An out-of-context excerpt from "The Sport of Kings" - a Novel written by C. E. Morgan:
"Whacked steadily from behind by the drovers' staves, each wave of squealing hogs pushes the hogs ahead of them to the slaughter, scrambling and pressing up the stinking ramp made slippery with green shit. Now the first hogs smell base blood over excrement, but are forced ahead into the shadows of that first and last chamber. A bloody-aproned man moves in menace at their far reaches; then one animal is gripped at the pastern above the cloven hoof and dragged, screaming, its left leg clasped in metal, now hauled up by a pulley with a shattering cry, its own weight ripping ball joint from socket so it hangs distorted at the thick hip, screeching its final confession, eyes bulging wide as its neck is sliced and blood jets from its jaw and runs into its eyes. Unable to pass through the slit trachea, the air whistles uselessly. The pig jerks madly and is soon drained pale, eyes bald of life. Now the next one and on and on. All hanging in a line, swaying side to side along the pulley as their bodies are opened, showing waved lines of ribs and vertebrae like the keys of a warped piano, the heads sawn off. Now to the disassembly: a drop onto the table, then quick mechanical thudding, the fall of cleavers, the flinging of component parts---hock, shoulder, loin. In sixty seconds, the hog is gone and meat is made, the dumb passage of life."
A parable on "The Fragmentation of Responsibility" from the British philosopher Jonathan Glover; (paraphrased and retold below):
Once there were 100 bandits who lived in the hills. And in the valley below these hills, there was a village inhabited by 100 villagers. Each Tuesday these 100 villagers sat down to a communal meal of 100 bowls each containing 100 beans. One Tuesday the 100 bandits converged upon the village and each bandit took a bowl of beans from a villager, leaving the entire village to go hungry until Wednesday. The 100 bandits were pleased and repeated the appropriation the following Tuesday. After a few weeks, one bandit spoke up and admitted to feelings of remorse for causing a villager to go hungry every Tuesday. A few other bandits, (though not a majority), also admitted to pangs of guilt. So, after much discussion, being a thoughtful, forward-thinking assemblage of bandits, they continued to raid the village each Tuesday but instead of each bandit absconding with an entire bowl of 100 beans, each bandit took only 1 bean from each of the 100 bowls set in front of each of the 100 villagers. In this manner, no single bandit stole the entirety of any single individual's sustenance or dignity, thus allaying all feelings of guilt and remorse. And the villagers lived hungrily ever after.
On Friday, April 28, I walked away from my comrades in thought and foreswore the life of banditry, for that day.
On Saturday, April 29, I glanced at my former associates and decided to prolong my dissociation, for another day.
Each day since, I have reassessed, and each day I have maintained gastronomic distance from all once-living beast or fowl; though I have continued to partake of fish and seafood. After making this decision, repeatedly, I discovered that there is a word for me: I am a "pescatarian." It feels like a philosophical statement moreso than a decision based on health or bandwagon considerations, which I believe to be the two primary motivations for one to change their diet. I consider "gluten-free" as more likely to be an example of the bandwagon, and the elimination of red meat as more likely to be an example of a health consideration. Additionally, many claiming ethical considerations are jumping on the bandwagon. Regardless, I also believe that within any dietary decision, including and perhaps especially a vegan, vegetarian, or semi-vegetarian/flexitarian diet, there is some measure of thoughtful personal philosophy.
But to be truthful, I have so far been unable to solidify this gelatinous flow of philosophy with words. And if I am unable to wrap words around a concept, it remains an uncongealed abstraction and I remain unconvinced; which is why I am repeatedly making this decision on a daily basis. I must find the words.
Reexamining the quote and the parable above, I acknowledge the cruelty of meat, and I recognize the irrationality of the argument that one individual will not make a difference. So, is the statement I am making largely within the context of cruelty and fatuity? And because one could argue that this same (means-to-an-end) cruelty and this same (if-I-only-had-a-brain) speciousness apply to many, many different inanities inflicted upon current and future generations, is it this larger scope of narcissistic, unthinking, self-destructive obedience that I am lashing out at in an attempt to bring attention to the reality that the village is slowly dying from hunger? Perhaps it is. And perhaps it is also the proliferation and spread of multiple groups of humanitarian bandits (in which each bandit is taking "only" one bean on Tuesday, and eight grains of rice on Thursday, and four kernels of corn on Saturday, and two leaves of lettuce on Sunday), that helps to explain why I am making the daily decision to refuse long-suffering-sentient meat. Perhaps it actually is a larger statement applicable beyond a philosophy of food.
As an individual, I find it is not difficult to turn my head and ignore the suffering of the caged hog; or the homeless man; or the oppressed and hungry villagers. As an individual, I find it is not difficult to justify inaction based on the futility of my individual action; or based on the certainty that I have earned my place; or based on the belief that I am simply more deserving and "they" therefore are simply less deserving. As an individual, I find it is not difficult to think only of myself.
I can rail against consumerism and bureaucracy and tyranny and all form of injustice; and I do. And I can espouse compassion and skepticism and affinity and all form of justice; and I do. But I find that I am limited as to animated (vs. verbal) statements. By choosing, each day, to reduce the overall daily consumption of human cruelty and stupidity, I am acting my philosophy. And perhaps, in this process, I am also mitigating my own personal daily, unthinking, very human contributions to those very insipidities, (in all manner of reach), I so vehemently denounce; contributions such as my weekly dip into consumerism via a lunch and a shopping excursion; or my political participation in social and/or workplace hierarchies; or my daily buy-in-slash-sell-out to the established Western order of all things so ordered. Yet, total voluntary exclusion will leave me on the outside looking in; whereas my food choices allow me to remain on the inside looking out, affording greater potential for maintaining awareness and trading influence, but nonetheless, also, providing convenient justification for my own personal, daily, unthinking, very human contributions to those very insipidities I so vehemently denounce.
Perhaps, with continued effort, I may one day find a fleeting moment of equilibrium.
Perhaps with continued action driven by thoughtful effort, I may one day find a fleeting moment of equilibrium.
Perhaps with continued awareness demanding reasoned action driven by thoughtful effort, I may one day find a fleeting moment of equilibrium.
Perhaps with continued influence encouraged by insightful awareness demanding reasoned action driven by thoughtful effort, I may one day find a shared moment of equilibrium.
Perhaps if I continue my pescatarian ways, I may one day find the essence of my momentary self.