Vegonomics

A number of people, from family to friends to total strangers, have asked me, essentially, "Why are you vegetarian?" Then, as they see me struggling for words, they usually provide multiple-choice answers: "Health? Spiritual reasons? Animal welfare? The environment?" (Okay, very few people actually know about the environmental benefits of vegetarianism, but some have indeed included it.)

I'm always thankful for the multiple-choice format, because my answer is always the same: "Yes!"

They are all good reasons, of course, and it's fun giving cryptic answers. But I never hear the follow-up question that I hope to hear, so I'll ask myself right now:

"Do you really think it matters?"

Let's face it, we live in the United States in the early 2000's, where eating meat is still a deeply ingrained part of our culture. It is a right, and also an expectation, to some degree. The amount of meat consumed in America is not affected significantly by my efforts.

I recognize the power of the masses, and I know that the masses are made up of individuals capable of making their own choices. I can choose to be a very tiny part of a very large problem, or a very tiny part of the solution, I suppose.

Glazed with a Layer of Abstraction

I recently read an odd description of the Thai relationship to meat. (I found it in a Thai cookbook, so it has to be true.) Apparently, because many Thai people are Buddhists, and Thai Buddhists are taught not to kill animals, that they are used to having meat chopped up into small pieces, so that it doesn't look like animal parts.

I don't know about the Thai, but this is certainly true for most of us Americans, right? I recall a particular meal when I was a boy: I was given a whole chicken leg, both the thigh and the drumstick. I discovered that I could make the joint move, just as the chicken had done when it was alive. I was "grossed out" to say the least. Throughout most of my life, meat has been presented as unidentifiable pieces: Fillets, patties, chunks, tenders. That chicken-leg was an eye-opening experience for that chubby little city boy.

To add to the abstraction that is "meat," much of the meat we eat retains, conveniently, the names derived from French livestock: Beef, Pork, Veal. I recall learning that we call chicken "chicken" and turkey "turkey" because the French would not eat such fowl [sic] creatures. But, for the most part, we Americans eat an abstraction called "meat" which is far removed (at least, in our minds) from animal flesh.

Back to the Thai. Why would a Buddhist not be allowed to kill an animal, but still be allowed to eat it? Buddhists around the world, and within America, have numerous approaches to diet. The Buddha, himself, was not a vegetarian. He died from a bad bit of pork. You may have also read that the Dalai Lama is not (or is no longer?) a vegetarian. Vegetarianism is not prevalent amongst Tibetan Buddhists, and for good reason. How easy do you suppose it would be to grow crops up in the Himalayas?

The Thai Cookbook approach has a flaw. (For the record, I don't think the cookbook was written by a Buddhist Thai. All the more reason for it to hit closer to home.) If you eat meat that isn't recognizeable, are you a vegetarian?

"So, why bother?"

In order to avoid killing animals, I don't ask for meat in my food.

By not eating meat over the last few years, I have probably "saved" one cow (I was never a big beef eater), and dozens (perhaps hundreds) of chickens.

"Well," you say, "But someone else would just eat those chickens instead!"

The Law of Supply and Demand

I was sitting with a wonderful friend and highly respected colleague of mine at a restaurant close to his home. We ordered, and I asked for a pasta dish that came with chicken, and I asked to have it without chicken. Simple enough.

My friend ordered his dish, and then he added "I would like to have Rob's chicken."

Quite logical from a business expense perspective, whether or not it was his turn to buy! And, could he not have proclaimed "Besides, the critter is already dead!"?

No. We know from the simple law of supply and demand that they'll only manufacture McNuggets as long as we continue to order them.

I use my friends mild "faux pas" as example, only. I was not the least bit upset, nor did I comment. Besides, he enjoyed the extra chicken, and--for all I know--he may have felt a little short of dietary protein. Nor does it bother me to watch people eat meat, even a big juicy steak.

I do, however, think that our American society (i.e., its individual citizens) ought to examine the industry's treatment of food animals when making those dietary choices. Reality may be painful, but it's the only route to informed decision-making.

"Re-cy-cling?" -- Montgomery Burns, The Simpsons

A while back, I heard a story about a woman who sold a 40-year-old fur coat that she had inherited from her mother's estate. She was berated by animal-rights activists for selling fur.

What nonsense. She was selling from an existing supply, and satisfying someone else's demand without harming a living animal. It's not perfect, but it's a start.

Nobody's Perfect

I do know of vegetarians who prefer their food to be prepared so that it cannot come in contact with any meat products, such as the grease remaining on a fryer. Personally, I'm not one of them. What I try to do is reduce the demand for animal products. (For me, the ethical and "spiritual" benefits lie in avoiding harm to others. Sure, I'd rather that my garden burger is not swimming in grease, but that's the health thing.)

It's basic economics. Eventually my grocery store stops carrying things we (as a community) don’t buy. Eventually farmers will use their lands for something much more productive and healthy. Eventually. Give it another one or two hundred years.

I enjoy looking for simple ways to reduce the overall amount of suffering caused by my actions. I can't force anyone else to do the same (I would have to break the precept in order to enforce the precept, and we have too much of that going on in the world already), but I feel compelled to be this miniscule and insignificant lack-of-contribution-to-the-problem (for lack of another precise term).

A Yearly Ban on Tofurkey

What a wonderful holiday, Thanksgiving! It's a chance to give thanks for your great fortune to be living with a high degree of wealth and comfort (if you're able to read an English BLOG, you're probably in darn good financial shape), and to simply be alive! It's also the only nationally recognized four-day weekend, and the start of the Christmas shopping season!

If I’m invited to Thanksgiving dinner, I can let the hostess know that she doesn’t need to count me when calculating turkey size. And, when the plate goes around the table the second time, I may grab a slice of turkey for myself, anyway, if there’s enough for everyone. "What?!" The bird is already dead, and it has been offered to sustain my life.

I’m expecting this to seem hypocritical to some. Well, we must all make these choices for ourselves, of course. I suppose I would call myself (if I must use a label) a "mostly-vegetarian." I discourage the suffering of animals for my benefit, but will not always turn down fish or fowl when it is subsequently offered.

(Aside regarding labels: I've noticed that there is a way to let people know without labeling myself, and it truly seems to put people at ease with my choices. Rather than "I'm a vegetarian" I often say "I'm eating vegetarian these days." Labels (nouns) sound so permanent. It's as though we limit ourselves, and listeners instantly share that limited image of us.)

I have heard that the original disciples of the Buddha, when they went begging for food, were allowed to eat meat as long as it was not killed specifically for them (i.e., leftovers were okay). I've used a "rule of thumb" that is almost the opposite of that: If I forgot to tell the host at a dinner party that I'm a vegetarian, and the cook has prepared something for me, with meat, I'll eat it. I would rather skip being a vegetarian for a day than make my host feel incredibly uncomfortable.

Apparently my hero, Robert Aitken (my, how my heroes have changed over the decades), has a similar take on this. I don't recall the exact quote (or where I read it), but to paraphrase: The creature is already dead; the hostess is not.

Beef and pork are another story: For me, mammals are out. I find it far too unhealthy (animal fats), risky (mad cow), and repulsive to eat a creature that is so similar to us biologically.

Don't get me wrong: When I'm watching you eat your filet mignon, butterflied and cooked medium-rare; I'm more apt to drool than to turn my head in revulsion. And don't get me started on the joyous childhood memories of McDonald's cheeseburgers! But those joys have been replaced, and I really don't miss 'em. Much.

Apply Gentle Pressure

Christmas 2004: I was talking to Mom before Christmas and she said that we would be having some homemade stew before going to see A Christmas Carol. I let her know that I was vegetarian, and that I could not eat pork and beef. She let me know that I would be able to remove the meat from the stew. That was fine, and I told her so.

The night of the play, she had a wonderful, savory vegetable stew waiting for us! (No meat.)

Thanks, Mom. Essentially, I didn’t make it an issue, and she didn’t make it an issue, either. Mom’s great! :) I hope Dad didn't miss the meat too much. He has made so many sacrifices ove r the years, but his tend to be less obvious. Dad is great, too!

And, yes, I had some turkey with my Christmas meal. Just a little, and with much gratitude to the poor fat bird who gave its life for mine.