Reading Jonathan Safran Foer's "Eating Animals"

on animals

Overview
One might label Jonathan Safran Foer's Eating Animals a book of psychology. The book explores the psychology (social and individual) of how and why humans eat what we do (and don't). Foer is interested in the stories we tell ourselves about the meaning of food and animals. Foer also examines the psychology of how we hide, deny, ignore, forget, or explain away what we are actually eating. And that takes us to the heart of the book: Foer examines and exposes the factory farm system and its consequences. His exploration of factory farming is visually descriptive, statistically informative, and rather idiosyncratic. It is also quite powerful.

Quibbling
Foer frequently addresses animals' intelligence and capacity to suffer. This is itself a powerful justification for vegetarianism, and was in fact the driving force of my own. Given our knowledge of animals' intelligence, emotions, social lives, and capacity to suffer, and given that it is unnecessary to eat them, I reached the conclusion that it is wrong to kill and eat them for the pleasure of their taste.

But while Foer has become a vegetarian, his stance seems based much more on repulsion of the factory farm system than on the morality of killing animals itself. This may be why his statement of commitment is vague if not incomprehensible: "Being a vegetarian is a flexible framework, and I've left mental state of constant personal decision making about eating animals (who could stay in such a place indefinitely?) for a steady commitment not to" (197). I teach freshman English, and this is still one of the most awful sentences I've had to re-read. It may also be why he can write that "For me to conclude firmly that I will not eat animals does not mean I oppose, or even have mixed feelings about, eating animals in general" (198). While Foer raises questions about the ethics of consuming animals at all (and allows other voices in: Bruce Friedrich, the narrator of "She Knows Better" [210-215], provides sharp, crisp, and clear arguments) and seems strongly to advocate a vegetarian diet, his book becomes primarily a scathing, damning critique of the factory farm system. This is good, but I don't think Foer takes animals' ability to think and feel to its full consequences.

Personally
I was most interested in Foer's discussions of "storytelling," of the way we eat and the ethical consequences of our eating. Like Foer, I am a new father, and many of his concerns about eating, ethics, and family are my concerns. The book does help reinforce and recommit me to a mostly vegan lifestyle, but also leads me to anxious despair of the future and may have enhanced my already burgeoning germaphobia.

The Importance
Many of the ideas Foer explores (or gives voice to) are not new, and he is not the first to expose the realities and consequences of industrial agriculture. But Foer's book is well-written and, I think, important. Jonathan Safran Foer is a well-known novelist, meaning some people may read his book about eating animals that otherwise wouldn't, that his book about eating animals will be reviewed in sources that otherwise wouldn't review such a book, and that he'll get to have interviews about eating animals at sources that otherwise wouldn't have interviews on the subject. We need writers with the insights and writing ability of Jonathan Safran Foer to explore and popularize this issue.

It is a very good book that I would like to recommend for anybody.

Realism, King, and Gandhi: Obama's Nobel Speech

on peace

Barack Obama's Nobel Lecture was, in many ways, outstanding. His reflection, thoughtfulness, and realism about war and peace in our world remind me why he inspires. But policies of warfare ordered by the contemplative Obama are no less dangerous than when they are ordered by George W. Bush. The serious reflections of Barack Obama do not negate the horrors perpetrated when he orders bombings that result in killing innocent civilians. And while Obama tacitly pays respect to the non-violence of Martin Luther King and Mahatma Gandhi, in the end I think he dismisses their non-violent message in the same way war proponents typically dismiss advocates (and practitioners) of non-violence: by treating their view as unrealistic.

Obama says

"I know there's nothing weak – nothing passive – nothing naïve – in the creed and lives of Gandhi and King."

And yet immediate after he dismisses them:

"But as a head of state sworn to protect and defend my nation, I cannot be guided by their examples alone. I face the world as it is, and cannot stand idle in the face of threats to the American people. For make no mistake: Evil does exist in the world. A non-violent movement could not have halted Hitler's armies. Negotiations cannot convince al Qaeda's leaders to lay down their arms."

Does Obama imply that King and Gandhi did not "face the world as it is"? Does he imply that they were not aware that "Evil does exist in the world"? I think, rather, King and Gandhi were acutely aware of the world as it is. Both men recognized the evil that exists in humankind--in fact, they faced it directly in their lives.

Later in the speech Obama seems to offer a back-handed compliment to King and Gandhi:

"The non-violence practiced by men like Gandhi and King may not have been practical or possible in every circumstance, but the love that they preached – their fundamental faith in human progress – that must always be the North Star that guides us on our journey."

This tactic feels familiar: it is the "realist" war-proponent dismissing the advocates and practitioners of non-violence as idealistic. We should admire the "love" and "faith" that King and Gandhi preached, but we have to remember that their views were not "practical." King used non-violence to strive for justice and equality against virulent hatred and institutional violence. Gandhi used non-violence to change his nation and face down an Empire. But Obama would have us view them as the idealists, whose view of the world we should strive after even as we recognize that their methods are impracticable in the face of real-life evil.

Underlying Axioms

on peace and on animals (reposted and revised from June 2, 2009)

There is an axiom that underlies most human uses of animals: humans may use and kill animals for our own pleasure.* This axiom justifies most uses of animals that society sees as reasonable and moral, but it is this same axiom that also underlies human uses of animals that society deems as abusive and immoral. There are degrees, of course. Some treatments of animals are deemed acceptable and some treatments of animals are deemed unacceptable, but these treatments are usually based on the same underlying axiom: humans may use and kill animals for our own pleasure. What society deems as cruelty to animals, then, isn't a matter of crossing a line, but of following the existing line too far. When a society accept and acts on the axiom, there will be extremes and abuses.

Several times while the Michael Vick dogfighting scandal was prominent in the news, a public figure would compare dog fighting to deer hunting, suggesting the two activities aren't that different. This comparison usually elicited mainstream outrage, as hunters (and others) talked about how different the two activities are. But the same axiom underlies both activities: humans may use and kill animals for our own pleasure. Deer hunters can point out the differences between the acts (often focusing on the differing levels of suffering, pain, cruelty, and motive), but I'm stuck on the axiom. Once you accept the axiom that humans may use and kill animals for our own pleasure, if you separate deer hunting from dog fighting, you are arguing about degrees. And once you start acting on that axiom, you are also going to have excesses of degree following the same axiom.

The same problem is true for many types of violence. Once you accept the axiom that war is sometimes justified and necessary, what it takes for those in power to wage the war they want is to convince people that the particular war is justified and necessary. John Howard Yoder has pointed out that when other theologians speak generally negatively about warfare, there is a palpable sense of relief from the audience when the theologian acknowledges that sometimes, in very rare situations, because of exceptional circumstances, war is sometimes justified and necessary. Once you accept that premise, even if you try limit that justification/necessity with extremely specific rules, with a very narrow, specific, and limited application of Just War Theory, you're going to have people justifying war, and feeling they can do so within your own standards.

It's the underlying axioms themselves which must be exposed, examined, and critiqued.

*another axiom might be humans may use and kill animals for our own need. That is a different axiom that requires a different discussion/argument. It should be noted that it is the "pleasure" axiom at work for almost all uses of animals in the developed world (though some substitute the "need" axiom when actually arguing the "pleasure" axiom"), but I think it is worth recognizing two different axioms exist.

Evil and Violence

on peace

"...social evil cannot be resolved by violence. Whatever our theory of evil we know that in practice it lies in the heart of man. It is not something external to him which can be struck and smashed or carted away, or which can be destroyed by an atom bomb. The waging of war only aggravates and spreads the trouble, and the Christian must turn from this to the far more difficult and unpopular task of attacking evil at its root. The only way to end war is to cease to fight, for the devil cannot be driven out by Beelzebub."

-- from "Peace is the Will of God," by Historic Peace Churches and International Fellowship of Reconciliation Committee, Geneva, Switzerland, October 1953.

In Les Miserables, Victor Hugo, I believe, identifies the dual strains of Christianity. There is Javert, who believes in the essentialism of criminality. Once a person reveals himself/herself to be a criminal, then he/she is always a criminal, and so the focus is on sin, judgment, and punishment. And then there is Valjean, who shows a story of change, redemption, and human dignity. Javert's worldview is Manichean: there are the pure good and the pure evil, and it is the duty of the pure good to find and punish the pure evil. Valjean's story reflects more orthodox Christian belief: all humans beings are imbued with inherent dignity, are capable of spiritual redemption, and are worthy of forgiveness.

So when in "Obama's Christian Realism," David Brooks muses on the nature of evil in all humanity, I reach different conclusions than he does. I don't reach the conclusion that evil is out there in the world, making war "necessary." I reflect instead on the potential goodness of an enemy, and that war with the evil in a nation inevitably becomes a war against the goodness in that nation, too (civilian casualties, for example). I reflect on our own side's capacity for evil (something Brooks acknowledges without reaching the same conclusions), which makes me question our side's motives for war, our side's ability to wage it "justly," and our side's abilities to achieve the supposedly noble ends that undergird support for the war.

In the same column, Brooks simplifies, distorts, and straw-mans the views of liberal war opponents:

"But after Vietnam, most liberals moved on. It became unfashionable to talk about evil. Some liberals came to believe in the inherent goodness of man and the limitless possibilities of negotiation."

Far from trumpeting the "inherent goodness of man," many anti-war liberals cite our own side's capacity for evil, and reflect on the ethical and practical problem of using evil means to achieve what might otherwise be a noble end. And I know very few liberals who believe the possibilities of negotiation are "limitless;" rather, war opponents often believe the constructive possibilities and potential effectiveness of negotiation to be far preferable to the costly, destructive, deadly possibilities of war. This is a typical gloss/smear: the war proponent labels the war opponent as the naive idealist. I cite again John Howard Yoder, who in Nevertheless criticizes the "irrational leap of faith" required for the rhetoric that "by supporting a puppet government, we are enabling democracy to grow." Yoder goes on:

"There is no more utopian institution than an idealistic war. [...] War is utopian both in the promises it makes for the future and in the black-and-white way of thinking about the enemy, which it assumes."

Inherent to the argument of evil as a justification for American wars is this: America is good and the evil is out there, so America is justified in fighting the wars America chooses to fight. Evil exists, but America can never be evil, and so America may wage wars against that which America deems evil.

The very fact that "evil" exists is not itself justification for invading a country, for occupying a country, or for bombing a country. Given the death, destruction, and waste of war, including horrors inflicted on the innocent, I would say that war itself is evil.

The Onion and War

"U.S. Continues Quagmire-Building Effort in Afghanistan"

Reading and Ethics

on peace and on animals (adapted and expanded from material posted May 20, 2008, and February 8, 2009)

The power of literature is largely in imagination. Reading allows me to escape myself, to experience the world for someone, somewhere, somewhen else. The stories we read are largely imagined by the authors, and re-imagined by the readers. Reading takes us away from our own narrow experiences and into another experience.

But when I read, I do not set myself aside. When I read depictions of violence, I become hyper-aware: what is happening, why it is happening, how it is being represented, etc. I am still a pacifist while I read a book like Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian, and so the violence of his book reaches me in a particular way. My encounter with the book (what I bring to the book and what I take from the book) is greatly affected by my pre-existing pacifism.

In The Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri describes the food characters prepare and eat quite frequently and in specific detail. No matter what I do, I cannot read such descriptions of food without thinking as a vegetarian. In my daily life, I must be consciously aware of all the food I ever eat, and this heightened awareness of food is hard to set aside when I turn to a book. When fictional, non-existent characters in a book eat meat, or kill animals, I become self-conscious, and I bring something different to the reading than a meat-eater does.

Embracing ethics of pacifism and vegetarianism are transformative. For me, they change not only the way I behave but the way I think. And these ethics also tranform my encounters with art. An anti-war poem must speak to me in a slightly different way than it speaks to a non-pacifist, and perhaps a painting of an animal speaks something different to me than to a meat-eater. This is not to say I approach art in an overly moralistic way, or that every encounter with art demands ethical reflection from me. I am merely saying that I am still me when I read, and that the ideas that change the way I live and think also change the way I read (if just slightly).

The Onion and War

"New 'War'" Enables Mankind to Resolve Disagreements:"

"War has also been employed on occasion to resolve disagreements over peace and to ensure that the world remained a harmonious place untroubled by fear, hatred, or the threat of violence.

[...]

"'We've come a long way from hashing out our differences around a fire,' Levin said. 'With the long-range nuclear missile technology we possess today, I wouldn't be surprised if, in a few short years, war solves the problems of mankind once and for all.'"