Violent and Vile Vegans and Vegetarians

 Judgemental:

Adj, of or denoting an attitude in which judgments about other people's conduct are made.

Thesaurus entry:

condemnatory, self-righteous, censorious, pharisaic, critical

The critical question in an Omnivores Dilemma was, “What to eat?” It is not an easy question to answer and Pollan himself does not completely answer it. He follows up nicely in his next book, “In defense of Food” with some good answers. Pollan spent years of his life, researching thoroughly, writing brilliantly, and his best conclusion was a tentative, “eat food, mostly plants, not too much”. So how is it that novices with far less acumen than he feel justified in spouting off about how evil meat eaters are? Oh, can you tell? I just got accosted, again, by ANOTHER vegetarian. It begs all kinds of questions, some of which follow from the Omnivores Dilemma. What to eat? What to do about it? How to respond to inflammatory, personal attacks about dietary choices? And how does one address the judgmental among us, or attempt to correct for their behavior? And is it even possible if one wants to avoid hypocrisy? I want so desperately to judge the judgmental! But I just end up judging myself.

Let’s try and avoid that and start here with something that we can all agree on: everyone must eat something. Oh, wait, there are breatharians, so I guess we can’t ALL agree on that. But they are few in number (for obvious reasons) and they are not long for this world (for obvious reasons). Oooh, that was a little judgmental I think. So, let me reframe that. Let us assume for the time being that breatharianism is a valid position to take. But let us also consider that, as breatharians say, one must attain a high level of transformed consciousness in order to be nourished by light. Let us assume that most of us are not currently nor will we ever likely reach that level of spiritual exaltation.  There, was that nice enough? All my breatharian readers, be sure to comment.

Ok, so MOST OF US need to eat. But what else can we agree on? Perhaps we can agree that there are mountains of research and opinion on the question of what to eat from a health perspective, from an environmental perspective, political and ethical. There is so much out there that not even Michael Pollan himself can synthesize it all so can we all agree that not one of us reading this blog is a true expert on the issue? Can we all have a little humility around this subject? We can agree then, I hope, that if we all were willing to look at the available studies, that we would find there is little agreement among them. There are convincing arguments that animal protein is the problem (convincing to some, but not to those who don’t buy correlations as causation… Doh! There I go again!). Others argue fat is the problem (the lipid hypothesis).  There are arguments that grain is a problem (for the environment there can be little doubt, but for our health? Harder to be sure). I was recently alarmed to find out that rice, a grain I formally thought was safe, has arsenic in it. It becomes a concern when rice ingredients are concentrated into a processed food product (like the gluten free ones I buy for my kids all the time). Then just the other night I met a girl who reported, with fear in her eyes as she looked at the crackers on the table, that she was deathly allergic to rice. Geez, I said. I had no idea! Her example raises some interesting questions and underlines the fact that we just don't know everything there is to know about this. 

Meanwhile most of the health studies don’t control for the multitude of confounding factors, such as exercise, class, race, zip code. And few if any studies look at more than one set of criteria at a time (i.e. environmental health AND personal health). Look, this is not an easy thing to make a decision about! Can we agree on that?

Can we also agree—those of us who even care to look at such things—that our food supply is seriously messed up? Can we agree that there are too many fossil fuel inputs for our food, no matter what we eat? It takes too much fuel to get organic vegetables to market, because they are still grown in a capitalist, globalized world-system that prizes forms of efficiency (mono cropping, poor worker conditions) which ultimately are eating away at the planet. But I got news for you. An organic banana from Costa Rica gets to my belly with less fossil fuel debt than an apple grown 100 miles from here. Yeah, I know. Pretty amazing! It takes more gallons of water to get a CAFO cow to market than I use in a year of showering! (Lets just not joke about how often I shower! You KNOW what I am driving at!) But that doesn’t apply to a grass fed cow, much less one that is raised through rotational grazing that science can show is actually GOOD for the environment. But I digress. These are things that might inspire argument.

Instead of arguing can we agree that the choices that people make about food are deeply personal? Can we agree that no one deserves to have their choice berated? Can we agree that berating people about anything is an ineffective form of social change? Can we agree that to berate someone, about anything, is a form of domination, or as Pierre Bourdieu would say, “symbolic violence”? Uh Oh! I just came DANGEROUSLY close to accusing that vegan I heard from this morning of beating me up with her words! Boy this whole hypocrisy stuff is really challenging!

The final thing I hope that we can all agree on is that no matter which particular diet is better for your body, better for the environment, or better for your soul, worrying about our diet may not be the most important thing that we could all be focusing on right now. You might say we have bigger fish to fry. Oh, wait. That came out wrong! The point is, that if the mounting, interlocking and cascading problems of peak oil, peak soil, peak gas, peak fisheries, peak water (this, by the way, may be the biggest peak to surmount) and peak warming are as bad as even the most sanguine of scientists say they are, within the lifetime of everyone my age or younger, we are going to have to really do something about our food supply.

Nobody can actually claim beyond scrutiny that one form of eating is remarkably better for you than another. That is so long as we rule out highly fatty, highly sugary, highly salty, highly processed food. So long as we agree that food means something that grows in the ground or directly eats something that grows in the ground, then there isn’t much difference in the quality of life you will receive, so long as you don’t eat too much of it. I mean, there isn’t a known diet that reliably kills you at 35, while another known diet reliably lets you live to 100. We are arguing around the margins here. We are quibbling about a few years lived or lost, a few pounds gained or shed, and pretending that food is the thing that makes us happy. So why do we choose to argue about about these details?

Instead of arguing I would suggest that we focus on the the following. If you are a meat eater please be advised that we won’t be able to raise meat the way we do today for much longer (and I’m talking about corporate farmed CAFO type meat). The ecological system will not bear it. We raise meat the way we do by raising grain the way we do, and in only a little while longer now that practice will come to a dwindling halt as well. That means you, you carb hungry vegetarian. We cannot continue to grow most of our Nation’s tomatoes, strawberries and grapes (not to mention dozens of other fruits and veggies) in California and ship them all over the world and expect that system to work in perpetuity. California is headed for another dust bowl as we extract and export it’s soil as fast as we can, truck it away in the form of avocados using hydrocarbon fuels to far flung corners of the globe. Attention all vegans! Your food supply is in danger! Shit. I love avocados. What am I gonna do!? Can we all agree that avocados rule!?

Ok, so I might have to give up avocados, and bananas for that matter. But instead of arguing, can we all agree that what we need to be doing in this country is growing more local food? Can we agree that with only 2% of the population even knowing how to farm (and most of them are over 50) we need to train-up a whole generation-plowshare? We can all agree that we need more carrots, and broccoli, and artichokes, whether we eat meat or not. Can we not? And since I know that you ovo-lacto vegetarians want to eat omelets, and you vegans are going to need fertilizer for your beats and beans, can we agree that we are going to have to have a few chickens? A few rabbits? A few goats? And since we are going to have those (and horses for transportation if you are REALLY a doom-and-gloomer) can you ethical vegetarians lay off while we meat eaters make use of those animals at the end of their productive life? If food is in short supply then let's not let that stored solar power go to waste, ok? And besides, if it gets really bad, if we are totally dependent on each other at the local level, if there are no more trucks bringing cauliflower from California, if your tomatoes get tainted, if drought demolishes your daikons, if a poacher pillages your potatoes or vile, vegan, vagabonds villainously vanish your vittles… if you are hungry and have no other choices, I’ll save some elk jerky for you. Hey, at least it’s raw!

Antelope Run

It was the driest year on record in the great Southwest. Texas had mostly burned up that year, Governor Perry declaring a State of Emergency. New Mexico was not much better, only recently having put down the largest forest fire in State history, one that started in the game unit in which I would be hunting for elk in three short weeks. I pondered all this as I stood, positioned in the center of the Two Rivers Damn near Roswell. I was peeing like a school boy and counting the seconds it took the drops to splat against the rocks below. True, in this blistering heat the water and nitrogen would evaporate but the phosphorous and potassium should make their way to the hungry plants down there, if it ever rained again. I do what I can for nature.

I was standing there contemplating the drought because I had found a dead antelope that day. I thought about bringing a piece of him home and having somebody ask me, “did you kill it?” “No”, I would say, “at least not directly.” “Whatdaya mean by that?” they would say. And I would say, “well, not directly because I’ve been contributing to global warming all my life. Global warming causes more severe droughts. When I found this poor withered goat it was the worst drought on record, and I’m fairly certain he died of thirst. Actually, I guess we all killed him.”

And that would make a good introduction to when they asked me, “is it true what they say, that you won a foot race with an antelope?” “Won?” I’d say. “I couldn’t say I won it, but I run it.” And it’s true. At 42 years of age, having no special credentials that would make it likely—such as my own wildlife show or extreme sports special—I had the audacity to run a foot race with an antelope,  two antelope in fact. Considering the drought and how hard I made those antelope run that day, I might have inadvertently killed them too. But I never hit one with an arrow. That’s for sure. Here’s how it happened.

I had tracked the herd now for one very long, hot August day. I had followed them in circles. I would sneak up on them, they would bust me and run off to a place I had been busted by them an hour ago. I would sneak up on them again and the whole process would repeat. There was almost no place to hide out there. Even the rocks were small. The trees were non-existent. Spindly cholla cactus were often the best “cover” I had. No self-respecting cougar would even try what I was doing which is precisely why the antelope have fared so well over time. At last I came to a point where I had spent an hour behind the only juniper bush in that square mile, the only one big enough to hide a man at least. I had managed to get within 80 yards of the herd, about 40 yards too many. As I abandoned the bush in an effort to close the distance, dragging my body over rocks and cactus, I was once again spotted. At first I only inspired curiosity as a doe approached my bush to better evaluate the danger I posed. Proving once again that antelope are smarter than me, she was able to sneak up… on me! Thinking they would go to the South around the bush they instead came from the North. They passed within 10 yards of me. I think I could see the smirks on their faces.  I had once again lost my opportunity to draw and shoot.

But this time was different. They did not circle back to where I had previously hunted them. Despite my best efforts, I had driven the herd out of our usual playground and instead they were now heading toward the border of the public land I was constrained to hunt on. I was frustrated, hot, tired, smelly and utterly unable to stay hidden from these creatures. If they escaped to private land it may take me days to find another herd, if at all. My options were limited. While I stood still, wondering what an intelligent hunter would do, they were making their way to freedom. I stopped thinking and just followed them.

I tried to stay hidden by a hill for a short while but as I came out on the other side of the hill, there they were, already in a gallop and losing me quickly. I picked up speed trying to close the distance again. The main part of the herd was directly in front of me, running away. Just then two antelope came out from behind the hill, also following the herd. They were to my left, and only about 100 yards away. They were trotting until they saw me. Then they picked up speed. So I picked up speed too. By this time I was going at a pretty good jog myself. I was keeping pace with them. So they sped up some more. Oddly, our paths were converging now, as we all attempted to catch up with their herd which was hundreds of yards yet in front of us.

A bizarre notion crossed my mind as I thought back on the antelope behavior I had observed thus far. These antelope had not put the kind of distance between themselves and me that a deer, much less an elk would have done. They often ran less than a half mile, part way up the slope of the next hill to a place where they could keep an eye on me. I wasn’t much of a threat and I hadn’t yet succeeded in completely spooking the herd. Maybe antelope don’t like to run long distances. Maybe these antelope are tired and thirsty because I have been chasing them all day and they had not been near water (I had a gallon bottle on my back which was now almost empty). Maybe these two particular antelope were really tired, or lame. They were the stragglers after all. Maybe, just maybe, I can out run them. 

There was only one problem with my theory that I will now stop to explain. I am a 42 year old man. I am in pretty good shape if you compare me to your average American who works a desk job. That’s not much of a comparison. Although I enjoy hiking from time to time and even exercise now and again, I am not, and never have been, a runner. I twisted my back in the 7^th grade track-and-field long jump event. That led to a doctor’s excuse to stay out of PE for the remainder of my secondary education. I thought for many years that I was incapable of running and so never even tried. In this particular case I was wearing hiking boots, not running shoes. The terrain was level but rocky and rough. I was carrying about 20 pounds of gear on my back, plus carrying my seven pound bow in one hand. I had been carrying this bow all day. I would periodically switch arms to rest each shoulder but now both shoulders were sore and I had already put 7 miles on my feet in 100 degree weather. Obviously I was not constrained by a lack of belief in myself at that moment. I took off at a dead run.

Naturally, so did they. Turns out they weren’t lame, or particularly lazy. They had been bluffing, perhaps, but now they were looking like the tryouts for the antelope Olympics. So what. I ran harder. And each time I did, they matched and exceeded my speed. We were still converging toward the main herd. I could see their muscles flexing and rippling under their light coats of fur, dust kicking up under their feet, their true athleticism shining through. I sensed no fear in this contest on either our parts. It really felt like they just wanted to beat me, to show me who was king of the sage brush. And then it dawned on me. Oh, my, God! I am racing against antelope! I am now less than 100 feet from them even as we converge our trajectories and they pull ahead. Hunting was no longer in my mind, only an adolescent desire to beat them at their own game. I had traded my goal of killing and eating one of these beasts for the pleasure of sport alone. I had become a sportsman, but not in the crude sense of the word, the obfuscating, commercial attempt to whitewash the act of killing as a mere game we play, with animals as the only losers. But I was playing a different game. I was on a level playing field. If anything, they had the advantage. I was not about to take a running shot with my bow, and at some level they knew that, because they never diverged from our converging path. They knew they could beat me if they just poured on a little more steam, something they appeared to have in abundant reserve.

And so they did. After a few more minutes I relented, but not before the stragglers had rejoined the herd and the herd had shifted course away from the property boundary. I can’t take credit for their shift but I wonder if they hadn’t decided that this was fun and that they wanted to keep competing against me. Perhaps they hoped I would keep chasing them. The herd turned to the North and slowed down to a walk some 500 feet in front of me. I crossed their path behind them at a breathless walk, circling to the West. They veered North East. I continued to pressure them until they had taken a wide circle, more than a mile long, that led them all the way back to the fence, just a short distance from where I had first encountered them. Now they were out in the flat open, and I knew they would never let me closer if I tried tonight. The sun was waning and I decided to stop hunting for the day and see what morning would bring. “See you tomorrow” I called out, and imagined the Wiley Coyote punching his time card at the end of a hard day of blowing himself up.

My heels were raw, blisters popped, and no amount of moleskin and band-aids would fix it. Nonetheless I persisted. I hunted through the next morning, chasing the same group who had patiently waited for me to show up and punch my time clock. I got within 100 yards of them several times but now they were getting spooked. By noon I had lost their trail and I abandoned my hunt all together. Going home empty handed again, I moaned. But upon further reflection it was clear that I was not empty handed at all. I asked myself, “How many people do you know that have run a foot race with any wild animal, much less an antelope?” None, I thought. Not a one. I’m sure I’m not the only person to ever do it, or the only American or the only middle-class, white man (well, maybe the only middle-class, white, American anthropologist). But it was a rare thing indeed. I didn’t have a trophy to hang on my wall, to prove that I had bested a beast in an unfair fight, but I had something much more valuable; another great hunting story to tell.

Date line 2030

As is well known, peak oil was declared to have occurred somewhere between 2006 and 2010. By 2013 spot shortages were common, by 2015, major disruptions began to ratchet up. Due to the extreme volatility of fuel prices during this period, however, when finances allowed, consumers in every major industrial country were still buying cars. Short sighted planning and oil industry propaganda about new petroleum developments that never bore out, resulted in periods of low gas prices and frenzies of car buying. Now of course, the streets are littered with abandoned cars.

Some analysts say that where we went wrong was when the European Union and the Obama administration finally agreed in 2013 to outlaw all biofuels. The oil industry campaign and their unwitting allies in the “environmental” movement had finally broken the soy and corn lobbies control over Washington energy policy and convinced the world that ANY use of a biofuel was tantamount to murder. Even bootleggers and moonshiners making fryer grease fuel, and backyard 99 proof gasohol were rounded up and imprisoned. Joshua Tickell, the biofuel activist, died during a prison hunger strike in early 2014, just as the first fuel shortages were tearing holes in the economy.

Shortly thereafter the fuel was rationed and a portion was reserved for emergency services only. It is my unfortunate duty today to report that the last gallon of fuel allocated for these purposes was pumped into an ambulance last week. Now municipalities all over the nation have declared that the remaining fuel is simply too expensive to buy for any purpose at all. President Chevron is trying to mandate purchasing it and demanding that cities issue even more bonds to cover the cost. City leaders respond that there is no one left (but oil executives) to buy the bonds and are standing fast against it. Congress is solidly against President Chevron and vice president Rockefeller and their administration’s broken promises.

A few cities can boast that they have small fleets of rickshaw ambulance services, but with food shortages being what they are, few people have the energy to run anyone to the hospital and their range is obviously limited. Horses are being used by police and horse drawn wagon fire brigades are being spotted again in some places like Portland. However, in the desert Southwest, where global warming has had some of the most extreme effects and water is scarce, there is not enough forage for the police horses, so bicycles are the preferred method. Parts for these, however, are getting harder to come by as they can only be salvaged from bikes already in the area.

China, on the other hand, ignored the international community as they were wont to do, and began in earnest an algae biodiesel research program in 2007. By 2015 they were in full production and chose to close their borders rather than share their secrets with the “ungrateful and imperialist west,” as their minister of energy (later to become the prime minister) said in 2016. Reports out of China are rare but some report that 21^st Century China looks a lot like 20^th century America. Others scarcely believe it.

Critics say that we needed the last of the cheap fossil fuels to make the transition and now, of course, it is too late. Some people’s greatest fear is that the Chinese, having completely bested the rest of the world, will exercise imperialist notions of their own. Some wish they would because it would be better than watching children die of malnutrition or infections that would have been easily treated only two short decades ago.

Nonetheless, there are reports of an underground resistance movement called the Biodieselistas that plans on overthrowing President Chevron. Armored vehicles formerly thought to be defunct have mysteriously disappeared from disheveled army bases. It is rumored that the resistance has well placed allies within congress. Leaflets have been circulated (on recycled paper of course) that warn of an impending upheaval leading to a better way of life. The typical story goes that the resistance has been painstakingly cultivating algae in disused swimming pools in out of the way places. They squeeze the dried algae with primitive tools turning the oils into biodiesel and the cellulose into ethanol and methanol using contraband stills. Others claim that they are disrespecting the dead, raiding mass graves which are of course ubiquitous, and turning their very bodies into fuel for their stolen war machines.

I for one hope the rumors are true and I don’t care how they make their fuel. For that matter I hope the Chinese invade. Perhaps they are in league with the resistance. Perhaps the resistance is our only hope against the Chinese. In any case, something has to change and change soon. VIVA LA RESISTIANCE!