Parental honesty? What a novel idea.

John & Kate plus Eight is a particularly effective form of psychological birth control. Jen and I watch it because it's entertaining to witness all those processes of domestication whereby children are gradually formed into little adults en masse.

In one episode we see the family attend a farm or fair (this detail escapes me), where various domesticated animals - bulls, cows, pigs - are put on display for the masses to interact with. I had a eureka moment as the children were introduced to several bulls and hogs.

The children were predictably excited, of course, as were the adults. As I watched this display I thought to myself, what if John and Kate were to adopt a policy of honesty with their eight children? By this I mean what if John interrupted his son's enthusiastic interaction with a large turkey with a brief conversation about the gruesome fate which awaits that turkey and other individuals just like him? As the children moved down the line of confined bulls, perhaps Kate interjects with a brief statement: "The bull you are petting and innocently gushing over today will soon be slaughtered so you can stick your fork into him tomorrow." John steps in, perhaps, interrupting his daughters while they mimick the hogs' snorting sounds of enthusiasm with a statement such as "The ham sandwich you had for lunch could never have been possible without the death of your new friend's mother and father."

(It was sickening to watch those children hugging their dinner. John and Kate's ignorance was even more sickening.)

Imagine that though, a world where we we're honest with our children. Maybe parents would openly question those children's books and movies that portray farmed animals as gleefully enjoying their existence, a live unimpeded by human interference. (Why wouldn't they enjoy their lives, "Babe" had all his friends to hang out with, including farmer Hoggett!)

Suicide Food, a brilliant website, exposes those ad campaigns which imply that nonhumans actually exist in those fictional and idealic settings, thrusted on our children as "truth," for what they are: irrational (and disturbing) depictions of animals that act as though they wish to be consumed..."Suicide Food" actively participates in or celebrates its own demise. Can you think of anything - anything - more absurd than what is being suggested in these books and advertisements? A little honesty could shed some light on this macabre silliness John and Kate. I know we don't think about it this way, but that doesn't make it any less ridiculous.   

This honesty need not be defined by the animal rights philosophy, it's merely an open conversation about the connection between those chickens John and Kate's children were playing with and the contents of a bucket from K.F.C. Simple, yet infinitely powerful. Imagine the situation when groups of children ask their school principles why millions of baby cows had to be orphaned so they could drink milk - all they're doing is exercising their reason, but perhaps we don't want that.

Indeed, I believe that a paradigm shift away from viewing nonhumans as things, like hedge clippers for example, is a generation away. Achieving this shift, however, requires convincing parents that this honesty is important - a difficult end to say the least. Therefore we must articulate our goals carefully, participate in outreach campaigns accordingly, discuss this topic with one parent at a time, etc. But think about it, as one child connects the necessary murder of the feeling hogs and bulls to their pepperoni pizza, it's likely that yet another person considers vegetarianism. (Why is this likely I wonder? You can ask yourself that, but you know it's true.) 

But as a hypothetical I think there is something to this argument: Remove each brick from the wall that we have unconsciously built as a means to conceal certain realities, be transparent and allow truth to speak to these processes. The property status of animals is not fixed, or even "real" outside of legal apparatuses and ideology. This situation has been constructed therefore it can be de-constructed. Indeed, it's preserved in large part out of ignorance not knowledge. I cannot count how many times I've heard stories such as the following:

Michelle writes, "It's funny... when I was little I had no idea meat came from real live animals. I though it was just named after them. When I found out the truth, I was horrified. I had no idea I had been eating food that once had a face, had once been alive and full of feeling and emotion. By age eight I had become a vegetarian." - A Search for Compassion

The enormity of this myth - these unconscious lies we tell - is almost incomprehensible. But what I'm talking about here is a doable end because this prescription of being honest is hardly controversial. Yes, the topic is controversial, but the suggestion that we ought to not lie (unconsciously or otherwise) to our children, isn't.

The fact that those organizations who give children pamphlets describing the torture and slaughter of nonhumans are derided by the public writ large, is telling of the prowess of information. The reality is dirty, bloody, and frightening, but it is the reality, so don't hide people from the consequences of our prejudices.

Will be crossposted @ Vegan Soapbox