Imagine that a new restaurant is opening up in town. This restaurant, like others, serves various kinds of meat. But there is something particularly unique about this one special restaurant. Instead of your traditional meat, it serves golden retriever, border collie, beagle, and pug meat. It is safe to assume that most of you are already repulsed by the idea of this new restaurant. In fact, I think many of you would demand that this restaurant be closed down immediately. It is interesting, though, how dog meat provokes repulsion, but pig meat does not. This here is a classic case of cognitive dissonance, or inconsistent patterns of thought. What, really, is the fundamental difference between eating dogs and pigs? There appears to be no difference at all. The only difference lies in our perceptions of the animals we consume.
Think about your dog for a moment. You probably love her very much and consider her a part of your family. Or what about the stray dog roaming the streets? You probably feel a sense of love for this stray, too. Herein lies the question: Would you ever consider consuming dogs? Maybe not your own since you have a special attachment, but what about the strays? Presumably, still, you would not. The reason you would not eat dogs is not based on a moral contract with their owner or anything else, but on a moral contract with the dog itself. Such a contract exists because we believe dogs possess intrinsic worth, a worth that should not be violated. The psychologist and vegan advocate, Melanie Joy, wrote:
“One reason we have such different perceptions of beef and dog meat is because we view cows and dogs very differently. The most frequent — and often the only — contact we have with cows is when we eat (or wear) them. But for a large number of people, our relationship with dogs is, in many ways, not terribly different from our relationship with people: We call them by their names. We say goodbye when we leave and greet them when we return. We share our beds with them. We play with them. We buy them gifts. We carry their pictures in our wallets. We take them to the doctor when they’re sick and spend thousands of dollars on their treatment. We bury them when they pass away. They make us laugh; they make us cry. They are helpers, our friends, our family. We love them. We love dogs and eat cows not because dogs and cows are fundamentally different — cows, like dogs, have feelings, preferences, and consciousness — but because our perception of them is different. And, consequently, our perception of their meat is different as well.”-Why We Love Dogs, Eat Pigs, and Wear Cows, pg. 3
As Joy illustrates, our perceptions of dogs are not very different than our perceptions of people. I have, in fact, known many people who sincerely consider their dog as their best friend or another one of their children. If someone were to inflict harm on their dog, they would seek immediate justice, much like they would if someone were to harm their friends or family. Even if you are not a vegetarian or vegan, if you are morally and logically consistent, there appears to be a glaring problem concerning our treatment of certain animals over others. Why are pigs on the plate of millions of Americans every morning? Why are dogs cherished with such pristine love and care? It seems that if we spent more time with pigs and other animals we consume, it may be immensely difficult to continue such consumption.
I think a lot of cognitive dissonance is found in those who call themselves “animal lovers.” If you love animals, but at the same time, shovel beef, pork, and chicken down your throat, then can you in any meaningful sense sustain your love for animals? I once knew a friend, Tim, who owned a pet pig. He loved this pig so much that he fell into a brief, but weighty depression when it passed away. But the most remarkable thing of all is that he consumed pork for breakfast—almost every morning. While I love the guy, and forgive me if you ever read this Tim, how can you love animals genuinely when you spare certain ones over others? This is analogous to saying, “I really love humanity. But, those Asian people, the hell with them!”
The philosopher Alastair Norcross asks us to imagine how we would react if we discovered our neighbor torturing puppies for fun. In his paper, “Puppies, Pigs, and People,” a man named Fred is on trial for animal abuse. After investigating Fred’s basement, the police discover that he has been keeping puppies in small wire cages. For twenty-six weeks, Fred mutilates the puppies without anesthesia and brutally ends their lives. In his defense, Fred explains that he injured his head during a car accident, which resulted in the inability to taste chocolate. Fred’s doctor informed him that his godiva gland was damaged beyond repair. This damage no longer allows him to secrete cocoamone, the hormone responsible for the taste of chocolate. Desperate to taste chocolate again, which is one of his favorite tastes, Fred discovers that puppies are the only animals that, when placed under extreme conditions of suffering, produce cocoamone. So, he sets up a lab in his basement and slaughters puppies daily and can now taste chocolate again successfully.
You more than likely take serious issue with Fred’s behavior. How could any sane person torture puppies for the taste of chocolate—let alone the taste of anything? Norcross says that Fred’s torturing of puppies for gustatory pleasure is not much different from those who eat factory farmed meat for gustatory pleasure. But it may be even worse in our case since we have various meat-tasting alternatives that do not entail the slaughter of sentient animals. On the other hand, Fred does not have these alternatives available to him. He can only taste chocolate through the means of puppies. If you think Fred’s actions are reprehensible, Norcross would agree. But he goes one step further in suggesting that we are all like Fred. According to Norcross, if we are consistent, we should stop eating meat altogether. A possible counterargument to Fred’s puppies is that he is directly killing the puppies, whereas those who eat meat are not. But what if Fred paid his neighbor to torture the puppies? It seems that it would be just as bad. While it is true that most people who consume meat are not directly killing the source, they are still contributing to the killing of animals by purchasing factory farmed meat. Therefore, the blood is still on the hands of many, even if they are not directly doing the killing themselves.
Until now, you are probably thinking: “Eric, are you a vegan?” Well, it may surprise you to know that I am not. I have tried briefly to sustain some sort of vegan or vegetarian diet, but failed miserably. I recognize, however, that our treatment of animals is almost certainly very wrong. Especially factory farming where animals suffer horrifically. There really does not seem to be a significant difference between Fred’s behavior and our own, honestly. We claim to love animals, but do we? We only love certain ones. Put bluntly, we do not love animals equally in any meaningful sense. We have an issue of perception. We consider certain animals, such as dogs as a part of our moral community, but why not the rest? If the rest were a part of our moral community, we would, indeed, give up a lot of special tastes. But if we are unwilling to at least entertain the idea of giving up special tastes, then it is unfair to condemn Fred. Like most of us, he is enjoying what tastes good. Anyhow, I think it is an exercise of good conscience to at least be aware of these issues, challenge yourself, and speak out against a vicious industry such as factory farming. Before I depart, I want to leave you with some staggering statistics.
“To be exact, US agribusinesses slaughter eleven billion animals per year (and that is not including the estimated 47 billion fish and other aquatic animals killed annually). That’s 23,234 animals per minute, or 387 animals per second. In the time it took you to read these three paragraphs, nearly 73,000 more animals were killed. Just to give you some perspective, the eleven billion US farmed animal population is nearly double the size of the worldwide human population. It’s 33 times larger than the population of Los Angeles. Another way to think about this number is that if we were to try to pack eleven billion people into a football field, it would take 121,000 football fields — an area about the size of Los Angeles — to hold them all. Or if eleven billion people stood in a line, the line would be 2.2 million miles long. That’s long enough to reach the moon and back, nearly five times. It’s also long enough to wrap around the entire circumference of the earth 83 times. And we’re only talking about the number of animals killed in a single year; consider how these numbers increase over five, ten, twenty years.”- Melanie Joy, Why We Love Dogs, Eat Pigs, and Wear Cows, pg. 26