I read a post on Quora a few weeks ago that got me questioning, again, about how many of us humans came to such ambivalence about food. Why, for example, are so many of us happy carnivores when the food on the table is a big beef steak, but we turn away in horror and disgust if the meal consists of the cooked corpse of a cat or a dog? I know; some cultures do not behave the way Americans do. Cats and dogs are perfectly acceptable foods in those cultures. I think, though, some of those cultures have issues with eating cows and goats and sheep.
But, back to the U.S. Why is it all right to butcher and consume the flesh of a pig, yet we recoil in horror at the idea of killing and eating a horse? And we seem to have no heartburn about eating chicken, but the idea of eating guinea pig is an affront to our sensitivities, notwithstanding our knowledge that many Peruvians, Ecuadorians, and Colombians do it regularly.
In the past, I’ve read all sorts of explanations for our neurotic dietary practices, but this morning I conclude that it’s purely a matter of our minds playing tricks on us, after having been taught to do exactly that.
We deftly overlook the fact that all of these objects of our dining desires were once living, breathing creatures. If we divorce ourselves from our cultural and species-specific narcissism for a moment, our carnivorous propensities seem more than a little like murder, just barely removed from cannibalism.
I have never been involved in the earliest stages of the process whereby our carnivorous culinary desires are fulfilled. Had I been involved in raising, and then slaughtering, cows and pigs and chickens and goats, I might be steeled to the shock of the process. I suspect, in a different culture, I might be equally capable of dealing with the killing and field dressing of guinea pigs. Deer hunters are able to overlook the fact that they have just assassinated a doe or buck, so I don’t know why I should find it hard to understand that hunting and killing horses and cats and dogs, then skinning and butchering them, should be any different. But we know there is a difference, don’t we? We know we learn, from an early age, that killing and eating some animals is acceptable, while killing and eating others are despicable acts, acts tantamount to animal cruelty or, worse, murder.
If I were to allow myself sufficient time to muse on and really contemplate all the steps involved in having my omnivorous desires met, I suspect my consumption of meat would decline precipitously. Imagine, if you will, a pre-meal contemplation of the final breaths of the animal on my plate and the fear that might have accompanied those last moments of life. The carnivorous component of my omnivorousness might diminish dramatically.
But, then, I recall a few years ago reading about (and having the breath knocked out of me in the process) scientific explorations that suggested plants respond to certain stimuli (e.g., having leaves cut or roots ripped from the ground) in the same way that animals experience pain. I suspect that the more emotional distance we perceive between the food on our plate and ourselves, the more we permit ourselves to forget or ignore the consequences of our hunger, not to ourselves, but to the object of our consumption.
I feel certain some people might read what I have written and say it is just so much nonsense, the words of someone who felt compelled to write about something, yet had nothing important to write about. I wish those people would force themselves to think more deeply about the subject; not to change their eating habits, only to open their eyes.
Some cultures offer homages or prayers before meals to the animals and plants that died so that humans could eat. Those expressions of sentiment do nothing for the creatures who died , but they might give humans a degree of humility in acknowledging that other creatures sacrificed on their behalf. Knowing the sacrifices that are made to bring food to the table, perhaps a parallel commitment to minimize the pain and suffering involved in the process might be in order. And, I suppose, acknowledgement of all the other people who contributed to the meal might help us appreciate just what was involved in getting food to our plates: the farmers, the people who harvested the crops, the animals, the truck drivers, the butchers, the grocers; the list goes on and on.
For everything we eat, something dies. Someone works to produce the food, to get it to us, to prepare it, to deliver it to the plate. If nothing else, I believe we ought to really think about that with every meal. Perhaps, if we were more conscious of what we eat and what was involved in getting food in our mouths, obesity might be less of an epidemic.
