So I was sitting in my undisclosed location a few days ago, cleaning out my aggregator and listening to the radio, when I heard a commercial — for what I cannot recall — that contained, give or take a word or two, the following pronouncement:
I’m a vegetarian. A man once offered me $50 to eat a buffalo wing. I decided that my morality was worth more than that.
It seems to me that this woman, by refusing to take the money, is actually declaring that her morality is worth less than $50, and indeed worth zero.
Interesting question. Of course, Kip has more.
First, an important premise: The buffalo wing in question must already exist, have been prepared, must be eaten immediately, etc. It must be, in economic terms, a sunk cost. By eating the buffalo wing, our vegetarian would therefore not be expanding the market for buffalo wings and would not cause any additional buffalos to be killed or go wingless.* The choice is binary: (1) eat the wing and get $50, or (2) someone else eats the wing (or the wing goes into the garbage, etc.). There is no “(3) save a buffalo.”
If that is the choice, then wouldn’t the moral course of action be to eat the buffalo wing, take the $50 — and donate it to some pro-vegetarian or anti-meat cause (or, for that matter, to any noble cause as determined by the vegetarian’s subjective tastes and preferences)? By forgoing $50 — or even $0.01 — that could have furthered her morality without any offsetting cost (remember the premise), isn’t the vegetarian in fact declaring that her morality is worthless?
The only true cost is opportunity cost. The opportunity cost of not eating the buffalo wing may have been $50 — but that’s the wrong opportunity cost to measure. Since the opportunity cost of indeed eating the buffalo wing was not $50 but zero, the value of the vegetarian’s morality must also be zero. Q.E.D.
Good grief. How about this? I wouldn’t eat the wing because I don’t want to. I even when I was a meat eater — some 16 years or so ago — I didn’t eat buffalo wings. So, why start now?
That said, the morality question is interesting. If, by eating the wing (for that matter you could make it a hamburger), according to Kip’s logic I would not be contributing to the system (factory farming, etc.) that produced it, because the wing had already been produced, prepared, paid for, etc.
On, then, to the question of morality. I’ve long since thrown up my hands over the morality issue. Perhaps it has something to do with being married to a meat-eater.
Sharing meals has always been an important courtship ritual and a metaphor for love. But in an age when many people define themselves by what they will eat and what they won’t, dietary differences can put a strain on a romantic relationship. The culinary camps have become so balkanized that some factions consider interdietary dating taboo.
No-holds-barred carnivores, for example, may share the view of Anthony Bourdain, who wrote in his book “Kitchen Confidential” that “vegetarians, and their Hezbollah-like splinter faction, the vegans … are the enemy of everything good and decent in the human spirit.”
Returning the compliment, many vegetarians say they cannot date anyone who eats meat. Vegans, who avoid eating not just animals but animal-derived products, take it further, shivering at the thought of kissing someone who has even sipped honey-sweetened tea.
“Honey-sweetened tea?” Oh please. I’ve kissed my husband after he’s just finished off an entire steak. Everyone needs to just calm the hell down a little.
And, yes, I know what’s at stake— or at steak, depending on how you want to look at it.
A SEA change in the consumption of a resource that Americans take for granted may be in store — something cheap, plentiful, widely enjoyed and a part of daily life. And it isn’t oil.
The two commodities share a great deal: Like oil, meat is subsidized by the federal government. Like oil, meat is subject to accelerating demand as nations become wealthier, and this, in turn, sends prices higher. Finally — like oil — meat is something people are encouraged to consume less of, as the toll exacted by industrial production increases, and becomes increasingly visible.
Global demand for meat has multiplied in recent years, encouraged by growing affluence and nourished by the proliferation of huge, confined animal feeding operations. These assembly-line meat factories consume enormous amounts of energy, pollute water supplies, generate significant greenhouse gases and require ever-increasing amounts of corn, soy and other grains, a dependency that has led to the destruction of vast swaths of the world’s tropical rain forests.
I’ve seen Earthlings, Meet Your Meat, 45 days, Frankensteer, and Fast Food Nation. I also read Fast Food Nation, My Year of Meats (fun read, by the way), and Mad Cowboy. I also know that grocery shopping is like walking through a minefield, and unfortunately being a vegetarian won’t protect me.
So I try, at least, not to be a self-righteous vegetarian. Maybe that’s because my initial reason was, as Kip put it, “selfish.”
I realize that there are people who are vegetarians strictly for (“selfish”) health considerations and not out of (“selfless”) moral concerns. For the purposes of this blogpost, however, you do not exist. Sorry.
Initially, I became a vegetarian for health reasons. I thought it would be better for me in the long run. At the time, heart disease and high cholesterol were cutting a swath through my family, and I decided that I would do something to avoid it if I could. (That was when I assumed vegetarian meant “healthy.” It does not, necessarily. After all, one can be a vegetarian and eat nothing but ice cream and potato chips.)
It wasn’t until I became interested in Buddhism that my vegetarianism took on a moral aspect. I decided that, in addition to health reasons, I did not want to be part of or contribute to a system that caused unecessary suffering to living beings. (Unnecessary for me, at least, because I discovered I could live without meat.) But I came up against some moral conflicts there. My years as an HIV/AIDS educator and activist made me realize that I couldn’t stand against any and all animal testing, for example. Perhaps it’s selfish, but if it means a medicine or treatment that will keep someone I love alive and healthy…well, I want that.
It was that conflict and my continued study of Buddhism that brought me around to tempering any moralizing about being vegetarian.
It wasn’t until I came across a book called “Wake up and Cook : Kitchen Buddhism in Words and Recipes.” I picked it up just as I was starting to study Buddhism on my own. It contained a discussion of Buddhism and vegetarianism that helped me put the two in the context. I’d begun to see — and to some extent still do — my own vegetarianism as an expression of the first precept; avoiding the taking of life. In that sense, it would be easy to be judgmental towards people who do eat meat, but this book argued for a more balanced view.
The book is packed away in a box right now, with most of my other books, so I can’t reproduce it’s argument here. But it basically boiled down to the reality that all meals, particularly in the modern world, involve the taking of life; sometimes on a massive scale. This link to UrbanDharma.Org sums it up pretty well.
The issue of meat eating raises difficult ethical questions. Isn’t the meat in a supermarket or restaurant killed “for” us? Doesn’t meat eating entail killing by proxy?
Few of us are in a position to judge meat eaters or anyone else for “killing by proxy.” Being part of the world economy entails “killing by proxy” in every act of consumption. The electricity that runs our computers comes from facilities that harm the environment. Books of Buddhist scriptures are printed on paper produced by an industry that destroys wildlife habitat. Worms, insects, rodents and other animals are routinely killed en masse in the course of producing the staples of a vegetarian diet. Welcome to samsara. It is impossible for most of us to free ourselves from this web; we can only strive to be mindful of entanglement in it. One way to do so is to reflect on how the suffering and death of sentient beings contributes to our comfort. This may help us to be less inclined to consume out of mere greed.
All of that having been said, it cannot be denied that the economic machine which produces meat also creates fear and suffering for a large number of animals. It is useful to bear this in mind even if one consumes meat, to resist developing a habit of callousness. Many Buddhists (especially Mahayanists) practice vegetarianism as a means of cultivating compassion.
…So, every meal we take, whether it includes meat or not, is basically death on a plate.
Besides, given the working conditions in China and other places where the goods we buy are made, I’m not just “eating suffering.” I’m wearing suffering. I’m carrying it around, attached to my hip. It’s an inescapable part of just being in the world we live in. (Or should I say, the world we’ve made for ourselves?) At best, I can be aware of it and, when I can, avoid consciously contributing to it. But the reality is that I contribute to it every day, without even trying. Just like everyone else. And it doesn’t matter what I eat.
It’s a moral choice, sure. But it’s one that I contradict in countless ways everyday; probably several times an hour, at least, inevitably. It’s something I have to put into perspective. The perspective I choose is, “I do what I can.” Emphasis on “I” and “can”.
So, the morality doesn’t really come down to eating meat. At least, not for me. It’s more about taking money to do something with my body that I don’t want to do or wouldn’t do anyway. Sounds a little like prostitution, I guess. But, then, I think prostitution should be legal anyway, for those who want to pursue that line of work.
So, no, I wouldn’t eat the buffalo wing. First, because I don’t want to. I never liked them anyway. Second, it’s not something I want to do to my body, especially given how my body might react after not eating meat for 16-plus years.
As for the $50. It’s $50 I didn’t have anyway. Maybe I would just take the offer as a reminder to make a donation to the animal welfare organization of my choice, in the amount of $50.