Sunday Morning Ponderables

Mark Bittman is not a vegan. However, he writes quite frequently, and quite eloquently, about the importance of limiting our meat consumption (his personal method is to eat vegan until 6 pm). Below is an article that resonated deeply with me because it delves, albeit briefly, into the idea that our current state of animal agriculture is harmful not only to the animals, the Earth, and our bodies, but to our psyches as well. The whole system is built to bring in as much profit as possible, regardless of what that means for the animals. But human beings are, overall, sensitive creatures. When we see with our very own eyes what happens on these factory farms, the horrors that the animals, as well as the laborers, have to endure, we become outraged! Because of this, secrecy and concealment are vital components to the process, integrated at every level. This is disturbing for many reasons, but especially because of the disconnect it allows us. We can still eat our steak and our bacon and our chicken nuggets and not have to even think about the road it traveled to our plates, the sheer amount of suffering involved in the process.

What effect does this have on  us as a society? If the concealment of animal suffering for the purpose of profit and pleasure is so deeply entrenched in our culture that most of us don't even think about it, doesn't it make sense that this secrecy, and the ability to disconnect that said secrecy affords us, would spill over to our interaction with other humans? From the anonymity of cyber-bullying to the sophisticated methods of modern warfare, human beings are severing the ties that bind us to each other, to our fellow creatures, and to the planet we live on. And it's not making us any happier.

Am I making sense? Sometimes I have trouble putting my thoughts into words. Anyway, these are the thoughts that plague me. What can I say? I've just always been the life of the party! *sigh*

I'll stop now, and let Mark Bittman fill in the rest. He's a professional, after all...


The Human Cost of Animal Suffering
By Mark Bittman
(published on NYTimes.com on March 13, 2012)

Until a couple of years ago I believed that the primary reasons to eat less meat were environment- and health-related, and there's no question that those are valid reasons. But animal welfare has since become a large part of my thinking as well. And I say this as someone not known to his friends as an animal-lover.

If we want a not-too-damaged planet to live on, and we want to live here in a way that's also not too damaged, we're better off eating less meat. But if we also want a not-too-damaged psyche, we have to look at how we treat animals and begin to change it.

We can start by owning up to the fact that our system is industrialized. And as horrible as that word - "industrialized" - seems when applied to what was once called animal husbandry, it is precisely the correct term. Those who haven't seen this, or believe it to be a myth perpetrated by PETA, might consider reading "Every Twelve Seconds: Industrialized Slaughter and the Politics of Sight," recently published by Timothy Pachirat. (This isn't a review, but the book is superbly written, especiall given the grimness of the subject.)

You might think that "every 12 seconds" refers to the frequency with which we kill animals, but in a moment you'll realize that that's impossible: we process more than nine billion animals each year - hundreds per second. No, 12 seconds is the frequency with which the Omaha slaughterhouse where Pachirat worked for five months killed cattle, a total of around 2,500 per day.

Pachirat, whom I interviewed by phone earlier this week, took the job not as an animal rights activist but as a doctoral candidate in political science seeking to understand the normalization of violence. Like others, he concluded that our isolation from killing allows us to tolerate unimaginably cruel practices simply because we don't see them. But Pachirat emphasizes that it's not only we - consumers - who are isolated from the killing, but workers: at his plant only seven people out of 800 were directly involved with live cattle, and only four with killing.

Not that the other workers have it easy: "Every Twelve Seconds" shatters any belief you might have about the system treating animals with a shred of decency. "The sheer volume, scale and rate of killing," Pachirat told me, "the way the animals form a continuous stream rather than individual creatures, makes it clear the animals are seen as raw material. The cattle are called 'beef' even while they're alive - and that not only protects people from acknowledging what they're doing and that they're doing it to sentient beings, it's also accurate, a reflection of the process itself."

Our assertion of our right to treat animals as we do iron or lumber or car doors - to treat them as widgets - is not cannibalism, but it's hardly consistent with our keeping of adored pets.

Meat-eaters may assert that this is somehow justifiable, because we "need" to eat meat - just not cats or dogs or goldfish - to live. And even though we don't (in fact, there's increasing evidence that too much of it is harmful; more on that later this week), we have more than two million years of tradition to point to, we have bodies that process meat well and even thrive on it in limited amounts and we have a love of eating animal flesh that for most of us may not go away any time soon.

None of which justifies egregious maltreatment. (Yes, vegan friends, I get that killing animals, period, is maltreatment. This ambivalence, or hypocrisy if you prefer, is for every ambivalent or hypocritical omnivore or flexitarian a puzzle, and scale is an issue.) That maltreatment must first be acknowledged in order for us to alleviate it.

And that acknowledgment is forthcoming. The allure - and habit! - of meat-eating may be too strong for most of us to give it up, but recognizing its consequences is a move toward a middle ground: a place where we continue to eat animals but exchange that privilege (that's what it is) for a system in which we eat less and treat them better, one that allows our children to make more human decisions. Because once we accept that farm animals are capable of suffering (80 percent of Americans believe this to be true), we might well wonder what they've done to deserve such punishment.

The most publicized stories about industrial agriculture represent the exceptions that prove the rule: the uncommon torture of animals by perverse individuals in rogue operations. But torture is inherent in the routine treatment of animals as widgets, and the system itself is perverse. What makes "Every Twelve Seconds" different from (for example) a Mercy for Animals expose is, says Pachirat, "that the day-in and day-out experience produces invisibility. Industrialized agriculture perpetuates concealment at every level of the process, and rather than focusing on the shocking examples we should be focusing on the system itself."

At that point we might finally acknowledge that raising, killing and eating animals must be done differently. When omnivores recognize that our way of producing and eating meat reduces not only slaughterhouse workers but all of us to a warped state, we'll be able to bring about the kind of changes that will reduce both the meat consumption and our collective guilt.

Pachirat says he has changed as a result of his experience, becoming increasingly interested in what he calls "distancing and concealment." He now intends to work on those issues as they relate to imprisonment, war, torture, deployment of drones and other sophisticated weaponry that allow impersonal killing. And it's because these connections make so much sense that we should look more carefully at how we raise and kill animals.

"I didn't get into this to focus on animal issues," he told me, "but my own relationship to eating meat has been transformed, and I now forgo it altogether. It's just not worth the pleasure when you know the system."

When we all know the system, we'll be even more eager to change it.

Mother Love

So today is Earth Day. The one day out of the 365 in a year that we have chosen to honor and celebrate Mother Earth and come together to spread awareness about environmental issues.

It's great. I love it.

No, really. I do.

It's just that, well, shouldn't every day be Earth Day? I know, I know, that line's been used so many times it hardly has any meaning anymore. But really, shouldn't we always be doing whatever we can to help the Earth? I suppose the true purpose of Earth Day is to bring awareness to those that are, well, unaware, and for that reason, I celebrate the day. I'm all about spreading the word! But, for some reason, on this particular Earth Day, I didn't feel much like celebrating. I have a feeling hormones and crazy children had something to do with my mood, but I think it was more than that.

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if we are destined to kill ourselves off, or if, as Wall-E predicted, we'll just blast our fat asses out into space (and honestly, I think I prefer the former). All I know is that for us to have any chance of surviving on this beautiful planet we call home, a drastic shift in thought and action is required. The way we are living is completely unsustainable, on so many levels, and we can talk about reducing our carbon footprints until the cows come home and it won't make a lick of difference unless we change the very core of our relationship with Mother Earth.

Quite simply, we need to love the Earth. In the same way that we love our mothers and our fathers and our children and our friends. We take and we take and we take and we seem to feel so entitled to all of this taking, and yet, what do we give back? We are stripping the land, decimating the oceans, poisoning the air, and treating our fellow creatures as mere commodities. How can we believe that this relationship is healthy? How can we believe that it will last? Would we treat our own mothers this way? Our children? Our romantic partners? Perhaps. But is it healthy when we do?

On this Earth Day, and every day hereafter, I encourage you to commune with nature. It can be hard to find sometimes, but it is out there! Go to the beach. Go to the woods. Go to the mountains, the hills, the river, the lake, your own freaking backyard even! Put down the cell phone, turn off the music, leave the camera at home. And just breathe her in. Because she is wild and wonderful, mysterious and magnificent. And she's the only one we've got. If we can all just realize how much we love her (and I use the word 'realize' here because I truly believe that, deep down, under all the layers of fear and technology, we all feel connected to nature), then we can start acting upon that love. When we are aware of the symbiotic relationship we have with the Earth, and all her inhabitants, we choose to take care of her, and them, not only because it is beneficial to us, but because it is beneficial for all.

Happy Earth Day, Everyone. Go plant a tree. And then hug it, like you mean it! :)

The Rainbow Connection

Evan's kindergarten teacher had a little talk with Stephen the other day when he came to pick Evan up after school. Apparently, Evan has the tendency to sing while he's working. His teacher has told him to stop multiple times, but she says it's almost as if he doesn't realize he's doing it. And that could certainly be the case. We have music on all the time at home; we're constantly singing and dancing around here. And you know how it is when you've got a song stuck in your head. Sometimes you find yourself singing it without really even thinking about it. At least I do, particularly when my hands are busy doing something.

Mrs. Clarke, I am sorry my son is interrupting your class. I really, truly am. I know it can't be an easy job managing a class of 25 wily kindergartners for 3 1/2 hours a day, 5 days a week, and I respect you for the work that you do. We have spoken to Evan about when it is appropriate to sing and when it is not and we have tried to show him some ways to be more aware of what he is doing in the classroom.

But, you guys, the song Evan sings in class is The Rainbow Connection. If he's going to get in trouble, I really can't think of a sweeter infraction. And although I hope he is able to control himself in the future and not interrupt the class with his lovely, if occasionally off-key, singing voice, I really can't help but smile at the thought of it.

In honor of my sweet little dreamer, who gets lost in song while doing his school work, I share with you the lyrics to one of our very favorite songs around here...

The Rainbow Connection

Written by Paul Williams and Kenneth Ascher

Why are there so many songs about rainbows

and what's on the other side?

Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,

and rainbows have nothing to hide.

So we've been told and some choose to believe it.

I know they're wrong, wait and see.

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.

The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

Who said that every wish would be heard

and answered when wished on the morning star?

Somebody thought of that and someone believed it.

Look what it's done so far.

What's so amazing that keeps us star gazing

and what do we think we might see?

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.

The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

All of us under it's spell. We know that it's probably magic.

Have you been half-asleep and have you heard voices?

I've heard them calling my name.

Is this the sweet sound that called the young sailors?

The voice might be one and the same.

I've heard it too many times to ignore it.

It's something that I'm supposed to be.

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.

The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

*   *   *

And, for your viewing pleasure, one of my favorite versions of the song, performed by Kermit and the impossibly cool Debbie Harry, during her guest stint on the Muppet Show in 1981:

Debbie, I just dig songs about rainbows too.

Don't you?

Sunday Morning Ponderables

People are taking the piss out of you everyday. They butt into your life, take a cheap shot at you and then disappear. They leer at you from tall buildings and make you feel small. They make flippant comments from buses that imply you're not sexy enough and that all the fun is happening somewhere else. They are on TV making your girlfriend feel inadequate. They have access to the most sophisticated technology the world has ever seen and they bully you with it. They are The Advertisers and they are laughing at you.


You, however, are forbidden to touch them. Trademarks, intellectual property rights and copyright law mean advertisers can say what they like wherever they like with total impunity.


Fuck that. Any advert in a public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It's yours to take, re-arrange and re-use. You can do whatever you like with it. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.


You owe the companies nothing. Less than nothing, you especially don't owe them any courtesy. They owe you. They have re-arranged the world to put themselves in front of you. They never asked for your permission, don't even start asking for theirs.

-- Banksy, from Cut It Out

I Really Can't Complain About the Weather

"A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves." -- Marcel Proust

"Yeah we all shine on, like the moon, and the stars, and the sun." 
--John Lennon

Destination: Monterey Bay

Panoramic of the beach just down the street from our hotel. (Photo by Stephen)

 

Photo by Stephen

Photo by Stephen

Photo by Stephen

Photo by Stephen

The hotels of Cannery Row (Photo by Stephen)

Photo by Stephen

Not a real cafe, but an interactive exhibit at the Monterey Bay Aquarium that teaches visitors about the toll commercial fishing is taking on our oceans and the animals that inhabit them.

The jellyfish exhibit is one of my favorites. So beautiful!

Dennis the Menace Park

Stephen getting a wedgie on the roller slide.

This park is incredible, an absolute must when visiting Monterey with young children.

Photo by Stephen

Photo by Stephen

Photo by Evan