a "backlog" because they don't have enough places to "properly dispose of dead animals." It makes sense when you think about it, because the vessels into which they would normally dispose of the "carcasses" (how come they can use that word??) are our own tummies! So, I have a solution for everyone!

Since some people insist that we must eat animals in order to survive (I wonder if that makes me some kind of miracle!), I figure they can have breakfast, lunch, and dinner - with a few meals in between - if they brought a fork and knife to these dairy farms. It would solve the farmer's problems (you can pay them a small fee for your meal), the abundant carcass problem, and the hunger problem all at the same time. I guess the only problem is we'll have to change the name from rotting carcass to something else, like cow flambe or specialdu jour . I mean - when it's a cow that dropped dead from the heat or an unfortunate squirrel who happened to run into a car, it's a "carcass," but if it's something we desire to put in our mouths, it's called "dinner." We're such funny little birds, we humans. It tickles me to no end.

All sarcasm aside, my heart goes out to every life that's ended for our appetites (and I'm responsible for many myself). The annual body count of animals killed for human consumption is, according to the USDA, over 10 billion in the U.S. alone. That number doesn't even include the fatalities I mentioned above or those who die en route to slaughter and on factory farms. Each and every one of those individuals was denied dignity in life and dignity in death. Any of us who live with animals do everything we can to keep them safe. In terms of their ability to feel pain and suffering, there is no difference between "beef cattle," "dairy cows," and my own cats. The only difference is our perception of these animals. We split our hearts by valuing one animal for his or her own sake and another for the taste of her flesh or milk or the profit he/she brings.

Whether it's a natural disaster or a humanmade war, whenever deaths are reported, the animals are virtually ignored. In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, the treatment of displaced animals during a crisis is being taken seriously, but sadly, if you listen to the rhetoric, it's still not for the animals' sake. It's for the humans. Yes, I suppose that's better than nothing at all, but I truly believe that until we change our perception of animals, absolutely nothing will change in our treatment of them. Where our minds are prejuiced, so will our behavior reflect that bias.
For every person who eschews eating animals, lives are literally saved. If we are saddened by the death of an animal on the side of the road or from a natural catastrophe, then we can offset that misery by changing our eating habits. Eating vegetarian is a powerful way to live. It means we can look animals - and ourselves - right in the eye. No guilt, no shame, no blood. Did I say blood? I'm sorry - I meant au jus. Ah, the language of denial. Ya gotta love it.

Hypothetical Hype

Those of you familiar with my regular essays and podcasts know that one of my favorite pastimes is to respond to the myths about animals rights and vegetarianism. We create so many justifications to continue eating animals that we don't even notice that most of them don't even reflect reality; they're just hypothetical scenarios that enable us to hold fast to a particular perception of ourselves. I remember creating one or two myself before I thought long and hard about what I was contributing to. When I got really honest with myself about how lame my excuses were, I stopped - eating animals and making excuses. That decision was the best one I ever made, and it has filled my life with meaning and purpose.

So here is one of my favorites. I'll feature more in the coming weeks.

-"I don't have a problem with animals being killed for food, but I don't want to support the torture and abuse that take place on factory farms. In fact, I think I could even humanely kill my own animals to cause the least amount of suffering." I realize there are people who feel this way, and though I disagree with the premise (because I, personally, do have a problem with animals being killed for human consumption), that's not my issue with this statement. My problem has to do with the fact that it rests on hypotheticals:

1. This person isn't raising and killing her own animals, and by virtue of that, she is, unfortunately, contributing to the abuse and torture of animals.

2. What people don't realize is that even on the most idealized farms, animals are not lovingly and "humanely euthanized" when they're fat enough for the dinner table. They are sent to the same dirty slaughterhouses as "conventionally raised" animals. It's not legal for ranchers to kill their own animals (unless they're going to eat them themselves) and sell them to the public. The transportation alone is incredibly stressful (and often fatal) for the animals, and the slaughterhouse itself is a place of fear, pain, blood, and death.

3. I have seen what would be considered "humane slaughter," all I saw was an animal struggling to fight for her life. She did not want to die. She did not want her head removed. She did not want the blade to touch her body. As the blood drained from her, all I could remember was that line in Tim Robbins' film Dead Man Walking, when Sister Prejean lamented at how "calculated" the killing [of the deathrow inmate] was. The systematic execution of human beings is no different than that of animals - even in the most "idealized" situation, it is still messy, bloody, deliberate, painful, and unnecessary.

When we rely on hypotheticals to justify real-life situations, it is only because we want to hold onto a perception of ourselves that may or may not be true. I don't believe any of us want to consciously and willingly contribute to abuse or torture. But, there just isn't any way of getting around it when we eat meat. If we can't tell ourselves the truth about what we're supporting, then we need to ask ourselves what we're avoiding. Until then, we're not living in Truth - neither our own or that of the real world.

Those of us who have stopped eating animals aren't off the hook, either. Every time we hear someone justifying eating animals, we have an opportunity to reflect the truth. There are gentle, respectful ways of doing this, but there is no question that we must do it. The animals need us as their voice. If not you, then who?