Forest’s memory went back to the last time he had seen his older brother, Caleb. He had been in the first grade; it was late in the afternoon of a weekday in mid May. He could smell the honeysuckle in the air. Forest was crouched Indian style in the driveway with a barbeque lighter in his right hand. Passing in a crooked undulating stream in front of him, an army of ants crept along parallel to a crack in the cement. Forest would lean forward and, with the lighters flame turned up to maximum capacity, incinerate a hole in the stream. The ant bodies would curl up instantly and the survivors would flee at an accelerated pace. The stream behind where the flamethrower had laid waste to their order would adjust its course and eventually catch up with the rest of the horde. At this point, Forest would hit them again, bringing about flaming death as if he were God. He felt omnipotent over the ants and their meaningless plight and the ants, moving about robotically with little or no apparent reasoning to back their actions seemed too stupid to figure out what was happening and change their course.
Caleb, tall and with eyes that radiated intelligence, emerged from the garage. He had confiscated two full-blooded bulldog puppies, obviously somebody’s recently acquired pets, which had been randomly passing through his yard one afternoon. He had them locked up in the garage until he could sell them. He was careful in shutting the door not to smash little paws. Caleb strode forward slowly in heavy boots, exhaling cigarette smoke with every step towards where Forest was seated. Forest was about to incinerate another point in the trail when Caleb, realizing exactly what Forest was doing, reached forward and grabbed Forest’s wrist.
“What are you doing? Don’t kill. Bugs have their place. The world, nature, is comprised of a delicate balance, a series of compromises. Who are you to offset this balance? Let the ants be ants. You would not want this type of undeserved interference and destruction in your life if you were to have to at some point play a role similar to that of the ants you are killing.” Caleb said this mechanically without emotion. This was a matter of fact to him. “Do you receive joy in killing?” Caleb asked with a condescending tone.
“Do you enjoy stealing?” Forest retorted haughtily.
Caleb flicked his cigarette away forcefully. “Look me in the eyes, Forest. Look me in the eyes. Those dogs are full-blooded animals. Someone had so much money that they could afford to be that selective. There are thousands of pets destroyed daily in shelters. Thousands, Forest. Pets that would love homes, pets that are free. Are those two animals in that garage that much better than the thousands of pets that are destroyed daily? For the price of those two dogs, you could save the lives of fifty or sixty other non full-blooded animals. The people who bought those dogs felt that they were too good, that their perfectly miserable flaming existences were absolutely too precious to have anything other than the most expensive of possessions. Life is not a possession. We, you and I, are not full blooded, Forest.” Caleb released Forest’s wrist. Forest was rattled and looked shamefully down at the black and red patches of incinerated ants on the concrete. “Give me the lighter,” Caleb said.
--taken from the unpublished novel "Hanging Mate," (2002) by George Hayduke
Remember the first time you ate meat?
Probably not. It was fed to you when you were so small you likely didn't know what it was you were eating and eating was something you at times had to be told to do. It might even be the case that your first bites of meat were put into your mouth by your mother, who had to tell you to open your mouth, to close it, to chew and to swallow if you didn't want to be in trouble.
Later at some point certainly you asked why it was you were eating dead animal and chances are high that this question rose after you first saw an example, either in a photograph or in real life, of the beasties from which meat comes.
And we all know what the answer was. "Animals are lesser than humans. They are lower on the food chain. We are higher on the food chain. Therefore it is only natural that we eat meat." These may have not been the exact words used, but the idea that we are somehow superior to animals was most certainly conveyed.
At the basis of this explanation is an idea of a supposedly universally accepted pecking order. That pecking order transcends our mindset on our diets and enters almost every aspect of our daily lives. It is used to rationalize starvation, strife and disease in both faraway lands and at home. It is used to perpetuate oppression of workers, women and minorities. And it is a mindset without factual basis.
Anybody who has lived long enough to own multiple pets has lived long enough to watch some of them die and to replace them. Nobody will ever suggest that two cats have the same personality. In fact, many people will claim to "know" that each cat is different, both physiologically and psychologically, from every other cat. In other words, each cat is an individual in so many ways.
Going further, many people recognize what translates into human emotions in their pets. A dog wags its tail, smiles even and dances around when it is reunited with its owner after he or she has been away at work for the day, which by the way translates to seven dog days, no small span of time if you are a canine. Conversely, the tail goes between the legs and whimpers are emitted when a dog expresses what translates to the human emotion of sadness.
Based on our behaviors and the way we treat some animals, it would seem that it is universally "known" that dogs and cats have, to be anthropomorphic, "personalities" and identities.
Yet, strangely enough, we turn around and treat the animals whose body parts we consume as if they were living robots, void of individuality, who are to be managed and slaughtered and cooked to keep our bellies full. We rationalize raising these animals in the worst of conditions in factory farms because that is naturally what happens to beings ranked lower than us on the grand pecking order.
This, my friends, is a prime example of Orwellian "doublethink." In truth it is either one way or the other. Either animals are individuals, each with tell-tale traits and behaviors so similar to humans that many have a place in our heart of hearts, or they are robots, void of identity and worthy only of being turned into meat for consumption.
This doublethink is then applied to our fellow humans. We explain away homelessness, poverty, hunger and strife as something that afflicts lesser-humans, the ones who are naturally simply filling their deserved lowly roles in the pecking order. We say to ourselves the reason why ubercompetitor and money-cult priest Bill Gates has what he has is because he embodies qualities that put him higher on the grand pecking order and allow him to lead a life of incredible decadence while the Vietnamese child working 20-hour days in a sweat shop cranking out running shoes for export to America is in such a miserable predicament because that is where her place in the grand pecking order lands her.
Contrary to what some might believe, there is no universal pecking order based on competition. Evidences suggests that instead there a system of relations based mostly on cooperation. For the sake of brevity, we'll look at only one example of this system of relations.
Lions are carnivores, no doubt about it. Their various parts include sharp incisors, claws and a short digestive track built to quickly emit undigested meat before it goes bad within them. Lions also lead lives that often appear to be dominated by a struggle against starvation. They will go days on end without eating. When stalking prey, they take their time, no matter how hungry they are. They slowly inch up on the impala, every muscle poised for strike at any moment, yet the entire beast seemingly locked in a meditative mindset that allows them to arrive at the exact right instant and distance to make a successful kill. Their success rate varies. This sort of approach to feeding oneself implies great respect for that which eventually becomes food. Through its behavior, the lion, when it hunts the impala, expresses an awareness of the individuality of its prey. Also, it is universally recognized that lions typically make off with the weak, the sick and the old. Few lions are foolish enough to attempt to take down the mightiest and smartest of the impalas.
What this reflects is a degree of cooperation. The lion species weeds out the sickest, oldest and weakest of whatever populations it feeds on and fulfilling such a role comes at no small cost to the lion population: not infrequent starvation.
Similarly, human relations are much more given to cooperation than to competition. Were Bill Gates really worth the money he has, then certainly he could repair his own car without issue, feed himself, maintain his own property and teach his own kids. Of course this is anything but the case. Yet it is somehow within the communal conscious rationalized that he lives a life of endless opulence while the high school-educated mother of three works two jobs flipping burgers making pittance pay and leads a life dominated by the strife of the environs within which she is forced to live due to her incredibly low income.
Imagine for once what would happen to Bill Gates if all the restaurant and food service workers of the world, including his own private team of cooks and chefs, suddenly put down their spatulas and decided to never work again. Mr. Gates might not starve, but his life would become radically complicated almost immediately. And if at the same time all the mechanics, who also make a pittance pay in comparison to Mr. Gates, suddenly stopped working, then the plot would definitely thicken.
The point should now be obvious. Bill Gates is what he is not because of his own personal traits and characteristics alone, but because of a world of human cooperation that lends him the opportunity to achieve what he has achieved, if we are to call what he has done, becoming an all-out master of Machiavellian dominance in his field, an achievement.
Similarly the human species is not the lord of a planet of robots and resources to be consumed but a cooperating participant in the world ecosystem. Nonetheless, it is important to those who hope to perpetuate the myth of the grand pecking order that we continue to engage in dangerous doublethink about animals and our fellow humans. Until we break from this doublethink, war, strife, inequity and oppression will be the norm as it has been since the dawn of civilization. Start today to break from this pattern by giving up flesh foods.
Consume meat not at all or only on a limited basis. It may well change the way you see the world.
--George Hayduke
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