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In
his 1954 essay, "The Question concerning Technology," the philosopher and
unrepentant Nazi Martin Heidegger wrote: "Agriculture is now a mechanized
food industry, in essence the same as the manufacture of corpses in the
gas chambers and death camps."
The former rector of
Freiburg has by now been (almost) universally denounced for his equation
of Auschwitz and agribusiness, notwithstanding a few academic disciples
who remain convinced that their master could do or say no wrong.
Heidegger, it seems, wanted nothing short of peasants in quaint national
costumes dirtying their hands to bring viands to his austere Black Forest
table (machine-picked cabbage is so inauthentic). Among
European philosophers, Heidegger's contemptuous idiocy would remain
unrivaled until Jean Baudrillard's quip about the World Trade Center's
former workers that "the horror for the 4,000 victims of dying in those
towers was inseparable from the horrors of living in them -- the horror of
living and working in sarcophagi of concrete and steel."
Yet there is one respect in which the comparison of modern farming methods
to the mass killing of humans cannot but strike one as fair. To wit, 10
billion cows, pigs, lambs, chickens (and scattered other creatures) are
slaughtered per year in the United States alone, bringing a painful end to
their short, miserable, lives in squalid and stinking crates.
The term "animal holocaust" has been making the rounds, in reference to
the mass slaughter of animals in factory farming. Is this an impious
mockery, worthy of Heidegger, of an event that was without parallel in
history? Or is it, on the contrary, a true and simple description of what
is happening? Surely we may agree with Norman Finkelstein that to insist
upon the uniqueness of the Holocaust to the point of outlawing all
comparison would be unscientific, and irresponsible. Nothing human beings
do is completely unlike other things they do. We might then begin by
noting that factory farming is not carnivorism-as-usual in much the same
way that the Holocaust was not war as usual. We might also note that both
systems of mass killing can be traced back to assembly-line techniques
initially developed by Henry Ford and others not for the destruction of
living creatures, but for the production of machines.
But killing humans is to be despised, some will say, while eating the
flesh of animals is just in our nature, like the sting in a scorpion's
tail. It is true that humans have always and almost everywhere eaten
meat. But that is no compelling defense of the present system, for people
have always and everywhere conducted war, and almost all of us agree that
this is a good thing, if not to eliminate, then at least to minimize. Not
only have people always waged war, they've also been, for the most part,
either actively involved in genocide or itching to be so involved, and it
is probably no exaggeration to say that most societies in human history
would have relished the opportunity to do to their neighbors what the
fillers of mass graves in the 20th century in fact did. What they lacked
in earlier times was not the evil, just the equipment.
The Roman soldiers who placed diseased animal corpses upriver from towns
they wished to destroy could no more cognize the moral abhorrence we feel
today at mass killing of humans than they could imagine that someday a
small minority of people would find meat-eating objectionable. Indeed, if
these Romans had read their Greek forebears, they would have learned of a
culture that generally valued martial virtues while often denouncing the
consumption of animal flesh as unholy. The point is that all the moral
outrage about war in our present era, even war against civilians, appears
to be something of a historical anomaly, and thus one can't but ask the
question: by what right can we look at a practice -- the mass slaughter of
animals -- that is patently similar to the mass slaughter of humans in
numerous ways, and refuse to acknowledge its moral abhorrence on the
grounds that “this is just what people have always done”?
Many people have good reasons for not being able to get behind the idea of
“animal rights.” Some point out, compellingly, that it is absurd to carry
on about animal rights in a world in which we are doing such a poor job of
ensuring that humans enjoy human rights. But one does not have to go so
far as to affirm that animals have rights to agree that the present system
of meat production is abhorrent. Animals are not things, any more than
humans are. They are creatures, and creatures command a very different
sort of treatment than the sundry inanimate objects that dot our
landscape: this not for reasons having to do with morality, but simply as
a matter of fact. To be in a room with a raccoon is a very different sort
of experience than to be in a room with a toaster. Try it sometime. The
raccoon is another; the toaster is an object, and you do not have to be
particularly sentimental about cute and fuzzy things in order to grant
this.
The present system of meat production is perceived as acceptable by most
not due to any widespread consensus that animals are not the sort of
creatures that have rights, and thus that whatever happens to them behind
the gates of a factory farm is morally irrelevant. It is perceived as
acceptable only because it is not, for the most part, perceived. What is
perceived is the finished commodity, wrapped in cellophane, physically and
conceptually remote from the creature that gave it. This system enables
people to participate in and perpetuate a practice that many would not be
able to condone, or even stomach, if they were required to draw a bit
closer to the stench of blood and feces, to the incalculable suffering,
that goes into the production of their meals. This system is capitalism
perfected, the same smooth exploitation of false consumer consciousness
that makes sweatshop-produced sporting gear and fuel-inefficient SUV's
possible, yet, with respect to the suffering involved (if I may be
permitted to make such a comparison), vastly worse.
To insist on waiting until all human problems are taken care of before we
get around to animal suffering is nothing but an evasion. For the sort of
society that can accommodate mass slaughter and torture of animals is one
so skilled at positioning its blinders that these may just as easily be
deployed to block out any inconvenient human suffering as well. In other
words, if facing up to the suffering of animals is put off on the grounds
that human suffering is more important, then it will be put off forever.
Justin E. H. Smith
is a professor of philosophy at Concordia University and a frequent
contributor to various publications. A partial archive of his writing may
be found at:
www.jehsmith.com
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