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ed_rexAs I think I've mentioned before, I've dropped about 30 pounds in the past six months. The process began as the silver lining to the cloud of misery that was my break-up with Laura - for once, sadness and rage led me to eat less instead of more.
When I realized what was going on, though, I started paying attention to my diet. More to the point, with how much I was eating, not what I was eating, since I have always eaten well. Living on Kraft Dinner and potato chips has never been my style.
That said, the quality of my diet has changed in a couple of significant ways since I stopped cooking for two. On the one hand, I've been eating a lot more fruits and vegetables, along with such things as granola, nuts and cheese, while on the other, I have been eating much less meat, largely because - used to cooking for two people - what I would cook would far too often go bad in the fridge.
I have by no means become a vegetarian (let alone a vegan), but having now often gone days in a row without the flesh of an animal passing through my gullet, I have come to the gut-level realization that vegetarianism is not an impossibility for me.
A couple of weeks ago, fadefromnothing posted an impassioned rant about the evils of carnivorism. From a strictly pragmatic point-of-view, I thought her piece was poor propaganda - too easy to dismiss it as "emotional" (that the argument, that basing a belief on one's feelings is "irrational" is bogus is an argument for another time) - but I had a hard time rebutting the rational arguments that underlay her feelings. In fact, I found it impossible to do so.
Getting away from the anger underlying that post, I find three basic points to Sidra's argument:
(Sidra further compared our modern willingness to torture and slaughter our fellow (thinking and feeling) animals to women's rights, slavery and concentration camps. And, though the comparisons may seem over-the-top to you, when you think about it, the idea is hard (impossible?) to rebut.)
Last Saturday, after my friend Vernski and I had talked ourselves out about Borat, I paraphrased Sidra's post, and described my discomfort in the fact I had been unable to argue against it.
Now Vernski, despite his long-term co-habitation with a vegetarian, is to my mind notoriously carnivorous. Where I make stir-fries, he broils thick, bloody steaks.
And so I was more than a little surprised when he agreed with me (and with Sidra).
Yes, he said, there is no justification for eating meat, no more than there was for the slave trade in the 18th century, or than there is now for sex tours of daycare centres in Thailand.
And yet, we both acknowledged, that this intellectual understanding of a moral fact was not going to stop either of us from frying up some bacon in the morning.
I like to think that I am a pretty good human being. I try not to lie, I make a point of not taking advantage of the weak or vulnerable and on at least a couple of occasions I have fought down fear and put my face on the line to protect a stranger from possible violence by people who could most likely have easily broken my body the way a child smashes her grand-mother's antique china tea-cup.
Long story short, Vernski and I agreed that eating meat is wrong. And yet we also agreed we will both continue to consume the flesh of what were once living, thinking and feeling creatures, into the foreseable future.
If you grant (as I do) that he and I are at the very least reasonably good people, how do you explain our willingness to engage in a practice we both agree is - in a word - evil? How is it that I am not emotionally tortured by the dichotomy between what I think and what I feel?
[Edit: According to this month's Harper's, "The United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization warned that livestock such as cows, pigs, sheep and chickens are among the world's top three environmental threats:the agency said that livestock production, largely driven by the demand for meat, pollutes water, destroys biodiversity, and, when the entire production cycle is taken into account, produces more greenhouse gases than the transportation sector."]
When I realized what was going on, though, I started paying attention to my diet. More to the point, with how much I was eating, not what I was eating, since I have always eaten well. Living on Kraft Dinner and potato chips has never been my style.
That said, the quality of my diet has changed in a couple of significant ways since I stopped cooking for two. On the one hand, I've been eating a lot more fruits and vegetables, along with such things as granola, nuts and cheese, while on the other, I have been eating much less meat, largely because - used to cooking for two people - what I would cook would far too often go bad in the fridge.
I have by no means become a vegetarian (let alone a vegan), but having now often gone days in a row without the flesh of an animal passing through my gullet, I have come to the gut-level realization that vegetarianism is not an impossibility for me.
A couple of weeks ago, fadefromnothing posted an impassioned rant about the evils of carnivorism. From a strictly pragmatic point-of-view, I thought her piece was poor propaganda - too easy to dismiss it as "emotional" (that the argument, that basing a belief on one's feelings is "irrational" is bogus is an argument for another time) - but I had a hard time rebutting the rational arguments that underlay her feelings. In fact, I found it impossible to do so.
I don't care how good murder tastes. It is archaic, brutal, unecessary, and unethical. By supporting the industry, you are supporting the unecessary torture and death of innocent beings...STOP LYING TO YOURSELF. STOP KILLING PEOPLE AND ANIMALS. (fadefromnothing)
Getting away from the anger underlying that post, I find three basic points to Sidra's argument:
- (Other) animals are thinking and feeling beings;
- We in the rich world have no necessity to consume animal protein; and so,
- It is morally wrong to butcher (other) animals, whether for food, clothing or (presumably especially) for sport.
(Sidra further compared our modern willingness to torture and slaughter our fellow (thinking and feeling) animals to women's rights, slavery and concentration camps. And, though the comparisons may seem over-the-top to you, when you think about it, the idea is hard (impossible?) to rebut.)
Last Saturday, after my friend Vernski and I had talked ourselves out about Borat, I paraphrased Sidra's post, and described my discomfort in the fact I had been unable to argue against it.
Now Vernski, despite his long-term co-habitation with a vegetarian, is to my mind notoriously carnivorous. Where I make stir-fries, he broils thick, bloody steaks.
And so I was more than a little surprised when he agreed with me (and with Sidra).
Yes, he said, there is no justification for eating meat, no more than there was for the slave trade in the 18th century, or than there is now for sex tours of daycare centres in Thailand.
And yet, we both acknowledged, that this intellectual understanding of a moral fact was not going to stop either of us from frying up some bacon in the morning.
I like to think that I am a pretty good human being. I try not to lie, I make a point of not taking advantage of the weak or vulnerable and on at least a couple of occasions I have fought down fear and put my face on the line to protect a stranger from possible violence by people who could most likely have easily broken my body the way a child smashes her grand-mother's antique china tea-cup.
Long story short, Vernski and I agreed that eating meat is wrong. And yet we also agreed we will both continue to consume the flesh of what were once living, thinking and feeling creatures, into the foreseable future.
If you grant (as I do) that he and I are at the very least reasonably good people, how do you explain our willingness to engage in a practice we both agree is - in a word - evil? How is it that I am not emotionally tortured by the dichotomy between what I think and what I feel?
[Edit: According to this month's Harper's, "The United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization warned that livestock such as cows, pigs, sheep and chickens are among the world's top three environmental threats:the agency said that livestock production, largely driven by the demand for meat, pollutes water, destroys biodiversity, and, when the entire production cycle is taken into account, produces more greenhouse gases than the transportation sector."]
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-19 01:13 pm (UTC)Because we have to kill things to get sustanance on account of we can't perform photosynthesis. This myth that mammal and avian lives are somehow worth more than vegitable and fungal lives is exactly that: a touchy-feely myth perpetuated by people who view life in a heirarchy based on how much a life form looks like a human. The more human it looks, the more important it must be. Please.
I agree whole heartedly that everyone should eat less meat on strictly environmental grounds. I eat meat two or three times a week. I *never* eat meat as a center-piece of a meal - i.e. I don't eat steaks, roast chickens, pork chops or whatever. I eat in in quantities like "sausage in a sausage, white bean and vegitable soup" or "ham in a ham and cheese croissant".
Just because you're eating less meat doesn't mean you have to go all extreme and eat NO meat. Just... eat less. All things in moderation, neh?
And don't try to go with the moral argument, it doesn't wash. "Life" is not sacred, it's a way of describing discrete objects we share DNA with. Everything we eat was alive. Some lives are not better than others simply because they have eyes.
Two Reasons, Not Just One
Date: 2007-01-27 03:23 am (UTC)This myth that mammal and avian lives are somehow worth more than vegitable and fungal lives is exactly that: a touchy-feely myth perpetuated by people who view life in a heirarchy based on how much a life form looks like a human.
Is it a myth? That's not a rhetorical question. My knee jerks towards the idea that, the more complex, the more (morally) valuable a life-form is.
As I've said a couple of times now (in response to others), I think morality is a strictly theoretical construct. I do think there is more (moral) value in a cow than there is in a fungus - or maybe I just feel that there is.
No, I think it. In a universe in which life eats life, complexity is the only scale that even approaches being an objective measure of a living thing's "worth".
A mouse's suffering is more morally significant than a fungi's because it has a nervous system and at least a rudimentary consciousness. So far as we know, fungi don't have either. The mouse feels pain, and maybe more complex emotions and we have little or no reason to believe the same is true of the vegetable kingdom.
"Life" is not sacred, it's a way of describing discrete objects we share DNA with. Everything we eat was alive. Some lives are not better than others simply because they have eyes.
Arguably though, some lives are better than others, because they have brains.
Re: Two Reasons, Not Just One
Date: 2007-01-27 03:05 pm (UTC)"Brains" are one form of nervous system distinct only because it's the one we have. I don't think that makes it worth more than anything else.
Yes, you can think anything you want, but remember that human tendancy to heirarchize base on physical similarity has been called racist in the past, and when it's applied to non-humans it's not useful either: we like to save the lives of panda bears and gorillas, but we can't be bothered to get off our asses for frogs and algae even if the latter are the lynchpins for the survival of an ecosystem.
In any case, I don't see the inherant superiority of a central nervous system.
Re: Two Reasons, Not Just One
Date: 2007-01-28 09:29 pm (UTC)Not quite. What I meant was that cows have more complex brains than, for example, a cockroach. I think there is significant evidence in favour of my belief that insects are closer to Descartes' automota than mammals.
"Brains" are one form of nervous system distinct only because it's the one we have. I don't think that makes it worth more than anything else.
On a cosmic scale, "brains" aren't worth more than anything else. However, on a human scale it is at least arguable that they are.
...remember that human tendancy to heirarchize base on physical similarity has been called racist in the past...
This is true, but the mis-application of a tool doesn't mean the tool never has correct applications.
From an evolutionary perspective, the tendency to hierarchize makes a great deal of "sense". Offspring are more "important" than cousins, for instance, because one's offspring carry more of one's genes than one's cousins.
If there is anything close to a biological basis for "morality", it has to be hierarchical, with one's children at the top.
...we like to save the lives of panda bears and gorillas, but we can't be bothered to get off our asses for frogs and algae even if the latter are the lynchpins for the survival of an ecosystem.
Granted, but I don't think that invalidates hierarchism, but only illustrates the dangers of not thinking things through.
In any case, I don't see the inherant superiority of a central nervous system.
I don't either, but I want to. Time alone will tell. If our descendants manage to survive the sun going nova, while the cockroaches are cooked, we'll have our answer.