Food, Change, and the V Word

Shortly after making the switch from lacto-ovo vegetarianism to veganism, I picked up a wonderful book titled The Pig Who Sang to the Moon: The Emotional World of Farm Animals. Had I not already made the switch, I wouldn't have made it through the book without doing so (and indeed, the vegetarian author became a vegan as a result of researching and writing the book).  Because so many people, including many vegetarians and vegans, simply don't realize how complex and wide-ranging nonhuman animals' emotions, thoughts, and relationships really are, I've been encouraging people to read it ever since reading it myself. The stories contained within are funny, devastating, heartwarming, and astonishing. I am honored today to share a guest post from the author of that book (and a couple dozen others), Jeff Masson, whose most recent work, The Face on Your Plate: The Truth About Food, will be published in March. -SE
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There is a scent of change in the air these days when it comes to food. More and more Americans are concerned about where the food they eat comes from. Is it local? Is it organic? Does it come from a small farmer? People are turning away from the large conglomerates that produce most of our food for good reasons: they recognize that these agribusinesses are harming our planet and our health. Books like Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser and Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan (who was even being suggested as a possible food czar--President Barack Obama read his "Letter to the Next President" and seems to have taken in the lessons), the work of Alice Waters of Chez Panisse fame in school gardens, and the efforts of many other authors, chefs, and food activists are increasing the general public's knowledge and sensitivity to matters of great concern to our future.

I am impressed--I am even awed. But I am also greatly concerned that far deeper-reaching concerns are not in the forefront of these authors' minds and works. I refer to the 10 billion animals a year who are killed (if the word "murder" were not so loaded with human freight, it would be a far more descriptive term) for their flesh. My two boys, 12 and 7, recently asked me about this: "Dad, can it really be true? Do we really kill that many animals every year in the United States, just to eat them?"

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I know, I know. They are vegetarians. They are brainwashed by their vegan parents; one is a writer about animal feelings, and the other a pediatrician who cares deeply for their health as well as the health of the animals. How do we explain it? Or rather, try out the same thought experiment they did: What would we say to visitors from another planet who looked on, appalled: "You mean you eat living beings?? Why??" We would not have a very strong case to make, would we? Would we attempt to tell them how hard some people are working to find them better cages, roomier prisons, swifter deaths? (Not that these are not perfectly understandable goals--but how imperfect. What was the classic comparison? Oh yes, like planting flowerbeds in Bergen-Belsen.) Have they done something wrong, to deserve the death penalty? Are these killer animals? Are we completely unable to live without killing them? No, no, and no.

We kill them and eat them because we can and because we like the taste of their flesh. That's all. There is really no other reason that can stand up to even the most superficial scrutiny. This has been recognized, debated, and analyzed for thousands of years now. I am not saying anything new. But believe me, when you try to explain it to a child, when their look of disbelief sears into you, it is a strange moment. We are so used to seeing the flesh of once-living beings on our plates, in our stores, and in cookbooks that we hardly give it a moment's pause. But it is pause-worthy, as much so as anything our species does. Let me repeat: we, our species, kill 50 billion animals every year around the world to give our palates pleasure. We don't need to, but we do. Each and every one of those animals wished to live, did us no harm, and was a being with a rich inner life, a circle of friends, and a family, and these animals feel some emotions even more powerfully than does our species. "Are Earth's humans out of their minds?" these visitors from another planet might ask. The answer, coming from this ex-director of the Freud Archives, has to be, I suppose so.

I know I am not alone here: many of you have, at some point, stood stock still and asked in disbelief, "what am I doing, eating this former being? Have I lost my mind?" Is there a single person who has not cried watching the suffering of an animal? We recognize the commonality, and we see the similarity. One day, it will come to be seen as the single greatest shame of our species, of this I am persuaded. Have you ever studied the topic of human genocides in history? Indeed, I have. It obsesses me. But here is the difference: the vast majority of human beings raise their voices in protest. Nobody thinks genocide is a good thing, a badge of superiority. But when it comes to killing animals and eating them, the vast majority of human beings make not a peep of protest. Few are ashamed. Few think it is a blot on our record. One day, I am sure, that will change.