I will always be an omnivore. Nothing is going to change that. But I squirm at the fact that, according to Shaun Monson, I am ignorant. Meat tastes really good, and I am aware of the general abuse that occurs in slaughterhouses. But I would never directly hurt an animal. To an animal rights activist, I just contradicted myself. To the overwhelming majority of the human population, I have said nothing wrong. Perhaps, “Ignorance is the speciesist’s first line of defense.”[1] That “ignorance” is testament to the power of such a state of mind. I am conscious of what goes on, and I agree with the statement that “Killing an animal is, in itself, a troubling act.”[2] My circular reasoning currently leads me to believe I am either in denial of my ignorance or disbelief at my lack of compassion.

My cat Pepper. We, in fact, adopted her as a stray because we knew she needed a home.

Assume for a second that it was a common American practice to eat cat. I would never touch one. After growing up for the past ten years with Pepper, I have formed a bond. But I could never make that some connection with another animal (i.e., a cow) without the elongated juxtaposition I have undergone with Pepper. In his book The Outermost House, Henry Beston writes, “We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals.”[3] In order to curb the abuses, this is indeed what needs to happen. But the only way to achieve such would be to force all meat-eaters to grow up as cattle-ranchers. As long as we are human, though, we have other responsibilities. Activists may refer to those as trivial, but I object that those activists have absolutely no business telling me what is trivial and what is not. It is up to each individual to decide for his or herself what matters most, to prioritize a list a conveniences and then choose what he or she wants to believe in. Monson argues that “We must learn empathy, we must learn to see into the eyes of an animal and feel that their life has value because they are alive.”[4] Monson’s ideal is nearly impossible to achieve on a massive scale. Without communication, it is simply not going to happen. And, in fact, we cannot communicate fluently with animals, no matter what some left-wing, nature lover will tell us.
[5]

No matter how much time I might spend around an animal, trying to “bond” with it, I will never reach a mutual sense of communication. That is indeed the rub.

People will always exist above animals. Our genetic capabilities afford us this, and so it is hard to attribute the same rights to animals that humans deserve. Donald McNeil points out that the conflict exists in “how much kinship humans feel for which animals, and just which ‘human rights’ each human deserves.”[6] At some point, the idea of “animal rights” becomes silly. Apes driving cars? That should not even be taken seriously enough to be written about. Perhaps it boils down to conceit.

In Alice, there is a key difference: those animals could talk. After seeing a talking, hurried, white rabbit, “it occurred to [Alice] that she ought to have wondered at this”[7]. I might wonder, too, should I befriend a cow, whether or not I should order steak next time.

[1]“Earthlings”, E603A Course Anthology, Shaun Monson, X729
[2]“Earthlings”, E603A Course Anthology, Shaun Monson, X707
[3]“Earthlings”, E603A Course Anthology, Shaun Monson, X703
[4]“Earthlings”, E603A Course Anthology, Shaun Monson, X706
[5]http://www.insidesocal.com/greenspirited/cow2.jpg
[6]"When Human Rights Extend to Nonhumans", E603A Course Anthology, Donald G. Mcneil Jr., X732
[7]Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll, pg. 12