Recently in Thinking Category

(The following is an op-ed I submitted to the Salt Lake Tribune, which was not published for reasons unknown.)

Merriam-Webster defines Euthanasia as the act of killing the hopelessly sick or injured in a way that doesn't cause suffering for reasons of mercy. In common usage, this is exactly what euthanasia means: a painless means to relieve persistent suffering when other options are not available. The interests of the individual whose life is taken provide the reason for the action. Killing an incurably ill person, then, out of concern for her suffering is euthanasia. Putting a healthy individual to sleep because it would take resources to feed her, or as a means to free-up space, is simply "killing." To label this action as anything other than killing is a purposeful, self-interested, confusion of the language.

The new West Valley City (Utah) Animal Shelter, currently under construction, will have a gas chamber for euthanasia. Given the definition of the word, it is a patent misnomer to label killing over 2,400 companion animals annually primarily for reasons of "space" and "financial resources," euthanasia. However, I do not mean to imply any moral judgments. Given the context of limited resources and our society's inability to control our selfish desire to "create" a dog that better satisfies that which we get a passing pleasure from today, the decision of shelters and rescue organizations alike to kill some animals in their care is rational. (However, a "no-kill" revolution is beginning to challenge some of the assumptions that are used to justify all this killing.) My intent is merely to illuminate the erroneous use of the word euthanasia and force some recognition of what we are actually doing: killing. The interests being considered are our own. The animals' interests are but a passing thought along the way to the execution chamber.

In the case of animals, then, our understanding of the word "euthanasia" doesn't seem to fit the actual definition. However, "painlessness" does seem to be fundamental, which means that we are left with a decision: Since we are killing, for the most part, perfectly healthy animals simply because the habits of our species result in millions of unwanted "pets," should we take their lives painlessly, even if we are inconvenienced, or does their suffering just not matter at all?

The answer ought to be clear - a comfortable death is the least we can do for all these helpless animals. Would you expect anything less for your beloved dog? My family rescued a dog from "death row" several years ago. He was our companion, a unique individual, and a devoted friend. And without our intervention, he would have had to struggle against death by suffocation.

The use of the gas chamber should raise serious questions. Those who have witnessed the killing of animals by what is essentially suffocation generally describe a "desperate struggle," "mournful wailings," and what can only be understood as fear and desperation. We have an obligation to these animals. Forcing a fully conscious animal into a small chamber in which she will struggle for her last breath shouldn't be an option. There is a reason why the "gas chamber" provokes so much horror in us.

The American Veterinary Medical Association and the National Animal Control Association, among others, have all determined injection of sodium pentobarbital is the most humane, safest, least stressful and most professional means of killing these animals.

Some may argue that since we do, as a matter of fact, kill these animals for our own purposes, their suffering is really a non-issue in the end. I emphatically disagree. If we must kill, then we must do so with compassion.

On our way home the other night, Jen and I witnessed a small protest. Three individuals were loudly voicing their outrage, posters of tortured nonhuman animals in hand, in front of a house occupied by an employee of a company that is tangentially, according to one observer, connected to Huntington Life Sciences. Under the mantra, "Their Money, Their Fault," the protesters claimed that the individual in the home works for a bank that funds H.L.S.' animal experimentation program. Therefore, coupled with direct protests of H.L.S., as the argument goes, those who finance this "science" ought to be held accountable.     

The "Standards for Confining Farm Animals" initiative statute, or Proposition 2, California, passed 63% for to 37% against. Prop. 2,

"prohibits the confinement of certain farm animals in a manner that does not allow them to turn around freely, lie down, stand up, and fully extend their limbs."

Specifically, three confinement methods - veal crates, battery cages, and sow gestation crates - will come under review, and in the case of battery cages, will be eliminated. I view this result with both a sense of profound internal relief and trepidation.

On my relief. "Building momentum" towards abolishing certain practices, to borrow from Wayne Pacelle, seems a plausible result given California's media market and the prop.'s overwhelming support:

The historic victory for farm animals builds on momentum established in other US states. Colorado and Arizona are phasing out the use of gestation crates and veal crates, and the states of Florida and Oregon have similar measures phasing out gestation crates. Throughout North America, producers are changing the way they house and care for animals in response to this momentum. Smithfield Foods, the world's largest pig producer, and Maple Leaf, the largest pig producer in Canada, are phasing-out gestation crates. The American Veal Association voted to urge the entire US veal industry to phase out veal crates.

By adopting these measures, the United States is moving in the same direction as Europe. The entire European Union is phasing out barren battery cages by 2012 and gestation crates by 2013, and has already banned veal crates. Several European countries already have enacted protections for farm animals that exceed the European Union's measures.

And more importantly, I think, as a matter of fact, phasing-out veal crates, for example, does go a significant way towards reducing actual suffering. Those who would challenge this with, "It's still a violation of rights," are highly suspect, and I believe allow the abstract to consume the real. Many of us who believe in the philosophy of animal rights often accept our position as moral persons and argue accordingly. "We all have the right to..." becomes our mantra; however, it is from this position that allows us to forget about the 10 individual chickens who are forced to live in a single, barren, wire cage. While we discuss abolition, incremental moves to take those chickens out of the cage and put them on an open floor are derided. I believe this kind of reasoning is derived from our position as non-nonhuman animals. If considered impartially, it seems unreasonable to argue that I, if in the position of a veal cow, wouldn't want to be removed from the crate and allowed to turn around because this would imply the assumption that it is okay to kill me unnecessarily if I'm only treated properly. I think PETA's argument that "Animals are not ours to..." sufficiently addresses the ethical need to abolish the animals-as-property paradigm. Welfare legislation, then, framed as such, deals with the here and now of suffering and some of it should be lauded.   

On my trepidation (perhaps getting at the reasoning that confuses me). On the premise that every creature's interest's ought to be considered morally relevant because of their sentience, the only ethical end is abolition. Incrementalism, then, is instrumentally valuable for the reasons cited above. However, as the argument proffered by abolitionists go, incremental measures to reduce suffering in the present (or near present) may actual prevent this end from being realized.

One such reason, the most plausible I believe, is that when these singular examples - the one's we generally find the most horrendous - are illuminated, challenged and abolished, the ethical nature of the matter, primarily, nonhuman animals are not things and ought to be considered full members of the moral community, which practically results in veganism, begins to get confused. Our moral responsibility may seem to be absolved once the torture of baby cows in veal crates is gotten rid of and PETA proclaims a "victory." The end, then, is transformed from veganism to a "happy meat" revolution.

And so it goes, billions of nonhuman animals are still forced to suffer wholly unnecessarily, while the most prevalent reason to go vegan (e.g., the scene of male cows thrashing about as they are castrated without anesthesia) becomes very well hidden. It's a fiction, of course; the suffering persists; it's still systematic. However, the industry is now given a label, "Humane Certified," and the system, and the monster paradigm that justifies it, becomes even more calcified than before.   

I don't know how to resolve this conflict. Welfarism turns on an empirical matter: Do these measures actually reduce suffering? I believe the answer is yes, generally speaking. However, to qualify this "yes," I must say from reading accounts of "free range" methods, and my knowledge about what happens to the "excess" - baby boy chickens, for example -, these "improvements," as measured by real suffering, come in degrees not kind. And then there is the problem articulated above.    

As such, measuring Proposition 2 becomes a sort of qualified happiness. To the end of abolition, I'm concerned. Saving 20 million creatures from experiencing the most horrendous suffering, I'm forced by conscience to celebrate.

Will be crossposted @ Vegan Soapbox

Many people of faith regard themselves as progressive. Their faith in Christ, for example, is resolute. However, they are not doctrinaire in their belief system - scripture is open to interpretation, and organized religion takes on the "broken mirror" analogy: each faith represents but one piece of the whole, therefore, none of the individual pieces represent the "whole truth" but a single part. Issues, then, such as homosexual marriage, capital punishment, environmentalism, and abortion are viewed with a far less dogmatic eye by Liberal Christians (derisively labeled "al la cart Christians" by some, I say approaching rationality) than by their more strident counterparts. Another issue, evolution, is also accepted by most of the progressive faithful, thus rejecting the fiction, pseudo-science "creationism."

And here is my point: If you accept evolution then you must agree with the statement that "we" all evolved from a single source; from the primordial ooze we arose. However, as a person of faith, or a Christian more specifically given the context of Western society, you must also believe in an afterlife of some kind, or else your faith doesn't really follow from anything. Therefore, given biblical teaching, the issue of ensoulment must be broached - it is, after all, from this notion of the "soul" that the idea of eternal life is derived. This raises a fundamental question: If you accept both evolution and some conception of an afterlife, at what point does ensoulment take place?

It seems to me that there are only two possible answers to this question. One, god selected the stage of the evolutionary chain in which Homo sapiens erupted to introduce to the world "souls," which, in keeping with Judeo-Christian dogma, excludes all nonhuman animals from grace or eternal life. If only considered for a moment, however, the issue of arbitrariness enters the equation. In effect, so the reasoning goes, god saw three beings standing in front of him: a worm, a cow, and a human animal. Leaving aside the fact that each of these three beings originated from a single source through complicated processes of evolution where some genes mixed and others branched out in different directions, and that what separates one from the other is merely an alteration in the genetic code, god decided to select but one being from but one evolutionary stage to grant eternity too. Considering Darwin's theory holistically, selecting as god selected is almost ludicrously absurd given that he/she could have just as easily closed his/her eyes and pointed to some canid species, for example. Natural selection is essentially random mutation. There is no design, therefore, Z mutation getting a "soul," while A-Y do not, is uncomfortably arbitrary. Framing this arbitrariness as "divine plan" does not change its nature.

The second answer is more interesting. One might reason that creation as we know it will, in some perfected state, make-up heaven as we know it. Earth cleansed; god's grand design abstracted existentially. Avoiding the arbitrariness problem raised in the initial answer, the validity of the theory of evolution means that at our genesis, inchoate life was ensouled, and generation after evolutionary generation new life came into being, each sharing two traits: A) origins, and B) a soul. As a theological (and philosophical) issue, investigating further this brief sketch would be an interesting pursuit in and of itself. However, another, perhaps more, interesting question arises. If all beings along the evolutionary chain have been granted eternal life, then killing some of that life - with all the suffering therein - as a means to satisfy a taste bud (and only a taste bud) ought to be a cause for concern. Consider the outcome: What words will assuage the perfectly reasonable sentiment of hostility of the female cow whom had to experience rape, pregnancy, the removal of her baby, and milking-by-machine, over and over and over again, so that we can enjoy dairy ice cream as opposed to the non-dairy varieties? If confronted in the afterlife with a family of pigs who had to suffer the unimaginable in this life because "I just love bacon," will an apology sway? What of the chickens, or any of the other billions upon billions of animals that we kill for their flesh, sport, or convenience? The heavenly horizon darkens. Perhaps all nonhuman life go to a different heaven? One can only hope.

"But," goes the inevitable rebuttal, "god gave them to us to use as our means." Indeed, but remember:

Genesis 1 29:30:

"Then God said, "Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is on the surface of all the earth, and every tree which has fruit yielding seed; it shall be food for you; and for every beast of the earth and every bird of the sky and to everything that moves on earth which has life, I have given every green plant for food"; and it was so."

We were "created" as vegans; in our perfected state non-interference with sentient life was a maxim. It was Original Sin that ended this harmony.

Romans 5:12:

"Therefore, just as through one man sin entered the world, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men, because all sinned."

Man sinned and god rescinded its decree that human animals (and nonhuman animals many believe) ought to be vegans. Where then do the progressive faithful find a defense of killing animals to please their palates?

Will be crossposted @ Vegan Soapbox 

Animals are sentient; by this I mean they do subjectively experience pain, for example. However, animals do not suffer because they lack imagination: animals do not anticipate nor do they remember, therefore, if an animal is being harmed he does not have the necessary imaginative capacity to compare his current experience with an experience free from suffering. Without this comparison, the argument concludes, the animal doesn't recognize suffering as suffering and therefore, by definition, he doesn't suffer.

Peter Singer similarly reasons. Singer doesn't deny an animals capacity to suffer - quite the contrary -, however, he concludes that humans possess an imagination, which give rise to thoughts about future aspirations and hopes. Singer believes that these hopes, for example, ought to be considered interests; interests that only (some) humans have.

The first version of this argument doesn't follow logically. Sentience, the capacity to feel and perceive, is an evolutionary 'means-end' mechanism. Sentient beings physiologically and psychologically evolved to recognize experiences that are harmful to the ultimate biological end of all organisms, continued life. To experience what we conceptualize as pain, for example, when touching a hot surface, is an evolutionary call to remove my hand from the thing that is not advantageous to the end of continued life. Suffering, therefore, has less to do with a conscious reflection of the situation (although that is certainly involved in degrees) than with mere instinct.

Consider a human animal who awakes from a coma, in isolation, brain-damaged, absent of all memory, in agonizing pain due to a cut on his arm that has gone untreated and left to become infected. This individual is incapable of remembering a time free from pain and therefore the experience necessary to trigger the imaginative function is not available, nor is he in the presence of others who can assure him that his pain will soon end. Is this person suffering? The answer should be self-evident: Yes. Regardless of his intellectual capacity to make comparisons, for example, there is a biological component intrinsic to sentience - his body tells him "I'm damaged and I need help." That is suffering. To admit sentience, then, while at the same time denying the capacity to suffer is terrible logic. One could alleviate this problem by denying the sentience of animals, however, the question begging nature of this premise overwhelms the argument itself.

To Singers point. Singer's argument follows; however, I think he fails to consider the implications. If his assumption is correct and animals do not anticipate (which should be questionable for any person who has ever witnessed a dog's enthusiasm over the impending arrival of his human), then what is actually a momentary experience of pain for the animal, in effect, turns out to be an entire existence defined by pain. While biology tells the dog that his paw has been damaged by the slammed door, he is incapable of remembering a time without the pain nor is he able to anticipate a future free from his throbbing paw. His entire existence, therefore, is suffering. This raises the question: Shouldn't the dog, then, have an additional interest that ought to be considered in the ethical calculus that (most) humans, excluding, of course, our coma patient above, do not have? Singer doesn't seem to acknowledge this interest, although it seemingly follows from the evolutionary function of sentience.

Will be crossposted @ Vegan Soapbox

I've been considering a question that has honestly baffled me for some time. The question pertains to the issue of "line drawing": Why, some have asked, is defining 'sentience' as the insuperable line between those who count - morally - and those who do not count any less arbitrary than relying on 'species membership' or 'intelligence,' for example?

The common response surrounds the issue of "interests": Sentience is intrinsically related to interests, interests concern individual experiential welfare (i.e., I literally fare better or worse depending on what happens to me), which implies a conscious recognition of what happens - I feel. Therefore, interests ought to be considered morally relevant, regardless of the being whose interests are in question. While I agree with the ethical substance of this response, I fail to see how it responds to the challenge. Identifying 'species' as the necessary characteristic implies that group membership is morally relevant, while arguing that the capacity to have 'interests' is the characteristic that ought to be considered implies that sentience is morally relevant. This begs the question: Why is the former arbitrary while the latter rests on some objective moral grounds? The 'interests' argument has intuitive appeal given the nearly universal recognition that pain is bad ergo our interest in not being in pain is a good to be protected. However, it seems that our response merely proffers a different theory without actually addressing the criticism.

As I think of this problem, then, I have concluded that it is indeed "arbitrary" to draw the line at sentience - as arbitrary, perhaps, as IQ or gender. Why? Because I cannot think of any other grounds to which we can appeal when defining the line as such other than emotion or more accurately, considered intuition. Emotion, by definition, is irrational: It doesn't lend itself to logical proof.

This conclusion, however, doesn't imply that the challenge to speciesism isn't valid, nor does it mean that ethical veganism is found wanting. This is so for two reasons:

A)   Speciesism follows the same logic as the most blatant sexism: identifying membership in biological group X as morally relevant, and relying on this difference to argue for a moral justification for discounting the interests of women - regardless of other similarities. Again, however, perhaps these similarities are as arbitrarily defined as gender but it has been decided, collectively, at least in theory, that we accept the premise that being a man does not justify an inequitable power relationship between you and all women. The inequality, then, is based on invalid (morally) differences: Women are equal to men regardless of the group distinction. We hold this premise strongly. An argument, therefore, that challenges it doesn't demand our rational assent. Replace 'species' with 'gender' and the logic just laid out follows; but we've rejected this kind of reasoning. 

B)   On this same line of reasoning, appealing to sentience is a response to another premise considered paramount throughout ethical theory: the impersonal badness of suffering. Suffering, as defined by the bearing of instant or prolonged pain or distress - more accurately, I think, anything other than pleasant comfort and security - is, according to our ethical traditions, intrinsically evil. Pain, for example, is prima facie worthy of being avoided or diminished as an end in itself and for the sake of the being whose experiential welfare is concerned. Ethical veganism argues that this premise is basic: it serves as an absolute minimum; a starting point for further moral deliberations.

(To clarify, "suffering," for me, is a technical term: an action that involves pain, prolonged or otherwise; an action that damages an interest.)  

For evidence of B consider the following:

The United States Constitution and its dedication to the pursuit of happiness. Happiness is assumed to be what we exist to achieve, which necessarily implies that its counter, suffering, is to be avoided because it impedes the realization of this end. The Golden Rule prescribes, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." This prescription asks us to imagine ourselves in the position of those suffering, for example, which reasonably engenders a perceived duty to relieve suffering: the impersonal badness of suffering is derived from impartial observation.

Utilitarianism is premised on the recognition of the badness of suffering. In rights discourse, there is an assumed harm (i.e., suffering) experienced when moral agents (and moral patients) have certain interests violated: rights provide this wall of protection. Most fundamentally, the right not to be the property of another because of the inseparable harm associated with being a "thing" (e.g., slavery). (Rights also have their "positive" prescriptions, but that's another matter.) 

Karl Popper, an ethical hedonist, wrote, "I believe that there is, from the ethical point of view, no symmetry between suffering and happiness, or between pain and pleasure. (...) human suffering makes a direct moral appeal for help..." The doctrine of humanitarianism  is equally concerned with relieving suffering: "...humanitarian efforts seek a positive addition to the happiness of sentient beings, it is to make the unhappy happy..."

Buddhism considers liberation from suffering as basic for leading a holy life and attaining nirvana. Abstinence from causing pain or harm to other beings is a central tenet of Hinduism.

From a different line of reasoning, this premise is implied. Aristotle wrote, "Suffering becomes beautiful when anyone bears great calamities with cheerfulness, not through insensibility but through greatness of mind." Echoing Aristotle's argument that suffering has intrinsic benefits, some argue that experiences of suffering strengthen character. Christianity certainly suggests this. The existence of suffering, for the Christian, does not negate the existence of God because, as fallible beings, we lack the necessary omniscience to make the claim that suffering is experienced without cause; Christianity proffers such a good cause. The philosophy of Gandhi also assumed a certain existentialist benefit to the experience of suffering: On this logic, suffering - an experience that would otherwise be avoided - purifies the sufferer. The underlying assumption to these arguments is that a greater good is to be achieved by current suffering. In each of these theories, however, while they seemingly endorse suffering, presuppose the intrinsic badness of suffering. If suffering-as-bad wasn't assumed, this explicit appeal to a consequentalist benefit would be incoherent: Why would an experience that I desire to have A) need to be justified by an appeal to another greater end and B), within the context of eternal salvation or existentialist benefit, it stands to reason that whatever the experience is, it must harm you in some way - you don't want it to occur - so a future good is assumed to justify the bad experience.

Further, Aristotle, and Kant for that matter, cannot reasonably separate the experience of suffering from the realization of their versions of "the good life." It seems reasonable to argue that a life of indefinite suffering necessarily impedes one's efforts to participate in self-government or act according to the categorical imperative. The reason is manifest: Prolonged pain, for example, is anathema to being of the state of mind where one can universalize moral rules, for example. Pain is your life, not morality.  

My conclusion then is that arbitrary or not, there are certain premises we hold very strongly. The existence of a strongly held premise doesn't define its ethical nature; however, it does suggest a certain kind of importance. Of course, we are speciesists: it's a premise we strongly hold. However, this has more to do, as does our failure to view all suffering as morally important, with a flaw in our reasoning than with a deliberate and honest application of our ethical beliefs. We don't take the "moral point of view" when considering most of our actions. Perhaps we will one day no longer accept the evil of suffering, however, that would include a rejection of much of our ethical history. We are not there yet.     

Will be crossposted @ Vegan Soapbox

Here's yet another example to counter the, "But animals are exploited to cure cancer," crowd. (Heed my warnings though when attacking these assumptions on this front.)

From PETA:

"In only a few days, children around the world will be ringing doorbells and looking for Halloween treats. As scary as some of their costumes might be, the true horror this holiday will actually be the M&Ms, Snickers, or Skittles candies that lie in your child's candy bag. All these candies, along with many other candies sold under household names, are manufactured by Mars Inc., a company responsible for the deaths of numerous animals in unnecessary animal tests.

The experiments funded by Mars, including the following examples, are truly the stuff of Halloween nightmares:

• Rats have been force-fed chocolate chemicals and had needles jabbed directly into their still beating hearts.

• Rabbits have been cut apart to determine the effects of cocoa on muscle tissue.

• Guinea pigs have had cocoa ingredients injected into arteries in their necks to measure the impact on their blood pressure.

And these are only a few of the tests that Mars has funded. Perhaps most disturbingly of all, not one of Mars' experiments on animals is required by law.

"But," the defenders of wanton animal exploitation argue,

"it's better that these animals suffer and die than cute little human babies who just want to enjoy a tasty piece of candy. So, I'm sorry, but humans are at the top of the hierarchy - they have to be."

Subtext: A) The interests, no matter how fundamental they may be (e.g., not being in pain), of animals don't count when weighed against human interests, no matter how trivial they may be (e.g., I want another flavor of jolly rancher). And B), it's clearly the only way to do it. My evidence: Because these industries continue to do so and they wouldn't unnecessarily torture animals. Right? Wrong: 

"Thanks to PETA's hard work and pressure, many of the world's major food corporations--including Mars' chief rival, Hershey's, and Coca-Cola and Pepsi-Co--have pledged not to fund or conduct experiments on animals."

Competing interests ladies and gentlemen: As our prejudice determines the outcome, "taste" trumps not "being in pain". Defend that. I await a response. 

Will be crossposted @ Vegan Soapbox

We must constantly challenge the paradigm - the assumptions and opinions we all generally share - that purports to justify the exploitation of animals. Single instances of cruelty have intuitive appeal, as the following conversation can display. However, as a philosopher's complaint, what we may be doing when we singularly focus is implicitly argue that all the other examples are ethically justified.

An example:

"I want some cough drops," I stated rather emphatically, "that a thousand animals didn't have to be tortured to produce."

He said, "Animals are tested to cure cancer too," grimacing as though to say, "I got you!"

I responded to this effect: "For every single instance of "legitimate" experimentation you can give me, I can cite you ten examples that ought to be questioned. Christmas tree sprays, the fifteen(?) new shampoos, botox (so those in Hollywood can stave off the effects of aging and their own choices), a new ingredient in chewing gum, several new brands of air freshener, hand sanitizer, a new "natural flavor" for our french fries, etc., etc. How about 'addiction' testing: Why - scientists aim to better understand by testing on thousands upon thousands of animals - do people get addicted to cocaine or tobacco when they choose to consume these products? What happens in the brain when heroine is introduced? Forcefully addicting/detoxing/re-addicting a rabbit is a means to this end. (Here's another prescription, "Don't do crack!" What will they do with the results anyways? Assume people will continue to do drugs, but we can "turn off" that part of the brain that make's it addictive?)"

Going further, I asked him, "Have we cured cancer yet?"

He argued in response: "[blank]"

Notice, I automatically appealed to examples that most would find reprehensible, but I didn't attack the assumptions that justify animal testing as an institution, or the speciesism it is predicated upon. This conversation ended as briefly as it began. As I've written before, these assumptions we make - "Animal testing cures cancer." - are rarely challenged, therefore, when someone has the audacity to say, "Wait one moment, let's talk about that.", the singular best defense is retreat.

A scientist's response (the emotional appeal): "What about AIDS, or diabetes? Scientists experiment on animals as a means to cure these diseases, and considering the terrible effects these illnesses have on humans, how can we not perform such tests? For the good of mankind..."

I might ask, "Have we cured AIDS or diabetes?"

They may respond, "We're getting there; we've made gains." The implied argument: "Just give us some more time." (Read, "Don't question the status quo; this is the only way to do it.")

I would reason: "Prove it by taking the scientific challenge of altering your methods and testing accordingly, as they're doing in Europe. What's implied in your argument - the 'necessary means to an end' defense - was used to justify experimentation on human infants, the poor and black Americans. Therefore, as a matter of ethics, your response doesn't follow."

These retorts work, up to a point. We cannot, however, rely on this method when we are confronted with the clever animal exploiter who says, "Okay, I'll stop X, Y, and Z, but as regards spinal cord research, we must continue." Our grounds for intuitive appeal are gone. Their argument, however, seems to hold as a matter of pure emotion. The same is true, in my opinion, for the exploitation of animals for food. Veal production is easily challenged, but "happy meat" retorts are readily available for the flesh peddler (and consumer). The philosopher's complaint remains strong.

I mention this to counter those who challenge ethical veganism on the grounds that we ought to be supporting humanely exploited animals in what is often euphemistically labeled the "compromise position." What is really implied is an unstated counter argument: Animals ought to be treated properly while we justifiably exploit them. However, therein lies the paradigmatic philosophical rub: One cannot reasonably(?) - not rationally - ascribe interests to property; however, so long as the calculus is "person" X's interests and "property" Y's interests, the outcome is pre-determined. Property is owned by moral persons. Therefore, the power relations are clearly asymmetrical.

The practical results are easily understood: "We cannot," the flesh industry argues, "feed and water cows who are two days from slaughter because if we do so the product is damaged and the market will reject it. Baby cows need to be emaciated or else their flesh doesn't count as veal." (Read, what is "necessary" is defined by the property owner.)

Returning to the beginning then: We must necessarily challenge the underlying paradigm of animals-as-property.

Will be crossposted @ Vegan Soapbox

While reading the slide show from Oprah's recent animal welfare extravaganza show, I came across an interesting quote from Julie Buckner, who was representing Californians for Safe Food. According to her, she opposes requiring that egg laying hens be provided with more space than a sheet of standard 8 x 11 paper because, "I don't want animals to suffer, but I don't want human beings to suffer either. And I really want to talk about the impact on people that this initiative has as well as the impact on animals."

In a discussion the other day I argued that some mentally challenged human beings ought to be considered morally similar to nonhuman animals. Therefore, I reasoned, lest we be demonstrably arbitrary, which is anathema to justice according to most (read impartiality), any experiment, for example, in which we are willing to exploit a bunny rabbit for our ends, we ought to be equally willing to do the same to a mentally challenged infant. I did not argue this so much as a defense of experimentation but as a means to challenge those undefended and indefensible assumptions we generally make without even realizing it.

The individual I was speaking with responded as follows:

"Well," she said, "the argument is that humans are some how better than animals."

This, of course, was not accompanied by a defense of this "argument" because rarely are we challenged, thus we don't think. It was an assumption stated as fact. Argument? Of course not. Mere statement? Yes.

Reasoning by example can help us deflect any "arguments" offered as support for this statement, so let's try one (a very brief description):

Can we justify forcefully impregnating a cow on the "rape rack," in the parlance, taking her  baby away, milking her on an assembly line until "dry," and repeating this process over and over and over again until she is "spent." After which she is transported in a tightly confined space over long distances - she's often not given water or food throughout transportation because it "spoils" her flesh - until she arrives at the slaughterhouse where she will be prodded up the line to her inevitable destination: death by bolt gun, electrocution, or the knife.

And what of her many children? The baby boy cows are purchased by the veal industry to become products in their detestable machine, while the girls are fattened to weight, not on milk of course but "feed," and returned to take their mothers' spot on the rape-pregnancy-birth-re-rape-etc. assembly line.

Why must this occur: Because we like the taste of dairy ice cream versus non-dairy ice cream. It's just that simple. In this ethical calculus, then, we have two competing interests: A) taste - "I like the taste of milk in my coffee" - and B) not suffering - "I have a fundamental interest in not being in pain; in giving my milk to my children; in being able to touch my mother when I am born; in not bleeding out when my throat is slit."

Since this process involves a tremendous amount of suffering, and because we are thinking, reasoning creatures, we have to justify forcing these experiencing beings to live this life we create for them. Let's try inserting our statement then: "Well, the argument is that humans are some how better than animals."

Does that work?

As an aside, the pathetic, the unjustifiably narcissistic, Anthony Bourdain wrote,

"Vegetarians are the enemy of everything good and decent in the human spirit, and an affront to all I stand for, the pure enjoyment of food."

Mr. Bourdain, then, apparently believes that infantilizing our reasoning, which concludes with arguments like, "Humans just have to be better than nonhuman animals," is everything good and decent in the human spirit. Interesting.

"The pure enjoyment of food," regardless of the consequences: Cannibalism anyone? Do you think that Southern slave-owners refused to acknowledge the moral questions that arise from making property out of another sentient being and concluded with: "The abolitionists are an affront to everything I stand for, the pure enjoyment of profit."? Humans can justify all sorts of evil by simply refusing to consider anything accept what "I want, I want, I want!" (enter foot stomping).

It's the same kind of non-reason as the statement discussed above. Well Mr. Bourdain, eat a dick! (You see, I used the same kind of argument against him that he uses against us. He lauds these examples of adolescent retorts.)

Will be crossposted @ Vegan Soapbox