(Update: Myers' article is now available in its entirety here.)
A record of the gourmet’s ongoing failure to think in moral terms, The
Omnivore’s Dilemma helps one to understand why no reformer ever gave a
damn about fine dining—or the family dinner table either.
In this month's The Atlantic article "Hard to Swallow" B.R. Myers superbly takes apart the arguments of so-called gourmands (known pre-Foodie revolution as "gluttons"), chiefly Michael Pollan, who see no moral conflict in eating meat:
But the idolatry of food cuts across class lines. This can be seen in the public’s toleration of a level of cruelty in meat production that it would tolerate nowhere else. If someone inflicts pain on an animal for visual, aural, or sexual gratification, we consider him a monster, and the law makes at least a token effort at punishment. If someone’s goal is to put the “product” in his mouth? Chacun à son goût.
I've often wondered why people who are outraged by such acts as those performed by Michael Vick and his friends think nothing at all of similar acts of torture inflicted on other animals.
Some people, usually those in the under-twenty age bracket, when they first realize what actually happens to cows, sheep, pigs and chickens before they are transformed to beef and pork, are moved, briefly, to become vegetarians. It lasts about a week or two, then societal pressure urges them to forget what they've learned and rejoin the meat-eating fold. (Dare I compare this sheeplike-mentality to herd-like thinking?)
I've often wondered why human society insists on conformity when it comes to meat eating. Those of us who eschew meat are often viewed with suspicion or outright scorn. We're accused of being moralistic, "preachy", self-righteous. Others greet the news that I'm a vegan with an abject, yet honest, apology: "I just love meat/cheese/chicken too much to give it up. Sorry!" A few just ignore it, the way Michael Pollan ignores any "ethical heartburn" he feels from eating once-thriving animals.
B.R. Myers explains why that is so, why people like Michael Pollan can utterly ignore some reality—scientific research which says that animals are capable of feeling pain and forming attachments, for instance—in deference to his own reality: he enjoys eating meat. No amount of moral soul searching is going to change that, not even a month spent as a disgruntled vegetarian.
But Michael's a true gourmand: factory farmed meat turns him squeamish. All those feces!
Then again, Pollan does not like what he sees; he senses that cows raised in such unnatural conditions cannot possibly taste good.
He must think organic animals come without a colon, and certainly a brain that allows them to feel the pain of the knife.
But it's statements like this, I suppose, that get us vegetarians, and B.R. Myers, whatever his food preference, labeled as preachy. Reason and morals are for wusses like Epicurus; real gourmands, on the other hand, are concerned about other things. Primarily, their mouth.
Feces, anyone?
(Thanks to Gina, who emailed this article. You must have an Atlantic subscription to read beyond the first page. While you're there, click on the sidebar article Nasty, Brutish and Short, also by B.R. Myers. Yes, the same B.R. Myers who takes aim at literary fiction here.)