Veal Crates and Other Urban Myths

Twenty years ago, I couldn’t stop telling people how to live their lives and how much their choices were damaging the environment, animals, and their own karma.

Ah, those were the days, when I had a shaved head, nine earrings in my left ear, and wore Victorian, lace-up boots (combat boots were too, well, military), and black from head to toe, and hung out at CBGBs. I was a registered Socialist, I ate only raw food, I didn’t drink, and I took my soapbox wherever I went. I was a blast at parties, as you can imagine.

But now that I’m a wimpy, suburban, almost-40-year-old, I don’t lecture anyone about their food, I don’t register my malcontent that a friend, who happens to be one of the most intelligent people I know, has a fur coat, I eat lots of cooked food, and I’m catching up on my drinking.

I speak, about animal issues, when I am spoken to. I don’t volunteer any information, but if you’re dumb enough to ask me where foie gras comes from or what’s in a sausage, I’m going to say the following, every time: Are you sure you wanna know? And if you say yes, I’m going to explain, in my signature Mary Martin, Animal Person-style of sans emotion, yet chock full o’ information, exactly what you want to know, and probably refer you to at least two books and several websites for further information. And then either you’ll never talk to me again, or you’ll come calling in a week or two, guilt-ridden about the way you’ve been living your life, and committing to transform yourself completely. I’m currently batting better than .500.

I wonder how many people I influenced while I was yelling at them, calling them murderers? I’m guessing not as many. I present the backstory so you can appreciate an episode last week where I almost reverted back to my old self.

There I was, at dinner with a friend, who was about to order veal. In a moment of weakness, I think I furrowed my brow or maybe I had an involuntary facial twitch that made her ask: That whole thing about veal in crates is just an urban myth, right?

This woman is an intelligent, articulate, compassionate cat person who’s raising two well-mannered, smart kids and sending them to the best private schools in the area. She’s active in the nonprofit community and reads the New York Times, at least on Sunday.

Veal crates are an urban myth, though? How on Earth do you respond to such a question?

I calmly explained the (existence of and the) cruelty of the veal crate system, which evidently is NOT used by Whole Foods-suppliers and some small farms. But if you’re in the average restaurant ordering veal, that veal came from a factory farm where it was a male byproduct of the dairy calf system.

From the calf’s point of view, immediate slaughter is the better fate, for it spares him 16 weeks of confinement in semi-darkness, in a bare wooden crate too narrow to turn around in. He will be tied at the neck, further restricting his movements. Already stressed by separation from his mother and unable to mingle with others of his kind, he will be fed only "milk replacer," a liquid mixture of dried milk products, starch, fats, sugar, antibiotics, and other additives. This diet is deliberately so low in iron that he will develop subclinical anemia (p. 58-59, The Way We Eat: Why Our Food Choices Matter, Peter Singer and Jim Mason).

I referred her to a couple of books and websites, and we’ll see what happens. This would be a great ending if it weren’t for the next potential entree for her that evening: lobster. The question then became: Do we really know that they feel pain? And my answer was No. Just like if I were to tape your mouth and maybe tie you up, then dump you into boiling water, I wouldn’t know for sure that you were feeling pain, because you wouldn’t be able to tell me. You might look like you were suffering, but I wouldn’t be able to say for sure. I turn, again, to Singer and Mason, for an analogy that might be a little friendlier . . .

Suppose you are driving your car along a narrow two-lane road on a dark night and you see something in the road, across your lane. It may be a bundle of old clothes, but it also might be a person. Should you just drive over it, or swerve around it, or stop? Obviously, if you can safely stop, that is what you should do. But suppose the road is icy, there is a car close behind you and a car coming the other way. In such circumstances you can’t swerve, and if you hit the brakes hard you may be hit by the car behind, causing a serious accident. Then, if the object on the road is very likely to be just a bundle of old clothes, it may be right to drive over it, hoping that it isn’t a person, or at least not a living one. . . . [I]f there is uncertainty about whether what we do will cause serious harm, we should give the benefit of the doubt to the being whom we might harm (p. 132-133).

Do Singer and Mason think you should cause an accident to avoid the thing that might be a person? No.

[I]f it were a choice between causing them possible pain or incurring great suffering ourselves, we would be justified in no longer giving them the benefit of the doubt–though we should still do our best to minimize the pain we might be inflicting on them (133).

Part of me likes my analogy better, because it’s more urgent and vivid, but theirs is definitely the more thorough and logical of the two.

The moral of the story? If you think you might be causing pain by doing something not necessary for your existence, err on the side of caution, and don’t do it.