The number and proportion of vegans, as well as the general acceptance of veganism, are slowly but inexorably increasing in our world—even here in meat-loving Texas. Prominent examples include Paul McCartney, Venus and Serena Williams, Bill Clinton, actor Woody Harrelson, Senator Cory Booker, NBA players Kyrie Irving and Chris Paul, and several members of the Tennessee Titans. Twenty years ago, the only likely mention of veganism in the Houston Chronicle would have been in connection with a controversy or an attempt at humor. Now there are frequent vegan recipes, and positive references in articles, columns, and comic strips.
I began exploring veganism in a less welcoming era. I don’t remember when I first developed a feeling for animals, but that was long before I did anything about it. I don’t recall, at ten, being especially sorry when my grandfather shot a calf in the head with a .22 before butchering it, or at watching him chop off the heads of chickens, though I did wish we could keep the chicken-killing owl that he caught in a trap rather than bashing in its head with a hammer. My attitude has gradually evolved. For years, I was a kind of closet semi-vegetarian, loath to kill anything, although I have had animals euthanized in what I considered their best interest. But where do we draw the line? Do we kill yellow jackets? Termites? Bacteria? It is said that Albert Schweitzer would not kill a mosquito. I don’t go that far. If I find a roach in the house, I take it outside and let it go, but I still use exterminators. I don’t like poisoning fire ants, but I do.
As a kid, I shot squirrels and rabbits and pheasants and pulled catfish out of the creek. Today, I would sooner feed a deer than shoot it, though I understand the inadvisability of feeding wild animals. Yet I cannot uniformly condemn hunters. Some have a fairly well-developed idea of what is “sporting,” some do not kill anything they do not intend to eat, some consider it unacceptable to wound an animal without killing it, etc. I have friends and acquaintances who hunt, and the fact that I do not share their views does not make them evil. Moreover, hunting what you eat and killing it quickly and humanely is better than supporting the commercial meat industry, where millions of animals every day are systematically abused.
More than the killing, it is this extreme suffering of animals that I find unacceptable. Factory farms and other commercial animal enterprises are awful places. Two video images may haunt me forever. The first is of a kitten in a “research laboratory” who, after having some nerves cut, has been put back into a cage with its mother. The kitten is stumbling around and crying, crying, crying, and the mother can do nothing. The second shows a completely skinned raccoon dog (bred in China for their pelts), still alive and fully conscious, with its skinless and therefore earless skull, in which, from time to time, its eyes blink. The truth about meat farms and slaughterhouses is readily available from People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA)’s “Meet Your Meat” video. Occasionally, videos like this generate an uproar, like an undercover video shot in a poultry plant that showed chickens being physically tormented.
Production methods for veal and foie gras are likewise gruesome. Nor does culpability attach only to food, “research,” and frivolities like fur and leather. At one time, almost anything you could buy would have had animal abuse in its background. The lines are easier to draw today, and there is correspondingly less excuse for failing to draw them. The only possible justification for the animals’ suffering would be that it is necessary or that it doesn’t matter. I have concluded that it is not necessary and that it does matter.
Becoming a vegan takes effort. Once you’re in, staying in isn’t so hard, though it’s more of a struggle in places like Beaumont, where, unlike in Austin or Albuquerque, most restaurants are not yet vegetarian-friendly and you can’t always find what you want in stores. Gradually, this new way of life becomes natural, and forbidden foods lose their appeal. For me, quitting smoking was considerably more difficult.
My position is not theological or metaphysical, but rather ethical. It is based on the straightforward proposition that causing or contributing to unnecessary suffering is not permissible. The canard of protein deprivation often arises, but a vegan can easily get sufficient protein. Legumes are excellent sources. Tofu, made from soybeans, contains all seven essential amino acids. The Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics says, “A well-planned vegetarian or vegan diet can meet the nutrient needs of people during all stages of life.”
I think many people will concede that what they like most about meat dishes are the flavorings and spices. What would barbecue be without the seasonings and the sauce, or gumbo without the filé? Why insist on putting meat and fish in these preparations when plant-based products would taste fine, be more healthful, and preempt suffering? To some extent, I miss milk products and eggs, though there are increasingly satisfying replacements.
Some argue that abolishing the meat industry would cause unacceptable economic hardships. Certainly, transitional measures will be necessary. But spurious economic arguments have been advanced in favor of many injustices. Today, most agree that some things are unacceptable. Cruelty to animals should be added to the list.
The experience of being a vegan has enhanced my understanding of others’ motivation for the observance of religious dietary restrictions. While I am pretty much a true believer, I’m not a purist. Accordingly, I find it difficult to refuse to eat something prepared for me in good faith. In the evacuation before Hurricane Rita, following a 27-hour drive, the parents of one of my son’s friends in North Texas took in my family and fed us. I ate the ham sandwiches that they offered. I wasn’t going to say, “I’m sorry, I don’t eat that.”
Unlike some animal advocates, I would not ban all research and testing. But I would closely examine methods and alleged benefits. Since animals are not capable of informed consent, safeguarding their interests is our responsibility.
Every time I sit down to eat or buy clothing, I make a choice. I cause a little suffering, or I prevent a little suffering. Those little bits add up. A lot of people’s little bits add up to a great deal. Compassion-based movements never get smaller with time. At some point in the future, I believe, veganism will be the norm, and meat-eaters will constitute a diminishing minority and then a vanishing fringe. I no doubt won’t see that in my lifetime, but I hope my eleven-year-old granddaughter will in hers.
Not long ago, on a highway near Houston, I passed an 18-wheeler hauling live chickens. The back and sides of the trailer were open, and I could see everything on my side. The birds had been stuffed two to a wire cage, which was too small for them to stand or spread their wings, and those cages were stacked stem to stern and bottom to top. Those on the outside had the wind blowing their faces and I could tell by the looks in their eyes that they were suffering. Only those in the top rank would have been free from droppings from above. At least it wasn’t raining. Or maybe that would have been better. The truck, with Georgia plates, was eastbound. What would happen to the chickens when they reached their destination, I didn’t want to contemplate. I wondered if the operation included a built-in estimate of en-route mortality.
Witnessing scenes like this, an increasing number of us are feeling drawn (you might say “called”) to speak for creatures who cannot speak for themselves. I believe that animals should have legal rights, and I am determined to help them as I can. Many people are working to improve the lives of people, and that’s fine. But more of us should try to improve the lives of our non-human comrades.
