On Sunday, perusing as is my pretentious wont, the Weekend Australian Magazine (actually I never read the Australian; it was a one-off), I read a column that I can't locate online in my lunch hour, but which I assure you exists, about the break in the farm-to-fork continuum that allows self-proclaimed animal lovers to chow down on Daisy, Wilbur or Lambert whilst simultaneously petting Fido and stroking Fluffy.
Today's Age contains this column, slightly more academic and pointed, but in the same vein. I hope that the 'conscious forgetting' of Jonathan Safran Foer that the author refers to is getting more and more forgotten itself, but it does at least seem that this issue is getting more media airtime. I hope that someone, reading the weekend paper with a cup of coffee on the couch (or beer if you're like me), glanced down at faithful Ralph or Rex or King or Duke or Bailey or Sam, and then reconsidered their plan for a pig sandwich for lunch and a baby sheep roast for dinner.
On the second anniversary of my veganism – my veganniversary – I have been noticing how my understanding has changed since mid-September 2007, when I had a Skinny Bitch-inspired epiphany at my desk.
I have broadened, and somewhat deepened, my understanding of animal rights and welfarism; I have read and read about food equity and down-the-chain cruelties to humans and animals alike. I am better informed and more widely read – and so I suppose it is inevitable that I have noticed changes in how I feel.
I am, two years on, both more and less committed to mainstreaming. I began with the firm conviction that I would do best if I was open and calm, and I still believe wholeheartedly that if I am the only vegan many of my friends know, then the example I set is especially important. I can be most influential when I am most approachable. To this end, I try to be reasonable, rational and intelligent about my positions, and relaxed about social eatering situations. I try bring food to share, and not put my hosts out. I try to adopt an equitable discussion style and I believe very much that although I decry the happy meat-schmappy schmeat movement, that when someone is proud enough of the changes they have made in their lives to buy organic meat or free-range eggs, that I should tell them that I am proud of them too. I believe that to critique someone else’s choices in these situations is counter-productive and plain rude. When they are ready to talk more, I will be ready to talk with them.
I want veganism to become mainstream so that it is accessible and understandable, and a market force. I want veganism to be normalised and demystified and I want it to become as widespread as possible. I see this as the way in which what was originally such a tiny, fringe movement can spread its message and practices to people who may otherwise have no understanding or knowledge of what we do and why we do it.
But I have also noticed that I have developed a small resistance. I find it harder and harder to be silent and I find that my thoughts as I watch someone devour their meaty dinner are more and more filled with disbelief and frustration. I feel this more keenly and more often that I did two years ago. I am more aware, and I am more committed, and I think this has lowered my tolerance threshold.
I have also found friends. Through blogging, potlucking and writing I have found a whole community, spread beyond the Veganville of Brunswick to Perth, Sydney, Brisbane, Townsville, Chicago and those who I know only through their comments. I have found people who I both like and admire, and to meet people who you not only respect but whose company you enjoy is a pleasure.
Although my primary motivation is animals, I know and believe that I am also doing the right thing for the environment and for my health, and that sustains my belief in veganism as a lifestyle, not a diet like locavism or a practice like recycling. It is an everything. There is nothing that would make me want to go back, and there is nothing that would make me feel that I had to.
This is especially relevant as I look towards the next few years of my life which I hope will contain babies and little creatures running around a noisy house. I am certain that having a vegan pregnancy will only benefit both me and my baby, which stems from my deep conviction that a typical vegan diet is three quadzillion times better for you than a typical omnivorous one, and that a consciously healthy vegan diet (the one in which I give up BBQ shapes, beer, chips and spring rolls) will give me the healthiest pregnancy possible, and my babies the healthiest body and mind I can give.
I like to think that I spread a little understanding amongst those I know who don’t know any other vegans. If I can at least cause one omnivore to say to another “Oh, I know a vegan. She’s ok”, then I’ve done a little dance and made a little love, and next time, one omnivore might say to another “Oh, she’s not a pain in the arse”, and the time after that, one omnivore might say to another “I don’t agree with her, but maybe she’s got something sensible to say”, and the time after that, one omnivore might say to another “Let’s not order steak tonight”.
At least, I like to think that I debunk a stereotype. That is, there is a place for the peace-loving, mung-bean-eating, hemp-wearing, loopy-doopy hippie, and there is a place for the activist, militant ALF types. But their place is where they are, and my place is here.
I have never doubted nor wavered in my knowledge that this is it, forever.
While I'm on media reviews, this month's Cleo (yes, I buy it sometimes; yes I tear open the sealed sections with undue haste; no I don't take the quizzes unless I think I'll come out looking good) has an article by Bessie Recep entitled "The Meat Backlash", which is situated in the extra-special-super-duper freebie Body magazine.
It's not a bad article; I quite liked the handy field guide to veggies, although I was unaware of the species Demi Vegetarian, who apparently "stick to a vegetarian diet most of the time", and a couple of other genii which I suspect were cobbled together by a well-intentioned but somewhat confused omni. They included some boxed quotes from poster children Leona Lewis, Alicia Silverstone, Natale Portman and Kristen Bell - nothing like a celebrity endorsement!
The article focusses on the environmental, health and financial reasons for turning veggie, and it does that well. It flat out denies the myth that you need meat for essential nutrients, states clearly that meat farming is ecologically disastrous, and points out that meat is also more costly (in the casharoonie sense).
However, the article leaves out almost any mention of the animal-related reasons that make so many of us choose to ditch the meat and more. Jackie O is quoted on what I will choose to interpret as the farm to fork continuum:
"Some people think it [meat] magically appears on their plate, but there are a lot of processes an animal has to go through along the way. When I thought about it in depth, I thought 'This isn't how I want to eat'."
But that's about it. I realise that in this forum an in-depth, gory, no-holds-barred description of all the details is inappropriate - Cleo is marketed to 18-34 year olds but is frequently read by younger people, and I'm pretty wary of exposing very young people to things they may have had no previous awareness of. I don't think making a little girl cry is really the way we should want to go. Also, the article is placed within a health supplement so a health focus is certainy appropriate. However, having virtually no reference to the animal welfare/rights concerns that are so influential in so many peoples' decisions seems to me to be a bit of a cop out.
Still ... it's nice to have a positive, sensible, accessible and otherwise pretty accurate article out there in a magzine with wide circulation and readers who most likely are as yet unexposed to veg*ism.
This article cropped up today in The Age’s epicure. Following on the heels of their two page spread on veganism, and with a whisper in the wind about a feature on vegetarianism en route, one can’t help but wonder whether someone over there is running a line.
The article by Necia Wilden addresses the gaps and blindness in the farm to fork continuum, and her attempt to face her dinner. Necia travels to an anonymous farm to watch the slaughter of a 14 month old lamb by Farmer Rob.
It’s a thoughtful piece, which raises questions which beyond the scope of the article to answer, and she is honest with herself about many things:
- Her ‘prejudice’ in favour of pigs:
Irrationally, the only thing making me feel a little better about being here is that it's a sheep and not a pig. This is partly because of something Rob had said earlier, that the saddest place to visit is a pig abattoir, "because pigs are sensitive and intelligent animals and you can hear them screaming".
- Her underwhelming reaction to the slaughter and how it may have been different :
Would I have reacted differently if I'd gone to an abattoir? What if it had been a pig? Or it had endured a less merciful death?
Yes, you would. This lamb’s comparatively quick and easy death is no match for the bloody, torturous, and cruel slaughterhouse where sheep are often still alive and aware as they have their throats cut, plunged into boiling water, their skin torn off and their limbs torn off. But you won’t be allowed in a slaughterhouse – and that should tell you more about the disconnection between farm and fork than anything else.
The article pricks a number of myths dearly-held by many omnivores, hauling them out into the sun:
The fact is we live in an age that has taken us further from the source of our food than any other in history. … An age in which we have forgotten - or are choosing to ignore -where all the truckloads of meat we eat really come from.
and:
Or even the simple fact that many people see no contradiction in voicing outrage at cruelty to dogs and cats while they're enjoying a breakfast of bacon from factory-farmed pigs and eggs from battery-farmed hens.
However, there are a number of assumptions and prejudices that Necia does not confront, or indeed even acknowledge. One is her belief that by simply being able to face the death of an animal, or to know that it was killed ‘humanely’, it entitles her to eat it without compunction:
I wanted to reconnect, if only fleetingly, with the culture of my grandparents' era, when wringing a chook's neck in the backyard was no big deal.
We saw no evidence of suffering. I don't believe she knew what hit her. As Rob says afterwards: "The most traumatic thing for this sheep was being photographed."
Presumably it was a big deal for the chook. All this, of course, leads to the ‘happy meat’ conclusion:
I do, however, make a pledge to myself to be stricter in my policy of eating only organic or genuinely free-range animals, in the hope that the improved quality of their lives translates to an improved quality of death.
… and the self-justifying comment:
There is also, as our photographer Simon Schluter says, an amazing display of skill by Rob.
"If I were a sheep," he says later, "I'd want to be killed by this bloke."
Wow. Lucky sheep.
Throughout the article a number of logical voids appear which are not recognised. The presence of Meg, the anthropomorphically-named sheepdog, is one darkly ironic one. Meg, of course, is not food.
For example, Rob’s position on which sheep are fit for slaughter:
He wouldn't harvest a pregnant lamb. Neither would he harvest a baby, despite the fact suckling lambs are said to be great eating.
"Morally it doesn't seem right to harvest the ones that are four weeks old," he says. "I won't do that."
Presumably morals, like lifeboats, are only for women and children. You may also note the term ‘harvest’.
His opinion about pigs:
… something Rob had said earlier, that the saddest place to visit is a pig abattoir, "because pigs are sensitive and intelligent animals and you can hear them screaming".
The argument about intelligence is surely over, or do we need to repeat the Singer/newborn/mentally challenged argument?
… and his unintentional flash of insight:
"Can you see that what has happened here is a crossover, a transformation?" he says. "It is no longer something that's living and growing but a food."
Exactly. I believe this is what Necia is actually trying to get at. The salient point is that it is no longer something that’s living and growing because he slit its throat, not because it is inherently intended to be food.
Rob continues:
He has never focused on cutting the throat. "You would be a bit sick to focus on that little bit. You're focused on creating food for the table. It's just a job that needs to be done.
"When you hunt and gather, that's a normal part of life. If you didn't grow the vegetables, if you didn't kill the animals, the cupboard would be bare."
Neither of these statements stands up to even the lightest scrutiny (except the bit about being sick to focus on the throat slitting. Dare I suggest that you must be something else to actually do it?). You do not need to create food for the table in this way, nor would the cupboard be even slightly bare without it. We are not hunter gatherers, nor do we think with our canine teeth (thanks for that one, Janice). What's more, the inestimable difference between vegteable and animal militates against any comparison. We live in a time and place where we are in no way obliged to rely on meat to sustain us, nor is it a necessity for our health. Using this kind of utilitarian argument is an emotional shield against the sheer needlessness of slaughter.
Necia ends with a number of interesting comments. She writes, quite correctly, that:
the food industry will continue to avoid scrutiny only for as long as it can depend on a quiescent public.
I would add to that also that the meat industry will avoid scrutiny as long as it refuses access to its operations by journalists and authors; continues to spend vast amounts of money on lobbying, ‘research’ and advertising; and continues to help us move further and further away from the farm by presenting us with pre-slaughtered, pre-butchered, unrecognizably-presented, euphemistically-named, shrink-wrapped trays in the supermarket at artificially low prices.
I am somewhat confused by Necia’s closing statements:
For me, I am aware, like never before, that I am eating flesh. This is not an unpleasant sensation, and it certainly adds another dimension to dinner. … To paraphrase the old adage: Hunger is probably still the best sauce. But now I know that gratitude runs a close second.
Perhaps if she had engaged a little more with the lamb that was to become her dinner; read a little more about practices in commercial animal raising operations, and done a little more questioning of her positions on the role of animals as food, she would have come to a different conclusion. Perhaps I am just too revolted by the idea of finding the sensation and thought of eating flesh pleasant … but then I’m vegan. Grateful though, I cannot understand. There was no need to eat the lamb; its body did not sustain you in a time of famine, nor did it willingly go to the slaughter (excuse the awful pun). It, like all animals, did not allow itself to be killed. I am reminded of the recent German case in which it was found that a person cannot consent to being killed and eaten.
Despite the limited scope of the article, I feel that had Necia looked and thought a little harder she may have interrogated her own prejudices a little more deeply. Nonetheless, this is an article that actively looks at, thinks about and talks about the farm to fork continuum, and makes a number of interesting comments about the increasing alienation of most people from the source of their food.
