Animal Person

Where Does Vegan Baby Sky Get Her Protein?

I'm constantly asked about the details of Baby Sky's life.

Where does she get her protein?

How are her bones going to grow without cow's milk?

You mean she's never eaten bacon?

Are you a communist?

At Baby Sky's 15 month checkup she landed at about the 75th percentile for height and weight. She comes from small stock, so I do see that decreasing a bit. It's already down from the 90th percentile. She was a gigantic baby!

She has been sick twice, once with a viral infection and once with a bacterial one (strep). We've been fortunate enough to have avoided the dreaded first trip to the emergency room, which is a tad surprising because the child is a fearless, avid explorer with a lot of energy. A lot.

Her nutrition came from Earth's Best organic soy formula for the first year, and since then she's been eating non-baby food supplemented by a bottle of Baby's Only organic soy formula (designed for toddlers and can be used until age 3). I use half water and half organic carrot juice and organic apple juice. I made some pureed food for her for a couple of months but she wasn't really that interested and I was a bit concerned until after her first birthday, when she decided to eat everything.

Her favorite breakfast? A plate of strawberries, watermelon, cantaloupe, blueberries and peaches, followed by banana ice cream. Banana ice cream = frozen bananas + ground flax seeds + raw cashew butter + raw almond butter + almond milk + Vita Mix. Plenty of fat, protein, omega-3s and yumminess. I eat it, too. Saturday morning is pancake morning. Spelt, oat bran, whole wheat, coconut flour. Blueberries and bananas. Or not. Maybe even some 80% dark chocolate (slavery-free, care of Equal Exchange--Panama's the kind we get). Of course she eats a bunch of batter first, then a couple of pancakes.

Her favorite lunch? Vegetable hummus + avocado on whole wheat pita bread. Dessert? Brown rice pudding (brown rice + a warm mixture of toffuti cream cheese, tofu and coconut butter). Her favorite snack? Roasted zucchini sprinkled with Daiya in a pool of marinara. She'll eat an entire zucchini. She loves kale chips. Ditto for vanilla soy yogurt. Steel cut oats? Yummy. Snow balls are a huge favorite (ground organic raisins, dates, almond and walnuts rolled in shredded coconut). As far as drinks go, she has one that looks and tastes similar to chocolate milk, made with almond milk and chocolate-flavored Amazing Grass Kidz Superfood. And then there's "fruit punch," or, orange juice + water + the wildberry Kidz Superfood. She doesn't walk around drinking straight wheat grass--Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Dinner? Sweet potatoes with navy beans. Garbanzo bean salad, mashed a bit (her molars are still giant blisters). Any kind of gardein, chopped, with sauteed asparagus, is always a great meal. Smoothies, complete with orange juice, raw fruits, raw nut butters and a handful of kale. Delicious!

On the non-food green front, we used cloth diapers and then practiced Elimination Communication since month 10, and Baby Sky now pees and poops in her potty and doesn't wear a diaper except at night (and that's probably about to change). She's napping right now, diaper free. During the diaper months, rather than wipes, I used receiving blankets cut up into smallish squares and a squirt bottle of water. We still use the cut up blankets as rags/in place of paper towels.

The toy rule is pretty much: Little or no plastic and no batteries. She has a lot of wood toys and I'm queasy about where the wood came from, so that's not ideal. Otherwise, her room looks very sparse. And yellow. Very yellow (we used a no VOC paint, at least). But that's another story.

For a short time, Sky slept in a crib (secondhand, from a neighbor) with a (new) coconut coir mattress, but now she sleeps on a full size futon on the floor (formerly of one of the guest rooms upstairs--so no purchase necessary!). It's a Montessori thing. And let me be the first one to say that bassinetts and cribs are a complete waste of money; all you need is a mattress on the floor and some firm pillows surrounding it (for the early months).

Sky doesn't have a lot of stuff and I don't have a lot of gear. She spends most of her time outside, naked (it's still nearly 90 degrees here), exploring the world. She has very few pieces of clothing (and most are secondhand) and many of her books and toys are secondhand (and we had to weed through them for animal use). There are several girls a bit older than Sky on the block who give us lots of goodies. And there's one younger. The younger one gets the loot as soon as that's appropriate, and/or I donate them to the local Foster and Adoptive Parents Association.

So far, no one has been interested in trying cloth diapers, and stores won't take them, so if anyone has any need for them, speak now before they become rags!

Sky's days wouldn't be complete without her constant companion, Emily Fokker (our chunky FIP kitty). They follow each other around all day and rub their faces on each other. It's adorable! Violet Rays, being nearly 12 and nearly blind, isn't as keen on the child. Or any other child. Or the cat. Or anyone else, for that matter. I think she likes me but that's about it. Plus, only the trained eye would be able to determine that she likes me.

I mention this because all too often people surrender their dogs--or even cats--once they have children. I'll refrain from ranting. But what I will say is that you work at it. I have taught Sky to stay away from Violet. If Violet approaches her Sky may touch her, but only with one finger. Sky gives her a wide berth when she walks around her, and yes, it's a bummer that Sky is a little afraid of dogs. But that's far better than Sky not respecting them and then having them feel they must defend themselves. The most Violet will do is bark and show her four teeth, but trust me when I say that her boney, old, alpha self can make a grown man jump in fear when she wants to, all without ever laying a paw on him.

There you have it: a rough sketch of Baby Sky's life. If you have any questions about anything we do or use, fire away! No matter what your beliefs are, when you're a parent you educate yourself about parenting style, nutrition (and Ginny Messina's fabulous Vegan for Life recently arrived and includes nutrition information as well as sample menus for kids!) and formal education options (if you're lucky enough to have options). I may be a vegan and an atheist, but I'm really just a parent doing the best I can to give my child the best life possible.

On "Imposing" Our Beliefs on Our Children

It's fascinating, how what 98% of Americans do with their children is called "parenting" and "guidance." It can also be referred to as "transmission of culture," with its handing down of the trappings, rituals, holidays and even mutilations of religion and ethnicity.

But what I do is "imposing" or "forcing" veganism and atheism on my child. It's not parenting; it's considered behavior that's irresponsible at best, and abusive at worst.

As far as atheism goes, I'd rather my child have a healthy skepticism that is fact driven and science driven. I'd rather stress personal responsibility and the realistic notion that life isn't fair and owes you nothing. And that we have the ability to change our lives and circumstances (and that that is a statement of privilege). You know what would be irresponsible? For me to tell my daughter that there's some invisible being who, if he desires, can control anything in the universe he wants to control. Including her life. That she needs to respect that being, or else. Or even worship that being, who may or may not exist. That she might suffer tremendously in her life, and that the Being With Ultimate Power is actually doing her a favor by making her suffer. By choosing her to suffer in the manner in which she suffers. He has his reasons.

My parents did their best to raise my sister and me. They did nothing controversial and my sister and I grew up more or less just like most of our friends on suburban Long Island. We were presented with animals to eat and wear. We ate and wore them. We were presented with animal bodies to celebrate over at holidays. Animal skin to wear on our feet.

When my husband and I first adopted Baby Sky, several friends and relatives asked, "are you going to make her be a vegan? And what happens if she decides to eat meat later on?" Essentially, my parents made me eat and wear dead animals. I grew up respecting dogs and cats, but not other animals. Animals existed for my entertainment in zoos, water parks and at circuses. It wasn't in the consciousness of my parents that the values they were transmitting were marked by disrespect for others. They were simply raising us as best they could within the mainstream culture.

One could also say, however, that they were imposing their beliefs on us. They were forcing us to be consumers of animal exploitation industries. I'm not sure if it technically takes a level of intent to force or impose beliefs, or if you can do it by default by not offering other options or not encouraging critical thinking. Saying, "we eat animals, because that's what we do" may make no sense whatsoever, but it's the reason many people continue to eat animals. To do or think otherwise, to acknowledge the absence of logic or empathy in that reasoning, is to open a door that cannot be closed, regardless of the behavior that follows.

When I was in my teens, I told my dad (who was driving the Catholic bus, while mom drove the bus headed toward Buddhism) that I wasn't going to go to church until girls could be priests. I'd been thinking about the set-up of The Church and didn't like it. I had good reasons, which were listed, listened to and respected, and I stopped going to church. And when I discovered what animals went through on their way to becoming our meals, I made appropriate changes in that direction as well.

I'm raising my daughter with a clear, stated ethic: Respect other beings, as no one exists for your benefit. I'm forcing that on her just as much as the omnivores next door are forcing their ethics on their children, through their words and deeds.

It's transmission of a culture that I'm proud of.

If Sky reaches her teens and decides that animals do indeed exist for our benefit, and that there is a god whom she'd like to worship (and furthermore, that her name is spelled Skye), we'll deconstruct those notions together and she will do what she will do. But I won't feel like I had done her a disservice by raising her with a heart for justice and a mind for inquiry.

Vegan Atheist 40+ Parenting

I was going to change Animal Person to Vegan Atheist 40+ Parenting and come back to blogging. Doesn't have a ring to it at all, but a young man at Whole Foods yesterday called himself an "animal person" while ordering a roast beef wrap and I thought: Note to self-must change blog name if going to resume blogging.

Hal Herzog writes about how many people who say they are vegetarians will also say they ate meat within the last 24 hours. And of course, many self-identified vegetarians eat fishes and/or chickens. A good friend said he "loved" animals the other day and my response was, "Yeah, you love them grilled." He laughed, but nervously.

Then there are the people who use the word "sacred" when they're talking about eating the flesh of other animals. You know, because of the prayer they said for the animal's "sacrifice." You say a prayer and Poof! The unnecessary killing of a terrified animal who was likely fighting for his life, becomes he lined up to be slaughtered so you may dine on his flesh. Oooo, pick me, pick me!

My doctorate in Applied Linguistics from New York University puts me at a considerable disadvantage. I pay attention to the words people say--and write. And sometimes I feel like words weren't made to get that much attention. They can't handle it. So many of them have become virtually meaningless, or at least unrecognizable from their original intentions.

Hal Herzog's "Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat"

Hal Herzog’s “Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat” (Harper 2011), though fascinating, is ultimately depressing for vegans and animal rights activists. Over at Animal Rights and AntiOppression, we’ve been discussing tactics and sharing our thoughts and experiences about what works and doesn’t work when it comes to advocacy. In a manner that’s Malcolm Gladwell meets Freakonomics, which is the fascinating part, Herzog investigates our beliefs and actions regarding nonhuman animals (anthrozoology). He pairs conventional wisdom with actual research on such wisdom and speaks to experts who’ve been pondering the issues from the perspectives of their various disciplines. The research, much of the time, doesn’t support the conventional wisdom (which is not to say the case is closed on any issue). For instance, dolphins don’t actually have the curative powers some claim they have (22); there’s no evidence that pet owners have different personalities than non pet owners (28); having to kill and cut up an animal does not stop one from eating meat (189); the majority of people who abused animals as children do not grow up to be violent (30); and 80% of serial killers do not have a known history of cruelty to animals (31). Herzog states, “The awkward fact is that most wanton animal cruelty is not perpetrated by inherently bad kids but by normal children who will eventually grow up to be good citizens” (34).

 

Most interesting for me was the mental lock most people have that we vegans are always looking to break or find the key to: Why do good people who understand what happens to animals for unnecessary products such as “steak” or eggs, continue to consume such things? The answer, throughout the entire 300 pages, essentially is: Because they do. People believe one thing and do another. All day long. If slaughterhouses had glass walls? Well, as it turns out neither a trip to a slaughterhouse nor killing an animal yourself is powerful enough to make people go vegan. “The bottom line is that there are many reasons why human-animal interactions are so often inconsistent and paradoxical. Thousands of studies have demonstrated that human thinking about nearly everything is surprisingly irrational” (65).

 

Much of the book deals with topics vegans have likely pondered, likely frequently. We understand the importance of being cute for other animals, we’ve realized that the decision who to eat or wear or value is largely based on culture. Many of us have difficulty with the idea of keeping “pets.” On that topic and a few others, Herzog doesn’t include what for lack of a better term is “vegan thinking.” When it comes to pets, the only reasons he considers for keeping pets have to do with the enrichment of the lives of people. He doesn’t seem to have met anyone who considers keeping pets to not be ideal, yet necessary out of a feeling of responsibility or obligation due to our part in their plight. And by the way, he debunks the idea of dogs and unconditional love, as well as the idea that pet owners are less lonely than people who don’t own pets. At least his research on pit bull-types of dogs demonstrates the injustice they face.

 

Herzog, unsurprisingly, uses “it” to refer to animals, eats and wears them, and “[does] not feel particularly guilty about it” (P.S., page 6). He is an unabashed speciesist, putting humans on “a different moral plane from that of other animals” (11) due to various reasons, such as our “vastly greater capacity for symbolic language, culture, and ethical judgment” (11). He watched cockfighting and killed and skinned animals, but won’t eat veal. And this is partly what’s so disappointing about the message of this book: Herzog amasses the research, and sees and does things that involve tremendous suffering and injustice. And yet he’s perfectly content to lump himself in with the vast majority of people who claim to care about animals but act like they don’t. My frustration is evident in the comments I’ve carved across the pages that make it impossible for me to now donate the book to my local library.

 

On page 172, when Herzog writes, “I am conflicted over many moral issues involving animals,” I respond, “No kidding!” When he spends what seems like an eternity discussing cockfighting and the people who participate, mostly to set up the comparison to how the chickens we eat are treated and the lack of outrage over that, I respond, “What is wrong with you? You’re right, it is horrible! So why the hell do you continue to participate in the killing of chickens for food, yet cockfighting is no longer on your list?” But I’m merely making his point. People are irrational and conflicted and make a show of taking a stand but manage to still do whatever they want in the end. When Staci, an ex-vegetarian who now eats raw meat, writes to Herzog that she thinks it takes bravery to kill animals (she says “butcher) and talks about “reverence” and “completing the cycle” and that “taking responsibility is somehow the balm that soothes the horror,” I wonder why Herzog isn’t disgusted by that and doesn’t want to call her out for her ridiculous verbiage that means nothing to the animals she kills. What about their horror?  In response, I can only underline these phrases with seven-page deep gashes.

 

Most informative for a discussion about vegan advocacy is the section about the animal rights movement (and unfortunately he alternately calls it “animal protection” and also refers to welfare, perhaps because of the Humane Research Council’s study that people prefer the word “protection”). “The campaign to moralize meat has largely been a failure. . . . Ironically, the efforts by animal protectionists to improve the well-being of farm animals have made the consumption of flesh more, rather than less, morally palatable” (191).

 

Finally, regarding actual animal rights, Herzog is aware of Singer and Regan and appears to have respect for them despite the fact that he says they “[take] moral consistency too seriously” (259). (Yes, you read that right.) Joan Dunayer is a different story, however, as Herzog thinks she “lives in a moral universe that should cause even hardcore animal activists to shudder” (255). He evidently has no idea that abolitionists exist and thinks Dunayer is an outlier. Of course I was appalled, but out there in the mainstream world, she is an outlier. He merely reminds me of how little I have in common with the average person who claims to care about animals. Meanwhile, throughout the book he does describe people who would likely call themselves abolitionists. They are vegans, and he has the utmost respect for them. They are superheroes for being able to think about all of these issues so thoroughly and have the will power to do something about them. They are extraordinary. But him? He prefers to take the stance that because moral consistency is impossible (i.e., no one is 100% vegan), you “do what you can do.” If that means volunteering at a dog rescue or giving money to PETA, all while eating and using animals, at least you’re doing something. Of course that can be debated. But also, it’s such a low, low bar—such a disappointing expectation. We should demand more.

 

Clarification on Messaging

Vegan education/advocacy for animals is easiest for me when I know my audience. And by "know," I mean I have a relationship with them and/or I understand what drives them, what they appreciate and what they can tolerate. From there, my job is to use images and language that they are comfortable with, especially at the beginning, and then to nudge them gently into areas that challenge their thoughts and actions. Some people can tolerate more than a gentle nudging. Some people get what to me is disproportionately defensive if I'm anything but very accepting of their choices and how much they want to know. Of course, those people, who are often the "spiritual" ones, are particularly frustrating to deal with.

I was going in a different direction with this post when I read Deb's "Effective Images in Advocacy: Do We Know What Works?" this morning. She makes such a great point that I want to address it now. We don't know what works. Everyone has an opinion. Everyone has a story. Anecdotal evidence abounds. We all have a personal preference. But when it comes to reaching the maximum number of people and creating the maximum impact, we simply don't know what does the job, although we do know what we're willing to do.

If you've seen The Witness, you know that Eddie drove around with a van that had a continuously looping video of what it takes to get the fur that some find so appealing (and he gave out leaflets, too). And right now, Mercy for Animals' Farm to Fridge Tour is doing that too, in addition to picketing and getting mainstream media exposure for the short film. PETA's been using horrifying images for years. Earthlings is devastating and although I watched it in full, I can't imagine anyone I know being prepared for it or agreeing to watch more than a few minutes.

I spent years forcing people to look at photos of bludgeoned baby seals, "veal" calves in crates and skinned animals. I always used the words "flesh" and "enslavement." I don't think any of that was incorrect, per se. But I can say that it immediately put the other person on the defensive. As far as I know, all I accomplished was presenting myself as an angry person who people didn't want to talk to again.

Okay . . . maybe I used the word "murder." Maybe I used it regularly. And just maybe that was the word more responsible than others for me alienating people. Maybe. I can't say for sure. I was the embodiment of "agitating for social change." I was agitating everyone.

Challenging someone's beliefs--or clarifying that their beliefs are not aligned with their actions--is an adversarial task inherently. And it's up to us to decide just how adversarial it should be. But I can't imagine that there's one way to do it and we should criticize every other way. If you find something that works for you with your audience, I say keep doing it.

 

On Fighting for "Animal Rights"

Being featured on ARZone's worldwide Live Guest Chat has reinvigorated my thinking about a couple of topics (here's the transcript). And then I read the "OMG!!!!!OED!!!!!LOL!!!!!" in today's New York Times, and I couldn't resist posting.

A couple of years ago I wrote about whether it's a good use of my time to be a purist about the term "animal rights" when most of the world doesn't have the same understanding of the term as I do. (I'll look for the post and link to it later, but while Baby Sky's not up yet I want to at least post something.) Likewise for "abolitionist."

Regarding the additions of OMG and LOL, the editorial says that they:

bring to mind the words of William Safire, The Times’s former master wordsmith, who climbed down from the conservative ramparts in the culture wars 25 years ago to accept that “words come to mean what most people think they mean, not what we say they ought to mean.”

I spent several years writing, daily, and often with shock, about how, for instance, the NYT--the New York Times (OMG!!!!!)--would call HSUS an animal rights group (after all, HSUS doesn't even do that). Or how a paragraph would refer to animal rights and animal welfare as if they're interchangeable.

Of course, I say to myself, language is worth fighting for. But is it? Won't the battle always be won by common usage/the majority? Isn't my time better spent fighting for actual animal rights than the term "animal rights?"

I think of the time I spent writing about or talking about "Francione-style abolition," and "abolition." Francione has defined abolition in a certain way and if you don't adhere strictly to his definition, you are not a Francione-style abolitionist. The rest of the animal advocacy community, which is the vast majority, who call themselves abolitionists, are abolitionists. They don't satisfy all of the requirements of Francione, but their goal is the abolition of the use of sentient nonhumans by humans. They are abolitionists, just not Francione-style abolitionists.

It would be wonderfully dramatic to be able to say: I'm going to fight for animals rather than for language, but it's not that clear cut. Fighting to maintain the integrity of the words humane, love, euthanasia or compassion, is also fighting for animals. And it usually involves exchanges with non-vegans. It helps them focus on what's really being done to animals. But fighting for the term animal rights or about the term abolition ends up, in the real world, being about fighting with other vegans (and I don't know if fighting is the proper term--it very likely isn't--but I'm out of time to get into that).

I could debate about language all day, with vegans and non-vegans. But I have to think about which words I focus on, and whether they're going to help me in my quest to get more people to stop killing nonhuman animals/having them killed when they don't need to.

Finally, I think that there are a variety of reasons you might want to talk about language or use language that the average person isn't accustomed to. But for the average discussion with the average dog and cat person, I say stick with the language they use ("I love animals," "I only buy meat that was humanely raised"), and use those opportunities to educate them and point out the inconsistency in their claims. I say don't start talking about terms that mean nothing to them or using language that might alienate them.

But that's me . . .

Animal Person at ARZone This Saturday

 

I'm honored to have been asked to be interviewed at the next worldwide Live Guest Chat hosted by ARZone.

Questions must be submitted to [email protected] by midnight GMT on Wednesday.

Here's the link to the page, and I hope to meet you there.

Thanks!

Mary Martin, PhD

 

 

 

"The Animals We Use," Revised

As anyone who writes and edits knows, it's far easier to produce a longer powerful, thorough piece than a shorter one.

I intentionally deleted the entire section on the environment, I'm not dealing with the health benefits of not using animals, and meanwhile I wanted to present a logical progression of comments and questions that, for its perspective, was thorough. And all while remaining accurate with verbiage.

Thanks for the comments and suggestions. I did change some language as there were places were clarification was needed. But the essence is the same. Thorough is a tough concept, and I can't say I succeeded, but here's my best short(er) version.

I give you: the revised Thinking Critically About The Animals We Use.

 

The Animals We Use

After failing miserably at a long pamphlet in 2007, I decided to shorten it by 50% and focus on a different audience: people who use animals. I think part of the original work's problem was that it was too ambitious--not to mention expensive to produce--and everything suffered. I wanted to reach people who use animals, but also people who don't, yet who nevertheless advocate for the regulation of the use of animals or give money to organizations that do.

This pamphlet, by the way, is the same one I gave to someone whose response was: The argument for using animals isn't the problem. The argument's flawless. It's just not gonna stop me from eating a steak if that's what I want to eat.

So we already know that, at least for some people, words aren't going to make them care. Words, apparently, do not engender empathy. Or a desire for justice. For that, we need images, I'm afraid. We need to see individual animals and read/hear their stories.

And we need support. I don't know what the effectiveness of online support is, but I do know that talking to people, eating with them, shopping with them, surfing the Internet with them, sharing cooking tips with them, cooking for and with them, and making yourself available for sharing the emotional and social difficulties of a transition from using animals to using them less, does work. That's what I do, and it works, as in--people go vegan and stay vegan.

Thinking Critically About The Animals We Use can be printed on one 11 x 17 sheet and folded in half and isn't designed to make anyone into an activist. But it is designed to help its readers face their own rationales for continuing a behavior that they themselves probably don't agree with. Like part of the original, it traces the conversations I have over and over again, with good people who simply aren't educated about what's involved in the use of animals, or they are, yet they continue to not align their actions with their knowledge and what they believe to be right.

And that disconnect is deadly and reeks of injustice.

----

I thought about calling the pamphlet Thinking Critically About The Ways We Use Animals, but liked the current title because I wanted to bring attention to The Animals first. I did create a but of a grammatical issue, but I'm not sure if it's a distracting one. What do you think?

On Individuals and Thanksgiving

Yesterday, I was on my way to the Foster and Adoptive Parents Association, which has a "store" and allows those parents to "shop" for clothing, toys and baby gear at no cost to them. Basically, they give stuff away, unlike Goodwill and the Salvation Army and others, who charge for their donated goods.

Everyone was slamming on their brakes on a major road and as I crept around the mayhem I saw the reason: a turtle of some kind. His shell was probably ten inches in diameter, and when I looked in my rearview mirror as I was about to pull over I saw several other cars pulling over. Four people emerged from the cars and were practically tripping over one another trying to get to the turtle to carry him to safety.

One small act of kindness perhaps, but for the turtle a life-saving one.

I wondered what these people would be doing for Thanksgiving. All of the brakes and the hazard lights and the cursing and the near collisions and the concern for this one individual. The inconvenience, the worry about the creature, the relief when he was, at least for that moment, free from harm. I couldn't help but juxtapose all of that care for one individual of another species with the individual who would be on the table today. Dead.

And not just dead, mind you, but cause for celebration.

Yet the turtle . . . cause for concern about his welfare. Concern about his life. Kindness. A hope for his life to continue. Even putting yourself in harm's way to help him.

Turtle . . . turkey.

 

 

On Jeff Corwin's 100 HEARTBEATS

When I was asked if I wanted to read Jeff Corwin's 100 HEARTBEATS (Rodale 2009) I was ambivalent. I know he's a "conservationist," therefore I know he will advocate for "managing" the "resources" that are sentient nonhumans. And managing means killing them, breeding them, and otherwise fiddling with their individuals in the hope of altering their populations. This is all very unveganly, but I went for it nevertheless.

Here's the good news: This is a very readable explanation of how animals in the Hundred Heartbeat Club (there are 100 or fewer individuals in the wild today) got to be in the club. It's a great primer on extinction and conservation for the layperson. It has entertaining stories, includes animals people care about because they like them (and also addresses that concept), and it describes how the numbers of various species decreased to the point of being classified as "endangered" or worse. In the majority of cases, it is humans who are to blame for the plunging numbers of animals, and Corwin is very clear about the extent to which we have destroyed the world around us.

The bad news is that Corwin writes that "every heartbeat matters" (xv) largely because "When we put the survival of the natural world in jeopardy, we simultaneously put our survival in jeopardy" (xv, and italics his). This is irksome, as the premise is that we need to save the animals (and which ones is an interesting discussion) because we will suffer if they are gone. And of course that premise is only possible because the animals (and everything else on the planet) are our "resources." But again, he's a conservationist, so none of this is a surprise. Also, after detailing how we're responsible for much of this current, depressing state, there is no loud call for us to alter our behavior.

The animals featured include ones whose predicaments are due to:

• climate change (polar bears);
• poisoning (California condor-lead in shot that killed the individuals who became carrion, American bald eagle-DDT);
• human encroachment/loss of habitat due to our activities, such as logging, mining, drilling and deforestation (Florida panther, Iberian lynx, orangutan);
• pollution (anyone trying to survive in the Yangtze river in China);
• disease (native birds in Hawaii, Tasmanian devils);
• poaching (Bengal tiger);
• or a combination thereof.

It's important to note that Corwin doesn't think he has all of the answers. He does believe we have an obligation to intervene because we are responsible for the current plight of the rest of "the natural world," which we evidently don't belong to. But he constantly wonders where and when and how much we should intervene, which I suppose is laudable.

The part that I definitely believe is laudable, and I can get behind, is in the final chapter: "Exploited to Extinction."

"What does the future hold for the members of the Hundred Heartbeat Club? That depends largely on us, our priorities, and our allocation of resources. Consider this: Every month, it takes $12 billion to fund America's involvement in the Iraq War. For only $450,000, we could buy almost all of the habitat neded to protect Ecuador's remaining frogs.

. . . .

Chances are that in any given community, there's a river that needs to be cleaned up. Or an animal that could use the aid of human intervention, such as the Florida panther, which has benefited from the culverts built to help it safely cross highways (221).

. . . .

Consider all the steps it took to create our massive carbon footprint. Now we just need to step in a different direction. We can--and we must" (222).

Those are the final words of the book. What was not considered in the previous 221 pages is that we can indeed step in a different direction today. We can stop using animals and "allocate resources" to educate Homo sapiens worldwide to change their relationship to the animals around them. Corwin tells the story of the Maasai of Kenya, whose culture involved disdain for and slaughter of lions. Through a program of education "built on mutual respect and interest" (198), the Maasai have now become guardians and caretakers of the lions, whose numbers have increased since the program's inception. In other words, we can change the way we think about animals. Cultural attitudes about animals can change.

In the perfect world, in a different book not written by a conservationist, the author would have left us with myriad ways we can decrease our carbon footprint and help the animals, beginning with ceasing our use of animals. But for now, we have a book that describes how we got here and what we might do . . . if we believe it's our right to do what we want with the lives of other animals.

 

 

 

To My Friends at Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving 2010 will be Baby Sky's first, and our opportunity to introduce her to the notion that our family doesn't eat animals (not to mention that other historical story we'll be correcting). There will be no greyhound corpse on our table, no turkey corpse and no pig corpse. There will be no pies or cakes that were made with milk that was meant for calves, or eggs that represent dead male chicks, forced molting, debeaking and other mutilations and cruelties.

When in the position of having the choice, which so far is always, I'd rather choose not to have someone killed for me. Perfectly delicious and nutritious plant-based food is available for anyone who wants to make that choice this Thanksgiving. I think the biggest obstacle is that most people don't see themselves as choosing to hurt anyone. They would say they love animals. Yet their actions, at least three times a day (and when they put their clothes and shoes on) tell a different story.

The two objections to a vegan Thanksgiving that I hear most often are: It's our tradition and Because it tastes good.

It's our tradition.

Traditions are decided upon. They are consciously, intentionally repeated. And new ones can be created at any moment. I choose to opt out of traditions that cause harm and are the direct result of the exploitation and commodification of beings just like Charles, but who look a little different. And I want Baby Sky to grow up in a home where there is just as much respect for chickens and calves and fishes as there is for greyhounds and cats and people. Of course, the world outside of our home tells a different story. But we can bring our story to that world.

Because it tastes good.

This is a tough one to even dignify as I think it's the most offensive reason for killing someone. In addition, I've never heard it said in anything but a sarcastic or otherwise mocking tone. The conclusion I'm left making is that the person saying "Because it tastes good" thinks that it's funny that a sentient being was raped (in the case of cows), mutilated (chickens, pigs and others) and slaughtered (everyone) because people find them tasty. The other possible explanation is that these people do indeed feel uncomfortable that Because it tastes good is their honest answer. I think that's the case much of the time, but the conversation is too painful and causes so much cognitive dissonance, and sarcasm is the quickest way out of the situation.

Though this Thanksgiving is special for us, it is the opportunity for anybody to decide that this Thanksgiving will be a kindler, gentler, more compassionate one. This Thanksgiving can be a just one: Justice for beings who are like us in the most important of ways. Justice for beings who look very different from us but who, like us, experience pleasure and pain, boredom and frustration. Justice for beings who want to live their lives--who should be able to lives their lives--without being taken from their families and their homes to become a meal. Justice for beings whom we create for the sole purpose of killing, but who nevertheless want to live. We can do many horrible things to them and we can take a lot away from them. But they always have their desire to not be killed.

All it takes is a decision. Decide to choose justice over whatever reason you give for using other animals as food. It might not be easy, given family and societal pressures, but fortunately there are scores of books and websites and podcasts and videos and online vendors--and even restaurants--that can provide guidance (and delicious food). It's never been so easy to have a Just Thanksgiving.

On HIGH IN THE CLOUDS

HIGH IN THE CLOUDS, by Paul McCartney, Geoff Dunbar and Philip Ardagh is supposed to be for Grades 2-4, but its themes, vocabulary and syntax are more advanced.

From Barnes and Noble:

"Wirral the Squirrel is homeless. The evil Gretsch have [sic] destroyed his wilderness home, trampling it in their relentless drive to expand. But Wirral does not despair; he vows to find a new home in Animalia, the fabled land where all creatures are said to live together in freedom. What begins as a personal quest becomes a mission as the brave little acorn-cracker realizes that animals are enslaved everywhere. Sir Paul McCartney, children's book author Geoff Dunbar, and children's book artist Philip Ardagh have created a beautiful book with an ever-timely message."

There's a lot missing in that description, such as the surprising death of Wirral's mother, Sugartail, at the beginning of the book. But if I were to be critical about the narrative of the book, I'd say there's a lot missing there too. For instance, Sugartail's death happens so suddenly and without a lot of explanation. Their home was evidently slated to be bulldozed, and then it was. Done. Me and my doctorate had to reread sections of the book because I kept thinking I overlooked the context or backstory of a handful of details. I even started from the beginning three times because I thought I missed a page or a paragraph.

With that said, the illustrations are wonderful, and the general theme of this adventure story is laudable. This reader would have liked to have seen the story and the characters developed more (and with fewer stereotypes), however. I understand this is a children's book, but particularly if you're trying to be a voice for animals, it would behoove you to make connections that might be missed otherwise. For instance, the animals are enslaved. They are forced to work in factories owned by a hideous woman, Gretsch. Wirral's quest is to free the animals and take them to Animalia, where all animals (and insects, as a flea from a flea circus is a major character, and beetles are mentioned) already are free. But there's no connection made--or no explanation--for how we use animals. Animals are indeed enslaved, but in real life they're not making widgets in factories. And when you read the reviews on various sites that sell the book, there is no mention of how we enslave animals. I don't get a sense that readers really understand the message.

But that's because the message isn't developed. I'm giving the book a vegan/animal rights message because that's my lens. Objectively, however, though the use message is there, believe it or not, you can talk about enslaving animals and still not present a clear vegan message. Or any vegan message. There is no mention of food or skin or zoos. The factory is supposed to be a proxy for all of that, but it doesn't work for me. I wish it did, but it doesn't.

Finally, there's a place over yonder where animals are free (Animalia). And the animals all go there after they are set free. They don't stay where they are (Megatropolis), I think, because humans are destroying it and building cities with evil factories that enslave animals. So there's a pro-environment/anti-development message in the book that, for me, is clearer than the animal rights message. We are destroying their homes, but there's a place where they are free from us. That's a nice message for kids, I guess.

The problem is there isn't really a place they can all go to be free from us, which is why I find the ending strange. I know the ending would have to be a happy one, but rather than mass exodus, how about the animals taking their homes back or . . . something.

I suppose telling young children the details of the enslavement of sentient nonhumans isn't an easy task, and any entree to the discussion is helpful. This book is indeed a way of beginning to discuss what enslavement is and all of the ways we use animals, and for that reason I'll read it to Baby Sky. But probably with plenty of commentary throughout.

 

On Veganism and Adoption

I've been under the radar for a bit, anxiously awaiting the adoption finalization of Baby Sky. But now that she's officially ours, I feel like I can write about a topic that means a lot to me without the fear that my words might somehow jeopardize the adoption.

As someone who was very, very late to the wanting-a-baby party (my desire didn't kick in until almost 40), and who did attempt to have a biological child, I'm particularly qualified to say what I'm about to say.

Marriage/coupleship is composed of two individuals. Adding a child to that partnership is an idea that is so important that I tend to say that people who know that they want kids shouldn't even date people who know that they don't want kids. Such pairings usually don't end well, though they do have a predictable trajectory, with each person either "waiting out" the other person or actively trying to change their mind . . . to no avail.

 

I don't, for the record, consider this issue analogous to omnivores dating vegans, as my husband went vegan overnight three years ago this month. I think vegans dating omnivores is a great idea as it's an opportunity to support someone in a way that you really can't support anyone else. I do the shopping, cooking and baking, and I find vegan accessories for him to choose from. When he travels or goes out with clients, I make suggestions or arrangements for him. This isn't to say he couldn't do all of that himself; it's easy for me and doesn't take much effort or time. The point is that I'm here, paying attention and anticipating needs. In three years my husband hasn't had one episode of backsliding or even the inclination. I can't say what would've happened if his veganization wasn't made so easy--all I can say for certain is that it was successful.

My New Favorite RSA Animate

On the Keeping of Endangered Fishes

An Animal Person reader wrote me with the following question:

There are many species of cichlids in Lake Victoria that are on the verge of extinction, and most are hardy and small enough to be kept in an aquarium. There are conservation efforts to save these species by individual aquarists, who are keeping and breeding them in hopes that they can someday be reintroduced into the lake. Assuming that the fish are kept in a large aquarium that mimics their natural habitat, and that the keeper treats the fish as family (as they would a rescued dog, cat, rabbit, etc.), would you see keeping these fish confined in an aquarium as a rescue effort or as a selfish act by humans that interferes with Nature?

I think my feeling on it is that it's more of a rescue effort; that we humans made the mess that endangered the species in the first place, so we should do our best to fix it. As I share a home with rescued cats and rabbits, I can't help but think that it's better for them to live their lives cared for and loved than to be put to death in a shelter somewhere due to irresponsible overbreeding, even if they are now confined to the house.

Of course that also brings up the dilemma of feeding cats and fish, who are omnivores and actually need to eat some meat in order to be healthy. I adopted the cats before I became a vegan, and although I don't like the fact that they eat other animals, it is my responsibility to keep them healthy.

(I intend to stick with rescuing rabbits from now on.) I have always loved fish, and I'd like to be able to keep a species from becoming extinct, but is this an appropriate activity for a vegan? I'd really like to get your opinion on this.

For me, part if this goes to the question of whether or not we should breed or otherwise try to restore endangered species, in general. The answer to that question could, for some, be dependent upon whether the endangering is our doing.

The analogy to mammals we rescue is interesting; it's a good point. Is keeping animals because they're endangered any different from keeping them because they are homeless? 

Can we ever meet the needs of fishes by keeping them in our homes?

What do you think?

--Photo of 72 gallon african cichlid tank from Flickr Erica_Marshall's photostream.

On Betraying Your Family

Yesterday, in the comments of An Affront to the Idea of Family, Brian wrote:

I understand your concern for those cows that were beat by that man and the unfortunate death of all the cows that died in the snow storm. As a dairy farmer I even had a hard time reading that. I love my cows and I don't anyone touch them in that manner. I am always working for the best environment and the most comfortable situation for my cows, who I consider part of my family. You say that "Family Farms do not exist and that they don't care about their animals." That is not true. I work with my mom and dad twenty other caring individuals to provide the best, most comfortable place for my family members, all 2000 of them. Please talk to us before you start to accuse us of not taking care of our cows, and making what one farmer who is not right the truth of everyone else.

It's a relief to hear that Brian disapproves. However, let's deconstruct his language:

• "I love my cows . . . "
• "who I consider part of my family."
• His family members total 2000.
• "Please talk to us before you start to accuse of of not taking care of our cows."

How, I would ask Brian, does he define "love?" Does it include ownership of individuals ("our cows")? Does he own the human members of his "family?" Does he control their reproduction, their food, when they eat, where they live, and how and when they will die? Does he really equate the cows with the human sentients in his family? Can the humans come and go as they please? Are the humans providing Brian with something he is profiting from (maybe hard work, he'd say), and when they stop he will kill them?

What does it mean to love and take care of someone and consider them part of your family? What does that look like?

Allow me to suggest an answer: It looks like Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary or Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary or Maple Farm Sanctuary or another place where animals are rescued from certain betrayal and death, often under the guise of "love" and "family."

For more on the "love" animal farmers have for "their" animals, see also On Compassionate Carnivores and Betrayal.

More Clarity About Family Farms

In "Move to Limit 'Factory Farms' Gains Momentum" in today's New York Times, we learn that farmers in Ohio have agreed to phase out gestation crates within 15 years and veal crates by 2017. I won't get into whether I find that to be a victory. Here are the sentences that I want to bring attention to:

The family of Irv Bell, 64, has been growing hogs in Zanesville, Ohio, since the 19th century. Where males and females were once put into a pen to mate, sows are now inseminated artificially and most are kept through their pregnancy in a 2-by-7-foot crate, in which they can lie down but not turn.

“I work with the hogs every day, and I don’t think there is anything wrong with gestation crates,” he said.

This adds another layer to yesterday's discussion about family. Irv Bell's farm is a family farm. It's also a factory farm. The marketing of an operation of breeding and slaughtering sentient nonhumans as a family farm (here, Bell straddles the line) is supposed to trigger some kind of compassion for the humans. Whatever judgments you might have about what Bell does and whether or not he finds anything wrong with what he does, you should put them aside. After all, he's part of a family business.

The important word in the phrase "family farm" is the same word that is important in "factory farm." It's the one that matters most to beings who simply want to live their lives without betrayal, disrespect, enslavement and slaughter. And all of those are implicit in "farm." It doesn't matter what word you put before it.

An Affront to the Idea of Family

I'm not one of those people who thinks family is composed of only humans or humans who are biologically related. That's one of the reasons adopting wasn't a stretch for me at all mentally.

The idea of family is currently being used by the dairy industry in a series of commercials with the tag line: "99% of dairy farms are family owned." You see midwestern folk in overalls with tired faces. There are children. Girls. They are proud to be dairy farmers.

Of course, you're supposed to hop onto the following train of thought: These are good people. Good Americans, just trying to keep their families together and eke out a living in these tough times. Buying dairy products supports them.

It doesn't matter to me, but let's for a moment examine the 99%. Ninety-nine percent of dairy farms are family owned. That doesn't mean that 99% of dairy products are from family farms, as the average number of cows on each family farm is just over 100. It's not necessarily the case that buying dairy likely supports one of the families that comprise the 99%.

What you're supposed to be buying into is the idea that if a family owns a farm it is somehow qualitatively different (and of course, better) than a farm that isn't family owned. Families, so the commercials go, don't engage in untoward aspects of animal husbandry that might hurt the cows. The cows are walking around green fields, similar to those in the criminally misleading California cows commercials. The cows' tails swing in the breeze. The family isn't wealthy and they're not sophisticated, but they're proud of what they do. And they certainly wouldn't hurt anybody; that's what those big factory farms do that aren't owned by families.

There's an assumption that a unit known as a family is better to deal with than, say, a person who is merely a member of a family and who wears a suit and drives a fancy car rather than a tractor. When it's put that way, doesn't it sound silly? Families are just as capable of horrendous policies toward animals as anyone else. Their goal is to make a profit from the breeding and slaughter of animals. Period. Just ask former cattle rancher Howard Lyman, who is now a vegan and animal rights activist.

My daughter has given me an extra layer of sensitivity regarding the treatment of female animals. As a woman, I always found it offensive that females are forcibly bred, have their children taken away from them and are milked within an inch of their lives. But now I think about all of that being done to my daughter and I must say the disgust I experience at the notion that a family farm is somehow a wholesome place is a bit overwhelming.

One of the most important things about Deb's blog, Invisible Voices, is that many of the fortunate animals who end up at Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary, where she volunteers, came from family farms.

Yes, factory farms are the stuff of nightmares for nonhuman animals. But so are family farms. I don't care about scale. If someone owns me, forcibly breeds me, takes my kids and ends my life, it's a living hell for me.

--Photo from publicenergy's Flickr photostream.

Please Share "Silencing the Lambs"

Thanks, once again, to James LaVeck and Jenny Stein of Tribe of Heart for kindly and carefully bringing attention to what should be a stunningly-obvious moment of hypocrisy by groups that exist to advocate for and save animals.

I understand how someone who supports the Humane Society of the United States might think an event celebrating "humane" farms would be a good idea, as HSUS isn't an animal rights organization. What I fail to understand, however, is how advocates whose life's work revolves around justice for animals we use for food would ever--ever--sponsor or benefit from an event that puts those same animals on a plate.