Drawing the Moral Line

Lorenzo Gaertner
Sep 6, 2018 · 5 min read

Part of me would have preferred to remain ignorant, such was the weight of the reality confronting me. What went on behind those walls was not in my interests to confront. I knew it wouldn’t be good. Acknowledging it was like crossing a threshold from which there was no turning back, like emerging from a cavern into sunlight that was as harsh and blinding as it was clarifying. Once I knew, I couldn’t un-know — carrying on as I did before would therefore no longer be possible.

I gave up eating meat and dairy because I realised that my actions did not match my ideal of myself as an animal lover. With my money, I was supporting an industry that commits acts towards animals that I would not otherwise stand for, that if I saw happening out in the open I would rush over to stop. I was not alone in this. How many people wince at the thought of a dog being kicked yet eat the flesh of animals who’ve never known fresh air or sunlight? I know I did. It was an inconvenient realisation to come to, and one that presented me with a choice: either I withdraw my support for these industries by no longer buying their products, or reevaluate my entire code of ethics at the risk of discovering that I’m a hypocrite.

This is where I think people struggle, at least regarding the food they buy. People like me, who eat meat and dairy (or used to, in my case) but consider themselves against animal cruelty don’t want to bring their actions in line with their ethical beliefs because it might mean giving up a comfort they have enjoyed their entire life. On the other hand, they don’t want to lower their opinions of themselves to match their actions because it makes them feel bad. It’s a conundrum with a plausible enough solution: just don’t think about it.

Not thinking about it is how we are able to tell ourselves and others we’re against animal cruelty while contributing money to an industry that enslaves, tortures, and slaughters them. It’s how we can claim to be against human rights abuses and still shop at major clothing chains, knowing — but not consciously acknowledging — that the prices are so low because somebody, somewhere wasn’t being paid a fair wage. Not thinking about it is how we cope with a fucked up system that we’re too comfortable to want to change.

The fact that suffering is out of sight doesn’t help things. Most people have never seen inside an abattoir or a sweatshop, so it can be easy to dissociate that part of the supply chain from the cheap products we see in the shops. When you do try to bring it into the open by talking about it, people often don’t want to engage. It makes them uncomfortable, and I don’t blame them. But why is it that so few people seem to act on that unpleasantness and make a change? Why do so many people choose to block it out and carry on acting as before?

This is not about humans eating animals, by the way. Contrary to many vegans out there, I’m not against the eating of animals or animal products. It is in the very nature of life on Earth that beings sustain themselves by feeding off others. Animals are hunted and eaten by other animals, fish by other fish; some plants even deprive other, weaker plants of nutrition and take it all for themselves. But using this as an argument in defence of factory farming is wrong. A lion chasing down and killing an antelope is far more in line with the natural order of things than locking animals up in cramped, filthy cages in dark warehouses until it’s their turn to die. What’s more, I think that the suffering of animals has been amplified for questionable gains. The horrors that dairy cows endure, for example — being restrained, artificially inseminated (raped, effectively) and separated from their young, not to mention whatever violence they suffer at the hands of abattoir workers — seem to far outweigh our need to eat cheese and drink milk.

My problem is more this: food production has had to intensify in response to rapidly expanding populations over the last two centuries, coupled with increases in living standards which drives up the demand for animal products, particularly meat. This has in turn led to the development of more efficient ways of producing meat and dairy — factory farming. But efficiency comes at another kind of cost. The desire to drive down costs, to maximise efficiency, to undercut the competition leads us, I think, to abandon our moral instincts and justify things we otherwise wouldn’t stand for so long as they serve the ultimate end of enriching companies and keeping consumers satisfied. It’s a situation we build ourselves by demanding that everything be fast and cheap, forcing companies to look for ways to cut costs along the supply chain to recoup the lost revenue from selling products for way less than they should.

I don’t believe in not thinking about it. I believe that addressing uncomfortable truths is painful but ultimately leads to good being done. For me, as much as I didn’t want to, thinking about the abuses committed against animals in factory farms (and, of course, researching it for myself) led to positive action. Again, my aim here is not to stop the eating of meat and dairy outright. Rather, I withdraw my financial support for this kind of production, choosing to take it to its extreme and go vegan because, if nothing else, I love a challenge. I don’t expect others to do the same, or to follow in my footsteps without thinking. It’s why I don’t write ‘Go Vegan’ on the windows of my local McDonald’s.

What I would like is for people to not hide away from the facts. There’s an old Desmond Tutu quote that goes, “if you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” Not thinking about it for the sake of your own comfort is, to me, choosing to side with the oppressor in what is clearly a violation of the rights of living beings and a serious misuse of our power over them. Most of us would, I think, consider ourselves absolutely against all forms of suffering. Since most of us do not act accordingly, however, we need to ask ourselves how much suffering we can overlook, and for what gains. In other words, where do we draw our moral line?

Lorenzo Gaertner

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Meditations and rambles on whatever comes to mind.