Counterpoint: Eat a Bowl of Organic Soy-Dicks
Vegans are to animal welfare what Naderites are to liberalism.
Animal, Vegetable, Miserable
by Gary Steiner, professor of philosophy at Bucknell University
I like the title. That’ll be it for positive responses from me, I’m afraid.
Lately more people have begun to express an interest in where the meat they eat comes from and how it was raised. Were the animals humanely treated? Did they have a good quality of life before the death that turned them into someone’s dinner?
Yeah, that’s pretty great, right?
Right?
Hello?
Some of these questions, which reach a fever pitch in the days leading up to Thanksgiving, pertain to the ways in which animals are treated. (Did your turkey get to live outdoors?) Others focus on the question of how eating the animals in question will affect the consumer’s health and well-being. (Was it given hormones and antibiotics?)
Honestly, I don’t have a whole lot of patience for the latter. There are myriad reasons for buying organic, locally-grown, fair trade, what have you, but the health benefits are, as far as I can tell, a buncha placebo-tastic hippie shit. Alcohol is, after all, a toxin, and also the nectar of the gods.
I don’t like the way they pump cows full of antibiotics and growth hormones either, but I don’t like it because they do so in order to paper over the fact that they force ranging ruminants into squalid quarters and feed them corn instead of grass. I’m not worried I’m gonna grow extra tits or something.
None of these questions, however, make any consideration of whether it is wrong to kill animals for human consumption.
Oh HERE WE GO with the perfect being the enemy of the good, which is doubly annoying since it reduces me to invoking threadworn cliches like “the perfect is the enemy of the good.”
But hey, what’s the point of a philosophy degree if you can’t minimize the huge utilitarian gains made by people who majored in real subjects?
And even when people ask this question, they almost always find a variety of resourceful answers that purport to justify the killing and consumption of animals in the name of human welfare. Strict ethical vegans, of which I am one, are customarily excoriated for equating our society’s treatment of animals with mass murder. Can anyone seriously consider animal suffering even remotely comparable to human suffering? Those who answer with a resounding no typically argue in one of two ways.
Three, if you count “get outta here with that mass-murder Godwin-corollary stuff, ya jackass” as a “way.”
Some suggest that human beings but not animals are made in God’s image and hence stand in much closer proximity to the divine than any non-human animal; according to this line of thought, animals were made expressly for the sake of humans and may be used without scruple to satisfy their needs and desires. There is ample support in the Bible and in the writings of Christian thinkers like Augustine and Thomas Aquinas for this pointedly anthropocentric way of devaluing animals.
Yeah, they’re idiots. Can we move this along?
Others argue that the human capacity for abstract thought makes us capable of suffering that both qualitatively and quantitatively exceeds the suffering of any non-human animal. Philosophers like Jeremy Bentham, who is famous for having based moral status not on linguistic or rational capacities but rather on the capacity to suffer, argue that because animals are incapable of abstract thought, they are imprisoned in an eternal present, have no sense of the extended future and hence cannot be said to have an interest in continued existence.
Well, no, life by its very nature wants to live, so that last part’s clearly false, but yeah, the fact that they don’t really have a concept of time matters. Like, enormously. Say you’re trying to decide whether it’s time to put your dog down—a person suffering from excruciating pain might want to hold out to tie up loose ends, or just to see if a cancellation-imposed endgame leads to Dollhouse finally cohering somewhat. A dog don’t give a fuck. Ameliorating his suffering trumps all, though I’d say it’s okay to let him linger for a couple hours if there are family members who need to say goodbye.
The most penetrating and iconoclastic response to this sort of reasoning came from the writer Isaac Bashevis Singer in his story “The Letter Writer,” in which he called the slaughter of animals the “eternal Treblinka.”
The Argument from Some Famous Person Who Agrees With Me is my second-least favorite logical fallacy. And that’s aside from the fact that, uh, since when do you get to use fiction when you’re marshalling evidence?
The story depicts an encounter between a man and a mouse. The man, Herman Gombiner, contemplates his place in the cosmic scheme of things and concludes that there is an essential connection between his own existence as “a child of God” and the “holy creature” scuffling about on the floor in front of him.
Okay, great, now let’s talk about—
Surely, he reflects, the mouse has some capacity for thought;
Dude, we got the gist, let’s not waste—
Gombiner even thinks that the mouse has the capacity to share love and gratitude with him. Not merely a means for the satisfaction of human desires, nor a mere nuisance to be exterminated, this tiny creature possesses the same dignity that any conscious being possesses. In the face of that inherent dignity, Gombiner concludes, the human practice of delivering animals to the table in the form of food is abhorrent and inexcusable.
Uh… Gombiner’s an idiot, then. Mice have the capacity to share love and gratitude with each other, maybe, but not in a form we’d recognize, because they’re not human. I thought one of your implied theses was that whether or not they share certain traits with us shouldn’t factor into their treatment, no?
Many of the people who denounce the ways in which we treat animals in the course of raising them for human consumption never stop to think about this profound contradiction. Instead, they make impassioned calls for more “humanely” raised meat.
Yeah, fuck that incredible sea change in our thinking. It’s only taken what, centuries of advocacy?
Many people soothe their consciences by purchasing only free-range fowl and eggs, blissfully ignorant that “free range” has very little if any practical significance. Chickens may be labeled free-range even if they’ve never been outside or seen a speck of daylight in their entire lives. And that Thanksgiving turkey? Even if it is raised “free range,” it still lives a life of pain and confinement that ends with the butcher’s knife.
This is a hugely important point. A hugely important point that you do absolutely nothing with. No discussion of the distinction between “free range” and “cage free” (unfortunately, not always that great a distinction), no mention of the certified-humane movement, but three paragraphs about Stuart Littleheim?
How can intelligent people who purport to be deeply concerned with animal welfare and respectful of life turn a blind eye to such practices? And how can people continue to eat meat when they become aware that nearly 53 billion land animals are slaughtered every year for human consumption? The simple answer is that most people just don’t care about the lives or fortunes of animals. If they did care, they would learn as much as possible about the ways in which our society systematically abuses animals, and they would make what is at once a very simple and a very difficult choice: to forswear the consumption of animal products of all kinds.
If people knew the facts, they’d all come to the exact same conclusion as me! Gotta love intellectual sparring partners who remove their own organs and stuff themselves with straw, makes it a lot easier to argue with ‘em.
See, I’d like to know how many of those 53 billion animals got to live reasonably dignified, satisfying lives before the curtain came down, and if/how their experience can be replicated. Because I’m a sophist.
The easy part of this consists in seeing clearly what ethics requires and then just plain doing it. The difficult part: You just haven’t lived until you’ve tried to function as a strict vegan in a meat-crazed society.
What I love most about English is its lack of hard & fast rules, so I’m not saying you can’t play around with conventions a little, but doesn’t the setup “you just haven’t lived until…” kind of demand a payoff more like “...you’ve seen the Mars Volta on shrooms?”
What were once the most straightforward activities become a constant ordeal. You might think that it’s as simple as just removing meat, eggs and dairy products from your diet, but it goes a lot deeper than that.
To be a really strict vegan is to strive to avoid all animal products, and this includes materials like leather, silk and wool, as well as a panoply of cosmetics and medications. The more you dig, the more you learn about products you would never stop to think might contain or involve animal products in their production — like wine and beer (isinglass, a kind of gelatin derived from fish bladders, is often used to “fine,” or purify, these beverages), refined sugar (bone char is sometimes used to bleach it) or Band-Aids (animal products in the adhesive). Just last week I was told that those little comfort strips on most razor blades contain animal fat.
I know Berke Breathed’s pretty hardcore about not letting any ol’ asshole on the internet lift his stuff and I’ll respect his wishes, but damned if the above passage doesn’t cry out for that Bloom County panel with a newly-enlightened Binkley suspended from a tree by a series of ropes and pulleys so he doesn’t step on any bugs.
Anyway, if your intent is to make everyone throw up their hands and go “screw it, let’s go to Burger King,” then you’re doing great.
To go down this road is to stare headlong into an abyss that, to paraphrase Nietzsche, will ultimately stare back at you.
Sure, if by “paraphrase” you mean “butcher.” Seriously, that quote’s quickly gaining on Schroedinger’s Cat in the Motherfuckers Need to Stop Citing Things They Don’t Grok Olympics.
The challenges faced by a vegan don’t end with the nuts and bolts of material existence. You face quite a few social difficulties as well, perhaps the chief one being how one should feel about spending time with people who are not vegans.
Lemme help you out here. Don’t. Just stay home; the cognitive dissonance’ll take care of itself. We’ll find a way to get by without your sparkling conversation and the way you light up a room.
Is it O.K. to eat dinner with people who are eating meat?
Depends on the range of your judgmentalism-rays, I guess. My holier-than-thou blast radius only extends a few feet, so I gotta be right there at the table.
What do you say when a dining companion says, “I’m really a vegetarian — I don’t eat red meat at home.” (I’ve heard it lots of times, always without any prompting from me.)
Well, you could gently explain to them what “vegetarian” actually means. Me, I’d make fun of ‘em outright, but good-natured ribbing is a pretty advanced move, and you’re still at the stage where you can’t abide the company of people who don’t adhere note-by-note to your rigid worldview, so maybe leave that one to the experts.
What do you do when someone starts to grill you (so to speak) about your vegan ethics during dinner? (Wise vegans always defer until food isn’t around.)
Answer their questions if they’re asking in good faith. Tell them to get bent if they’re just trying to hassle you.
This test is easy! You must preside over the blowoff class to end all blowoff classes.
Or when someone starts to lodge accusations to the effect that you consider yourself morally superior to others, or that it is ridiculous to worry so much about animals when there is so much human suffering in the world? (Smile politely and ask them to pass the seitan.)
The former’s a little tricky. I’d say something like “well, yeah, when it comes to this particular issue on which I’ve made a concerted effort to act and consume within certain moral guidelines, I’d like to think I’m ahead of the ethical curve, sure, but it’s not like I’m out there exposing child labor-law violations and teaching homeless people how to ace job interviews, so no, i don’t fancy myself better than everybody else.”
In your case, you’re hampered by the fact that you’ve just published an op-ed in a widely-circulated newspaper about how you’re morally superior to others, so you don’t have as much wiggle room.
As for the latter, I’d just go with dry derision, maybe “right on, and why bother exercising when we’re all gonna die?” But that’s me; The Argument from Hey Why Worry About Bad Things When There are Worse Things is my least favorite logical fallacy, narrowly edging out the Famous Person one.
Let me be candid: By and large, meat-eaters are a self-righteous bunch. The number of vegans I know personally is ... five. And I have been a vegan for almost 15 years, having been a vegetarian for almost 15 before that.
This goes back to what I was saying about the language’s pliability, but isn’t “being candid” generally understood to mean expressing an uncomfortable truth about oneself, not taking a swipe at someone else?
I’m not even sure what the first sentence has to do with the rest of it. You were probably going for something along the lines of Jim Henley’s observation that “in daily life vegetarians and vegans are more sinned against than sinning when it comes to food evangelism” (hey, I’m 2 for 2 at finding a Palin tie-in for posts that don’t have anything to do with Palin), but that’s just a guess. Maybe the connective tissue got cut to make room for those three paragraphs on the Algernon-mit-umlauts bit.
Five. I have lost more friends than this over arguments about animal ethics.
Yeah, well, we’ve established that you suck at friendship, so no surprise there.
One lapidary conclusion to be drawn here is that people take deadly seriously the prerogative to use animals as sources of satisfaction.
I had to look up “lapidary,” and it has something to do with diamond-cutting; I Googled around in an attempt to figure out what exactly you mean with this particular usage but that search just led back to your essay. I’d call bullshit, but given your area of scholarship, that seems superfluous.
Not only for food, but as beasts of burden, as raw materials and as sources of captive entertainment — which is the way animals are used in zoos, circuses and the like.
More data supporting my long-held hypothesis that smart people are morons. See, if you’re of barely-average intelligence like me, it’s pretty goddamn obvious that there’s a world of difference between a zoo that provides sanctuary and Barnum & Bailey’s House of Pain. And honestly, think about a petting zoo—the very definition of captive entertainment. That is a great life for an animal. Can I assume you’re one of those crunchmeisters who just automatically defer to the wisdom of the natural order? Because let’s face facts: Mother Nature is monstrously cruel. I like trolling Wiccans as much as the next guy but I’m 100% in earnest when I say the hell with that Gaia bitch.
These uses of animals are so institutionalized, so normalized, in our society that it is difficult to find the critical distance needed to see them as the horrors that they are: so many forms of subjection, servitude and — in the case of killing animals for human consumption and other purposes — outright murder.
Which is why you’d think it would be a good thing that people have grown increasingly concerned with how animals are treated by our institutions, but I guess not.
People who are ethical vegans believe that differences in intelligence between human and non-human animals have no moral significance whatsoever. The fact that my cat can’t appreciate Schubert’s late symphonies and can’t perform syllogistic logic does not mean that I am entitled to use him as an organic toy, as if I were somehow not only morally superior to him but virtually entitled to treat him as a commodity with minuscule market value.
Cards on the table time. I’ve basically devoted my life to cats (a full life requires one to be a do-gooder in some facet, and I just don’t have the temperament to be a Big Brother or a Meals on Wheels driver; I like the recipients of my charity to keep their mouths shut and my feet warm). My apartment is a tangle of kennels and enclosures so that I can always take in a feral in need, I’ve got a good-to-excellent placement record (I wish I had a better record—feel free to read that as “I wish I didn’t have seven cats”), and I’ve managed to parlay experience as a vet tech into a steady (if perilously low) income doing, essentially, home hospice care for fuzzballs past their prime. Felis silvestris catus is the closest thing I have to a raison d’etre. All that said, I can’t imagine how you’re supposed to treat your cat other than as an organic toy.
What’re you doing, just sitting there respecting his autonomy? Yeah, I’m sure he prefers that to you playing with him. And he might have something to say to Gombiner about that mouse, specifically, “you gonna finish that?”
Speaking of, how can you live your ideals with a pure carnivore in the house? What do you feed him, killing-floor supervisors?
Steiner, you strike me as an animal rights type as opposed to someone interested in animal welfare. The terms are often used interchangeably, but try accusing either type of being the other type; the ensuing shitstorm’ll clear up any confusion. “Animal rights” is nonsense. They don’t have any. Neither do you, frankly, but thanks to thumbs and advances in cerebral cortex technology, you’re the beneficiary of a long history of negotiation.
The animal rights crowd is friggin’ dangerous. Not to society at large, mind you, and certainly not to the real culprits. To animals. Go liberate some lab-rats sometime and see what happens. Long story short, it’s not just because they can’t talk that they won’t thank you for it.
Okay, that’s glib. The real danger is the same as that posed by all purity fetishists; failure to engage in the process by which gains are made. If you give a damn about this issue, we need you in the trenches, man, not off to the side calling us hypocrites for using toiletries.
I mean, if you’re convinced that humans just shouldn’t have dominion over animals, full-stop, I guess that’s defensible, but you could actually do some real, non-abstract creatures a world of good by helping to financially support farmers that treat ‘em well and tear up a little at slaughtering time.
We have been trained by a history of thinking of which we are scarcely aware to view non-human animals as resources we are entitled to employ in whatever ways we see fit in order to satisfy our needs and desires.
Again, I feel like the whole intro about how much more thoughtful we’ve come to be on this subject has some bearing here, but I can’t tell, since reading that sentence is like performing unanesthetized vivisection on my eyes.
Yes, there are animal welfare laws. But these laws have been formulated by, and are enforced by, people who proceed from the proposition that animals are fundamentally inferior to human beings. At best, these laws make living conditions for animals marginally better than they would be otherwise — right up to the point when we send them to the slaughterhouse.
Yeah, I hate it when stuff improves incrementally. I much prefer those overnight transformations that happen all the fucking time, like how blacks had it really bad for a while there but then Lincoln signed that thing and POOF all better.
And about this “inferior” business. Look, I agree that humans aren’t “superior” to other mammals in much the same way that a car isn’t “superior” to a bicycle. But it kind of is, y’know what I mean?
Think about that when you’re picking out your free-range turkey, which has absolutely nothing to be thankful for on Thanksgiving. All it ever had was a short and miserable life, thanks to us intelligent, compassionate humans.
Yeah, fuck you too. And for what it’s worth, if there’s such a thing as heaven, and if animals are allowed in, they’re gonna be a hell of a lot happier to see omnivore Temple Grandin than your morally unsullied ass, homeboy. While you’ve been wringing your hands, those who wouldn’t pass muster at one of your hemp-milk-tasting parties have been out there getting theirs dirty, and getting results. Y’know, the results you explicitly referred to before turning the whole piece into a flagrant attempt to get into Ingrid Newkirk’s pants.*
*This should not be read to imply that it’s necessarily wrong to play a little loose with the facts to snag a PETA babe; when someone’s got a killer body and likes to paint it up with tiger-stripes, you really don’t have any choice but to help her break into a South Street Seaport restaurant and reintroduce the lobster-tank residents to the wild.
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 11/22/09 at 08:54 PM • Permalink
Categories: Critters • Food • Messylaneous • Politics •

