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A Short Meat-Oriented History of the World from Eden to the Mattole
First of Four Parts: Peter's Dream
By Alexander Cockburn
Start with God.
'And [Peter] saw heaven opened, and a certain vessel descending unto him, as it had been a great sheet knit at the four corners, and let down to the earth: wherein were all manner of four-footed beasts of the earth, and wild beasts, and creeping things, and fowls of the air.
And there came a voice to him, Rise, Peter; kill, and eat.'
(Acts 10: 11­13)
The Bible is a meat-eater's manifesto.
Before the Fall, Adam and Eve were vegetarian.
They fed on grains, nuts and fruits.
Then Eve ate the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil — or at least that's the way Adam explained it to God.
They were cast forth from the Garden, plunging mankind into original sin from which redemption can come only through the grace of Christ, whose flesh is eaten periodically in the form of the Eucharist.
Hardly were Adam and Eve out of Eden before God was offering 'respect' to the flesh sacrifice of Abel the keeper of sheep and withholding 'respect' from Cain the tiller of the ground.
Next thing we know, Cain rose up against his brother Abel, slew him and we were on our way.  [1]  
Man's Dominion
Ringing in Man's ears was the Almighty's edict, as reported in Genesis 1:26­28:
'Let us make Man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominio . . . over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth . . . Be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth and subdue it.'
Thus did the biblical God launch humans on the exploitation of the rest of the natural world, theirs for the using.  [2]  
Dominion over 'Un-Christian' nature was at the heart of it, as C.S. Lewis spelled out frankly enough:
'Atheists naturally regard . . . the taming of an animal by man as a purely arbitrary interference of one species with another.
The "real" or "natural" animal is to them the wild one, and the tame animal is an artificial or unnatural thing.
But a Christian must not think so.
Man was appointed by God to have dominion over the beasts, and . . . the tame animal is therefore, in the deepest sense, the only "natural" animal — the only one we see occupying the place it was made to occupy.'  [3]  
Such arrogance towards non-human creatures was similarly displayed towards women and human slaves.
Not long after His commands in Genesis about animals we find God — in the row immediately following the Fall — telling Eve that:
'In sorrow shall thou bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.'
So far as human slaves were concerned, once again the slave-owners were able to point to Genesis 9, 25­7 and God's curse on Canaan, and the children of Ham: 'A servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren.' The early Christians never rejected slavery.  [4]  
The Butcher Slaves
Throughout the sixteenth century, intelligent people were having doubts about the distinctiveness of humans or their superior station in the Great Chain of Being.
Montaigne wrote that there were no important differences between humans and other animals.  The latter, he said, displayed powers of logic, discrimination, judgement, cunning and even religiosity.  [5]  
Such sentiments were powerfully abetted by the growing distaste among intellectuals like Erasmus, Sir Thomas More and Montaigne for hunting, a pursuit whose refinements had transfixed the upper classes for five centuries.
'And thus with their butchering and eating of beasts,' Erasmus wrote in In Praise of Folly, at the start of the sixteenth century, 'they [the genteel hunters] accomplish nothing at all unless it be to degenerate into beasts themselves. . .'
Montaigne concluded:
'It is apparent that it is not by a true judgment, but by foolish pride and stubbornness, that we set ourselves before the other animals and sequester ourselves from their condition and society.'  [6]  
Sir Thomas More's Utopia, published in 1516, brings together some of these themes:
Outside the city are designated places where all gore and offal may be washed away in running water.
From these places they transport the carcasses of the animals slaughtered and cleaned by the hands of slaves.
They do not allow their citizens to accustom themselves to the butchering of animals, by the practice of which they think that mercy, the finest feeling of our human nature, is gradually killed off.
A few pages further on, More's Utopians 'have imposed the whole activity of hunting, as unworthy of free men, upon their butchers — a craft, as I explained before, they exercise through their slaves.'
There was a long-running popular myth that butchers were at various periods excluded from English juries, on the grounds that their trade had coarsened their powers of moral discrimination.  [7]  
The Breaking of Soft Machines
From these humane sentiments of the sixteenth century we approach the seventeenth century and Descartes, who regarded humans as machinery imbued with the divinely bestowed intellectual essence.
Animals were mere machinery.
At Port-Royal, the Cartesians cut up living creatures with fervour and, in the words of one of Descartes' biographers, 'kicked about their dogs and dissected their cats without mercy, laughing at any compassion for them and calling their screams the noise of breaking machinery.'
The butchering industry has always been stoutly Cartesian in outlook for obvious reasons.
'The breeding sow', an executive from Wall's Meat Co. wrote in National Hog Farmer in the late 1970s, 'should be thought of, and treated as, a valuable piece of machinery whose function is to pump out baby pigs like a sausage machine.'  [8]  
As a Christian you either concluded with Descartes that animals did not suffer, that their cries were of no greater consequence than the snap of a clock spring breaking, or you reckoned God had a deeper plan, hard for humans to comprehend.
John Wesley, the Methodist divine, thought that animal suffering offered:
'a plausible objection against the justice of God, in suffering numberless creatures that had never sinned to be so severely punished.'
Wesley's answer was a sort of Pythagorean metempsychosis, whereby at the last trump they would be resurrected with human intelligence and, thus equipped, enjoy life everlasting.  [9]  
But the core text for Christians remained the edict in Genesis, along with the divine injunction to St Peter to kill and eat with God's blessing.
St Francis of Assisi may have had strong rapport with the birds of the air, but in the New World the Franciscans, Jesuits and Dominicans pioneered cattle ranching.  [10]  
In 1638, the Jesuits abandoned a mission east of the Rio Plata in what is now Uruguay, leaving behind five thousand head of cattle.
These and other herds multiplied at a staggering rate.
By 1700, Felix de Azara reckoned the cattle in what is now Argentina, Uruguay and Paraguay at 48 million, most of them feral.  [11]  
Further north, these religious orders founded ranches on Marajo, the island in the mouth of the Amazon, in Sonora, in Texas and in Alta California.
By the early nineteenth century, the mission herds in Alta California were estimated at anywhere from 200,000 to 400,000 longhorns of Spanish descent, parents of the gigantic herds later driven to the inferno of the Chicago stockyards.  [12]  
Christians have no dietary sanction against eating the flesh of creatures other than themselves.
The many days — most notably Fridays in the old Roman Catholic calendar — of non-flesh consumption, were penitential in function.
Lent was similar.
Contrary to common belief, Hindus do not have a religious interdict on the eating of meat.
As in More's Utopia, the attitude is caste-based, with Brahmins (intellectuals and priests) and Vaisyas (merchants) regarding meat-eating as the province of Kshatriyas (warriors) and Sudras (labourers).
Tanning and butchering are done by the Untouchables.
Meat-eating is regarded by Brahmins as unclean, and caste mobility in Hindu society is often expressed by giving up meat and becoming vegetarian.
Many modern Christians do not care much for the prescriptions in Genesis and use the same sort of language one Bishop of Durham once did about the Resurrection: it was all a lot of bother about a heap of old bones.
(God responded by striking Durham Cathedral with a lightning bolt, serving the Bishop right.)
But the theology still has strength.
In an influential essay published in 1967, 'The Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis', Lynn White Jr. discussed the verses from Genesis 1: 26­28 about man's dominion over the earth and concluded that:
'We shall continue to have a worsening ecologic crisis until we reject the Christian axiom that nature has no reason for existence save to serve man.'
An Earthly Paradise
Thus was the gauntlet thrown down.
In 1991, I heard it being picked up by U.S. Representative Bill Dannemeyer, talking to a crowd of businessmen in the Eureka Inn, in Eureka, northern California, some two hours north of where I live.
'We should understand,' Dannemeyer told the crowd:
'that this environmental party has in its objective a mission to change this society, to worship the creation instead of the creator.
You have to understand their theology.
I can't prove this by empirical analysis, but my gut reaction to their thoughts is simply this: if you go through life and you don't believe in a hereafter and all you see before you today are trees, birds . . .
. . . if anybody begins to consume those things, you can get excited about that because it's your whole world.
And this is where the militancy comes.'
Five years later, at a gun rally outside Detroit, I heard similar execration heaped on environmentalists for preferring rats to humans, plus a savage attack on Jeremy Bentham, the eighteenth-century English utilitarian who famously declared in his
Introduction to Principles of Morals and Legislation,
published in 1780, that animals have rights and that:
The question is not, Can they reason?
Nor Can they talk?
But, Can they suffer?
Bentham drew explicit comparisons between the rights of animals and the rights of slaves, equating the abolitionist cause for human slaves with the cause of rights for animals.
Alluding to the French Code Noir of 1685, regulating the status of slaves in the West Indies and forbidding their murder by their masters, Bentham expressed the hope that animals would also thus be saved from their torturers and that one day 'the number of legs, the villosity of the skin, or the termination of the os sacrum' would be equally insufficient reasons for maltreatment.
Soon after the Second World War, Bertrand Russell wrote:
If men developed by such slow stages that there were creatures which we should not know whether to classify as human or not, the question arises: at what stage in evolution did men, or their semi-human ancestors, begin to be all equal?
. . .An adherent of evolution may maintain that not only the doctrine of the equality of all men, but also that of the rights of man, must be condemned as unbiological, since it makes too emphatic a distinction between men and other animals.  [13]  
In his marvellous book on hunting,   A View to a Death in the Morning,   Matt Cartmill quotes Russell on the 'too emphatic distinction between men and other animals' and then offers this farewell to the stipulations of the God of Genesis:
Our culture offers to justify that [too emphatic] distinction by viewing human beings as separate from nature and innately superior to it.
At the same time, however, we view the natural order as sacred and establish elaborate machineries to protect it from human intervention.
Though different subcultures place different stress on these two views, probably most of us would assent in some degree to both.
But it is obvious they do not fit very well together.
Our vision of nature as man's holy slave is both incoherent and dishonest, like the patriarchal Victorian vision of Woman as a sort of angelic chattel.
The incoherence and dishonesty inherent in that Victorian ideology were eventually corrected by recognizing that the similarities between master and chattel had greater moral and political importance than the differences.
Since there proved to be no morally interesting differences between women and men, the only way men could preserve their self-respect and integrity was to extend citizenship to women.
The same was true of masters and slaves and of whites and blacks.
In each of these cases, a heavily marked status boundary ultimately had to be given up because it was intellectually indefensible.
And if the cognitive boundary between man and beast, between the world of history and the world of nature, is equally indefensible, we cannot defend human dignity without extending some sort of citizenship to the rest of nature — which means ceasing to treat the non-human world as a series of means to human ends.

Second of Four Parts of a Short, Meat-Oriented History of the World, From Eden to the Mattole
The March to Porkopolis
By Alexander Cockburn
Start with God.    Now continue with Empire.
In a three-week period in May 1806, as Lewis and Clark moved through Montana in the course of their survey, they and their party — the Corps of Discovery — killed 167 animals, about eight a day.
Reviewing their entire itinerary, Donald Worster reckons that over twenty-eight months they probably shot — for their needs as opposed to random slaughter — 'something between five and ten thousand.'  [14]  
But there was plenty of random slaughter as well.
They killed grizzlies, mountain lions, wolves, bobcats, marmots and of course buffalo.
They could pick and choose because the western plains displayed a richness of animal life that overwhelmed many travelers.
75 million buffalo
Writing a decade into the twentieth century, when this richness had all but gone, the nature writer Ernest Thompson Seton reckoned that near the end of the eighteenth century the 'primitive' population of buffalo had been 75 million. 
By 1895 there were eight hundred buffalo left, mostly within the borders of Yellowstone Park.
Grizzlies, through the mountain and western states, Canada and Alaska had, in the earlier period, amounted to some two million on Seton's estimation.
By 1908 they had dwindled to 200,000, almost entirely in Alaska and Canada.
Seton reckoned there were maybe eight hundred in the Lower 48, again mostly around Yellowstone.
In mid-1995 there were still about eight hundred in the Lower 48, though the Fish and Wildlife Service was planning to pull the grizzly off the endangered species list after twenty years, under the pretense that Ursus horribilis was no longer imperilled.
Translation: without the pesky bear inhibiting industrial and extractive activities, mining, oil and timber companies can get on with the business of drilling and chopping, just as God intended for them to do.  [15]  
On Seton's calculations, elk had dropped from ten million to 70,000 by 1919.
Mule deer did best, with 500,000 left by the time Seton was writing.
(He may have exaggerated the original numbers before the white man came.  One later reckoning had the number of buffalo on the continent in 1830 as forty million.  But the variety and number of species lost were still immense.)
By the end of the 1870s, the buffalo was nearly gone.
Colonel Richard Dodge, himself a keen hunter, reckoned that hunters killed over four million in the mid 1870s alone:
'Where there were myriads of buffalo. . . there were now myriads of carcasses.
The air was foul with sickening stench and the vast plain. . . was a dead, solitary, putrid desert.'
The plains, mountains, valleys profuse with creatures but half a century before were now empty in what one traveller along the South Platte called 'the uniformity of its cheerless scenery.'
Of the Great Plains, Barry Lopez has written:
'If you count the buffalo for hides and the antelope for backstraps and the passenger pigeons for target practice and the Indian ponies (killed by whites, to keep the Indian poor), it is conceivable that 500 million creatures died.  [16]  
And with these creatures went the Indians' food and way of life.
When he was ten years old, Plenty-Coups, chief of the Crow in Montana, had a dream that the white man came with his cattle and destroyed the natural life of the plains.
He was right:
'When the buffalo went away, we became a changed people. . . The buffalo was everything to us.'
Three centuries earlier, the First Viceroy of New Spain had written to his King:
'May your lordship realize that if cattle are allowed, the Indians are destroyed.'
The buffalo went.
Indian time ended.
The only place to get food was on the reservations, courtesy of the Indian agent.
For a while the Indians made a few dollars gathering up the buffalo bones, shipping off the skeletons, a year or two after the hides.
In the buffaloes' stead came the white men's cattle.
Diet and Industry
They came up from Mexico, west through the Appalachians, or from the Florida panhandle.
In 1850, with the exception of coastal California and east Texas, there was barely a cow or a steer west of the Mississippi.
There were more cattle — nearly a million — in New York State than anywhere else.
In the whole of the United States the number of cattle — excluding milk cows — added up to almost 11.5 million.
By 1870 the total was up to 15 million and by 1900 that had more than doubled again, to 35 million.
Texas alone had 6.5 million, and Kansas, Iowa and Oklahoma had some 2.5 million each on the range or in feedlots.
In that half-century, industrial meat-eating came of age.  [17]  
Grains 90 per cent
From the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries — when reliable records began to be kept — to the mid nineteenth century, the European diet varied little.
Grains took up about 90 per cent of a family's food budget: rye, buckwheat, oats, barley, maize.  [18]  
From the moments that the victuallers and provisioners in the Napoleonic wars pioneered the organization of the mass-production line and also modern methods of food preservation, the stage was set for the annihilation of both time and space in matters of food consumption.
The vast cattle herds that began to graze the pastures of the western United States, Australia and Argentina signalled the change.
The speed with which the rhythms and sensibilities of a pre-industrial time were abandoned may be judged by descriptions of Haussmann's famous 'La Villette' abattoir, modelled on the old 1807 design approved by Napoleon, and by accounts, virtually contemporaneous, of the Union Stockyards in Chicago.
La Villette was opened in 1867.
Siegfried Giedion describes it in Mechanization Takes Command:
The whole installation bears witness to the care with which the individual animal was treated.
The great lairages (bergeries), with their lofts under the high roofs and their careful design, might have stood in a farmyard; each ox had a stall to itself.
. . . In this curious symbiosis of handicraft with centralization lies the peculiarity of this establishment.
. . . each ox had a separate booth in which it was felled.
This is a survival of handicraft practices, to which the routine of mass slaughtering is unknown.
The long houses in which the cattle were slaughtered consisted of rows of single cabins set side by side.
Long since, technical installations and slaughtering in large halls have superseded them.
It may well be that this treatment in separate booths expresses the deeply rooted experience that the beasts can be raised only at the cost of constant care and attention to the individual animal.
The Great Plains beyond the Mississippi, where free tracts of grassland can be dominated from horseback and where the herds grow up almost without care, are implicitly related to the assembly line.
In just the same way the peasant farm, where each cow has its name and has to be attended when giving birth to its calf, is linked to handicraft methods in slaughtering.  [19]  
Giedion's omission here is the feedlot, where the midwestern farmers were able to take the two-year old 'stockers' from the range, then convert their corn into the weight that the 'feeders' swiftly put on, before being dispatched on the final stage of their journey through life.
Clockwork Slaughter
By 1850 the slaughterhouses of Cincinnati — 'Porkopolis' — had been refining the continuous production line for over twenty years.
Frederick Law Olmsted, the landscape and park designer, visited Cincinnati in the 1850s:
We entered an immense low-ceilinged room and followed a vista of dead swine upon their backs, their paws stretching mutely towards heaven.
Walking down to the vanishing point we found there a sort of human chopping machine where the hogs were converted into commercial pork.
A plank table, two men to lift and turn, two to wield the cleavers, were its component parts.
No iron cog-wheels could work with more regular motion.
Plump falls the leg upon the table, chop, chop; chop, chop; chop, chop, fall the cleavers.
All is over.
But before you can say so, plump, chop, chop; chop, chop; chop, chop, sound again.
There is no pause for admiration.
By a skilled sleight-of-hand, hams, shoulders, clear, mess, and prime fly off, each squarely cut to its own place, where attendants, aided by trucks and dumb-waiters, dispatch each to its separate destiny — the ham for Mexico, its loin for Bordeaux.
Amazed beyond all expectation at the celerity, we took out our watches and counted thirty—five seconds, from the moment when one hog touched the table until the next occupied its place.
The numbers of blows required I regret we did not count.  [20]  
But, by later standards, Cincinnati's hog butchers at that time were not as organized as their successors in the Union yards in Chicago.
Much of the hog-head, neck-pieces, backbones-was thrown into the Ohio River.  [21]  
Many a nineteenth-century traveller stopped in Cincinnati or, later, Chicago to marvel at the efficiency and heartlessness of this unending, furious dispatch of animals to feed New York, Boston, Paris, London and the increasing industrial armies, and military armies too, that desired to eat meat.
In these years between 1807 and 1865 — the opening of the Union Stockyards in Chicago — was perfected the production-line slaughter of living creatures, for the first time in the history of the world.
At one end of the trail lay the prairies, the open range, the boisterous pastoral of the cattle drive, where the cowboys sometimes spared a longhorn:
'Reed Anthony, Andy Adams' cowman, tells how he and other Confederate soldiers guarding a herd of Texas steers saved the life of one because he would always walk out and stand attentive to the notes of "Rock of Ages" sung by his herders.'  [22]  
Spared were two or three or ten or a hundred or a thousand from among the millions and millions of creatures that plodded to railheads like Abilene, and thence eastward, or to abattoirs nearer at hand and then bought up by government agents to be sent to the reservations to feed Indians who no longer had buffalo to hunt.
The Hogsqueal of the Universe
'Cows and cowboys', William Cronon writes in Nature's Metropolis, in his chapter about Chicago's stockyards, 'might be symbols of a rugged natural life on the western range, but beef and pork were commodities of the city.
One was not likely to forget that pigs and cattle had died so that people might eat, for one saw them grazing in familiar pastures, and regularly visited the barnyards and butcher shops where they gave up their lives in the service of one's daily meal.
In a world of farms and small towns, the ties between field, pasture, butcher shop, and dinner table were everywhere apparent, constant reminders of the relationships that sustained one's own life.
In a world of ranches, packing plants, and refrigerator cars, most such connections vanished from easy view.

Third of Four Parts of a Short, Meat-Oriented History of the World, from Eden to the Mattole
Vegetarians, Nazis for Animal Rights, Blitzkrieg of the Ungulates
By Alexander Cockburn
The vegetarians and Hitler now enter the story.
With the surge in meat-eating associated with industrial capitalism came — particularly from city-dwellers — a swelling of the vegetarian cause, hitherto confined to a relatively few Pythagoreans, radicals and eccentrics.
Compassion for animals also surged, particularly in Britain where Queen Victoria lent her name to the issue and where anti-vivisection movements drew increasing adherents, as they did in Germany and France.  [23]  
The ideological groundwork had been prepared as early as the first century ad with Seneca, and the third century, in the writings of the neo-Platonist Porphyry.
By the seventeenth century there were vociferous advocates of the view that consumption of animal flesh was aesthetically repulsive, productive of spiritual grossness and unhealthy besides.
(Even earlier, Shakespeare caused Thersites to deride Ajax as 'thou mongrel beef-witted lord.')
In the seventeenth century, Thomas Tryon rejected flesh-eating in part because he was against 'killing and oppressing his fellow creatures,' in part because flesh gave man 'a wolfish, doggist nature.'
(Both Shakespeare and Tryon were themselves being doggist here, in modern usage.)
When Adam and Eve began to eat their fellow creatures after expulsion from Eden, quarrelling and war among humanity began.
Tryon was also against slavery, ill-treatment of the insane and discrimination against left-handed people.
The eighteenth century continued to produce an array of arguments in favor of vegetarianism.
Scientists argued that man was not made to be carnivorous, given the arrangement of teeth and intestines.
Moralists continued to invoke the violence done by animal slaughter to the traits of benevolence and compassion.
Butchers were the subject of rebuke, as the poet John Gay urged pedestrians:
To shun the surly butcher's greasy tray, Butchers, whose hands are dy'd with blood's foul stain, And always foremost in the hangman's train.
British Royal Commissioners a century later found work in abattoirs to be a particularly demoralized trade.
The historian Keith Thomas remarks that in the 1790s vegetarianism had radical, even millennial overtones.
John Oswald was a radical Scotsman who acquired the vegetarian habit from Hindus while serving in a Highland regiment in India.
He wrote The Cry of Nature and died fighting for the Jacobins against the Chouans in the Vendée.
In Salford, the Bible Christians were founded by William Cowherd as a breakaway sect from the Swedenborgians.
Vegetarianism was a condition of entry, and three hundred members mustered in support of health, gnosticism and the tempered life.
Cowherd's disciple William Metcalfe led a group of Bible Christians to Philadelphia, where Metcalfe converted Sylvester Graham in 1830, who became a renowned advocate of temperance, vegetarianism and unbolted flour and who drew on work by the London doctor William Lamb.
The latter's patient John Frank Newton wrote The Return to Nature, which much influenced the poet Shelley's 1812 book, Vindication of Natural Diet.  [24]  
Nazi Squeamishness
But it would be cowardly to accentuate the utopian timbre to much vegetarian thought without also considering the association of vegetarian habit and of solicitude for animals with the Nazis.
In April 1933, soon after they had come to power, the Nazis passed laws regulating the slaughter of animals.
Later that year Herman Goering announced an end to the
Unbearable torture and suffering in animal experiments.
And — in an extremely unusual admission of the existence of such institutions, threatened to:
Commit to concentration camps those who still think they can continue to treat animals as inanimate property.
Bans on vivisection were issued — though later partly rescinded — in Bavaria and Prussia.
Horses, cats and apes were singled out for special protection.
In 1936, a special law was passed regarding the correct way of dispatching lobsters and crabs and thus mitigating their terminal agonies.
Crustaceans boiled alive
Crustaceans were to be thrown into rapidly boiling water.
Bureaucrats at the Nazi Ministry of the Interior had produced learned research papers on the kindest method of killing.  [25]  
Laws protecting wildlife were also passed, under somewhat eugenic protocols:
'The duty of a true hunter is not only to hunt but also to nurture and protect wild animals in order that a more varied, stronger and healthier breed shall emerge and be preserved.'
The Nazis were much concerned about endangered species, and Goering set up nature reserves to protect elk, bison, bears and wild horses.
(Goering called forests 'God's cathedrals,' thus echoing the idiom of John Muir, one of the fathers of the American national-park movement, and a despiser of Indians.)
The aim of the Law for the Protection of Animals was — as the preamble stated:
'To awaken and strengthen compassion as one of the highest moral values of the German people.'
Animals were to be protected for their own sake rather than as appendages to the human moral and material condition.
This was hailed as a new moral concept.
In 1934, an international conference in Berlin on the topic of animal protection saw the podium festooned with swastikas and crowned by a banner declaring:
'Entire epochs of love will be needed to repay animals for their value and service.'
Nazi leaders were noted for love of their pets and for certain animals, notably apex predators like the wolf and the lion.
Hitler, a vegetarian and hater of hunting, adored dogs and spent some of his final hours in the company of Blondi, whom he would take for walks outside the bunker at some danger to himself.
He had a particular enthusiasm for birds and most of all for wolves.
His cover name was Herr Wolf.
Many of his interim headquarters had 'Wolf' as a prefix, as in Wolfschanze in East Prussia, of which Hitler said 'I am the wolf and this is my den.'
Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf
He also liked to whistle the tune of 'Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf' from Walt Disney's movie of the Depression, about the Three Pigs.
Goebbels said, famously:
'The only real friend one has in the end is the dog.
. . .The more I get to know the human species, the more I care for my Benno.'
Goebbels said, famously:
Goebbels also agreed with Hitler that 'meat eating is a perversion in our human nature,' and that Christianity was a 'symptom of decay', since it did not urge vegetarianism.
Rudolf Hess was another affectionate pet owner.
On the one hand, monsters of cruelty towards their fellow humans; on the other, kind to animals and zealous in their interest.
In their very fine essay on such contradictions, Arnold Arluke and Boria Sax offer three observations.
One, as just noted, many Nazi leaders harboured affection towards animals but antipathy to humans.
Hitler was given films by a maharaja which displayed animals killing people.
The Fuehrer watched with equanimity.
Another film showed humans killing animals.
Hitler covered his eyes and begged to be told when the slaughter was over.
In the same passage in his diary from the 1920s quoted above, Goebbels wrote:
'As soon as I am with a person for three days, I don't like him any longer
. . .I have learned to despise the human being from the bottom of my soul.'
Second, animal protection measures:
'May have been a legal veil to level an attack on the Jews.
In making this attack, the Nazis allied themselves with animals since both were portrayed as victims of "oppressors" such as Jews.'
Central to this equation was the composer Richard Wagner, an ardent vegetarian who urged attacks on laboratories and physical assault on vivisectionists, whom he associated with Jews — presumably because of kosher killing methods.
Identifying vivisectors as the enemy, Wagner wrote that vivisection of frogs was 'the curse of our civilization'. 
Those who failed to untruss and liberate frogs were 'enemies of the state'.
Vivisection, in Wagner's view, stood for mechanistic science, extrusion of a rationalist intellectualism that assailed the unity of nature, of which man is a part.
He believed the purity of Aryans had been compromised by meat eating, and mixing of the races.
A non-meat diet plus the Eucharist would engender a return to the original uncorrupted state of affairs.
Wagner borrowed from the Viennese monk, Adolf Lanze, who held that in the beginning there were Aryans and Apes, with Germans closest to the former and Jews to the latter.
The core enterprise was to perfect the breed and purge the coarser element.
This went for animals too, in an unremitting process of genetic purification.
Finally, as Arluke and Sax put it:
'The Nazis abolished moral distinctions between animals and people by viewing people as animals.
The result was that animals could be considered 'higher' than some people.'
The blond Aryan beast of Nietzsche represented animality at the highest available grade, at one with wild nature.
But spirituality could be associated with animals destined for the table, as in this piece of German farm propaganda:
The Nordic peoples accord the pig the highest possible honor.
. . .in the cult of the Germans the pig occupies the first place and is the first among the domestic animals.
. . .The predominance of the pig, the sacred animal destined to sacrifices among the Nordic peoples, has drawn its originality from the great trees of the German forest.
The Semites do not understand the pig, they reject the pig, whereas this animal occupies the first place in the cult of the Nordic people.'
Aryans and animals were allied in a struggle against the contaminators, the vivisectors, the under-creatures.
'The Fuehrer,' Goebbels wrote 'is deeply religious, though completely anti-Christian.
He views Christianity as a symptom of decay.
Rightly so.
It is a branch of the Jewish race
. . . Both [Judaism and Christianity] have no point of contact to the animal element, and thus, in the end they will be destroyed.
The Fuehrer is a convinced vegetarian on principle.'
Race purification was often seen in terms of farm improvement, eliminating poor stock and improving the herd.
Martin Bormann had been an agricultural student and manager of a large farm.
Himmler had been a chicken breeder.
Medical researchers in the Third Reich, Arluke and Sax write, 'also approached Germans as livestock.
For instance, those familiar with Mengele's concentration camp experiments believed that his thoughtlessness about the suffering of his victims stemmed from his passion about creating a genetically pure super-race, as though you were breeding horses.'
Those contaminating Aryan stock were 'lower animals' and should be dispatched.
Seeing such people as low and coarse animal forms allowed their production-line slaughter.
Hoss, the Auschwitz commandant, was a great lover of animals, particularly horses, and after a hard day's work in the death camp liked to stroll about the stables.
'Nazi German identity,' Arluke and Sax conclude:
'Relied on the blurring of boundaries between humans and animals and the constructing of a unique phylogenetic hierarchy that altered conventional human-­animal distinctions and imperatives.
. . .As part of the natural order, Germans of Aryan stock were to be bred like farm stock, while "lower animals" or "subhumans", such as the Jews and other victims of the Holocaust, were to be exterminated like vermin as testament to the new "natural" and biological order conceived under the Third Reich.'
Animal-rights advocates and vegetarians often fidget under jeers that it was Nazis who banned vivisection.
In fact vivisection continued during the Third Reich.
The British journal The Lancet commented on the Nazis' animal experimentation laws of 1933 that:
'It will be seen from the text of these regulations that those restrictions imposed [in Germany] follow rather closely those enforced in [England].'
The moral is not that there is something inherently Nazi-like in campaigning against vivisection or deploring the eating of animal meat or reviling the cruelties of the feedlot and the abattoir.
The moral is that ideologies of nature imbued with corrupt race theory and a degraded romanticism can lead people up the wrong path.
One whose terminus was an abattoir for 'unhealthy' humans, constructed as a reverse image of the death camp for (supposedly) healthy animals to be consumed by humans.
For the Nazis their death camps were, in a way, romanticism's revenge for the abattoirs and the hogsqueal of the universe as echoing from the Union Stockyards in Chicago.  [26]  
Earth felt the wound, wrote Milton of the Fall.
Act of violence against the creatures involved
Intensive meat production — these days mostly of beef, veal, pork and chicken — is an act of violence: primarily of course an act of violence against the creatures involved.
But also violence against nature and against poor people.
Soon after the Spanish conquerors overwhelmed the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlán in 1521, the colonist-pastoralists began to take over agricultural lands for sheep and cattle.
Among such lands was what later became named the Valle de Mezquital, in highland central Mexico, centered on the Tula and Moctezuma river drainages in what is now the state of Hidalgo.
In the early sixteenth century, the Valle was the site of intensive irrigation agriculture by the Otomi Indians, with such crops as maize, chiles, maguey, nopal, squash and beans.
The soils were good and vegetative cover on the hills rich enough to catch the sparse rainwater and keep the water table high enough to feed the springs and irrigation systems.
There were forests of oak and pine.  [27]  
Old World grazing animals entered the Valle in the late 1520s, in the form of cattle, horses, pigs and goats.
By the 1540s there were forty-one flocks of sheep of around a thousand head each.
With them came African slaves as their shepherds.
Soon Indians were complaining about damage done by the alien stock to their lands and crops.
The Spanish governor banned cattle and horses from the densely populated central regions, but with the competition for forage thus diminished, the sheep population erupted.
By 1565 there were two million sheep in the Valle.
Meanwhile the Otomi were dying.
Through the century, the population fell by as much as 90 per cent.
The Great Cocoliste epidemic of 1576­81 was the coup de grâce.
Sheep began to take over from people, as the Spanish increased their stocking rates to as much as 20,000 head of sheep perstation.
This profusion of animals rapidly changed the terrain.
Vegetation diminished and often only bare soil remained.
Fields went to pasture.
Forests were chopped down for more pasture, also for use in the Spanish mines.
During the last quarter of the century, semi-arid species such as mesquite, cardon, yucca, thorn scrub, lechuguilla maguey started to take over.
The fallow lands of the decimated Indians and the pastures of the colonists were now covered in mesquite bush and thistles.
With less and less to eat, the sheep population dropped sharply.
The weight of sheep killed for meat dropped too.
'By 1600', Elinor Melville writes in her excellent account of these ecological consequences of pastoral colonization:
'Sheet erosion scarred the hillsides and covered the flat and sloping lands with slope-wash debris.
In a final blow to irrigation agriculture, springs were dying out in many parts of the region.
By the end of the sixteenth century the landscape was the eroded and gullied mesquite desert traditionally associated with the Valle de Mezquital.'
One hundred years later, the Valle finally received its modern name, 'the place where mesquite grows,' and became the Mexican symbol for arid poverty, a symbolism it retains even though today the region receives Mexico City's effluent, which renders it the site of intensive agriculture.
Those who do not know the history ascribe its present fertility to modern technology and the sewage of Mexico City.
But, as Melville says, it is not an indigenous landscape, it is a conquest landscape.
Bovine Empire
David Hamilton Wright, a biologist at the University of Georgia, once wrote that:
'An alien ecologist observing . . . earth might conclude that cattle is the dominant species in our biosphere.'  [28]  
The modern livestock economy and the passion for meat have radically altered the look of the planet.
Today, across huge swaths of the globe, from Australia to the western plains of the United States, one sees the conquest landscapes of the European mass-meat producers and their herds of ungulates.
Because of romantic ideas of 'timeless landscapes' it is hard to grasp the rapidity of this process, with spans as short as thirty-five years between the irruption of a herd onto virgin terrain, over-grazing, soil erosion, crash and eventual stabilization, with the plant communities finally levelling out, though reduced in richness and variety, and the land altered forever.
By 1795, nearly 112,000 cattle were grazing the ranges of Tamaulipas, along the Mexican Gulf coast.
These herds — plus no less than 130,000 horses — inflicted major environmental damage on the native grasses.
The grasslands began to give way to thorn bushes.
By the 1930s the pastures had been so overgrazed and degraded that forty acres were required for each cow.  [29]  
Starting around 1825, these Spanish cattle, along with herds coming from the east, through Louisiana, formed the basis of the Texas ranching system, which took the following half century to collapse, wiped out by ecological maladaptation, otherwise known as cold and drought.
By the 1880s, in Terry Jordan's words, free grass:
'Greatly encouraged over-stocking, as did a serious misreading of the pastoral capacity of the fragile short-grass plains and the speculation—fueled, hyper-commercialized cattle boom of the early 1880s.
The resulting cattle glut both severely damaged the ranges and, by 1886, led to a crash in beef prices.
Livestock dumped on the market because the depleted pastures could no longer support them further depressed prices.
Even so, thousands of additional cattle died due to the deteriorated condition of the ranges.'
The terrible winters of 1886 and 1887 — the worst in recorded memory — finished off the boom.
Millions of cattle died, and the pastures savagely degraded.
Across the years, the cattle grazed on the tall grasses — big and little bluestem, particularly where ranchers fenced off the water-courses and springs from their competitors.
Ironweed and goldenrod invaded, along with Kentucky bluegrass.
Short grasses and annual weeds took over.
In the late eighteenth century, when the first cattle herds arrived in what the Spanish colonists called Alta California, the region presented itself as a Mediterranean landscape, but of a sort that had been extinguished in Europe for many centuries.
There were meadows with perennial bunchgrasses, beardless wild rye, oat grass, perennial forbs: 22 million acres of such prairie, and 500,000 acres of marsh grass.
Beyond this, there were eight million acres of live oak woodlands, and park-like forests.
Beyond and above these, the chaparral.
By the 1860s, in the wake of the gold rush, some three million cattle were grazing California's open ranges and the degradation was rapid, particularly as ranchers had been over-stocking to cash in on the cattle boom.
Floods and drought between 1862 and 1865 consummated the ecological crisis.
In the spring of 1863, 97,000 cattle were grazing in parched Santa Barbara County.
Two years later, only 12,100 remained.
By the mid-1860s, in Terry Jordan's words, 'many ranges stood virtually denuded of palatable vegetation'.
In less than a century, California's pastoral utopia had been destroyed; the ranchers moved east of the Sierra into the Great Basin, or north, to colder and dryer terrain.
These days, travellers heading north through California's Central Valley can gaze at mile upon mile of environmental wreckage: arid land except where irrigated by water brought in from the north, absurdly dedicated to producing cotton. 
Some two hundred miles north of Los Angeles fierce stench and clouds of dust herald the Harris Beef feedlot.
On the east side of the Interstate several thousand steers are penned, occasionally doused by water sprays.
After a few minutes of this Dantesque spectacle the barren landscape resumes, with one of California's state prisons at Coalinga — unlike the beef feedlot, secluded from view — lying just over the horizon to the west.
Exchanging Petrol for Water
California is one of America's largest dairy states and livestock agriculture uses almost one third of all irrigation water.
It takes 360 gallons of water to produce a pound of beef — irrigation for grain, trough-water for stock — which is why, further east in the feedlot states of Colorado, Nebraska, Kansas along with the Texas panhandle, the Oglalla aquifer has been so severely depleted.
(California's Central Valley itself faces increasing problems of salty water from excessive use of groundwater.)
Deep-drilling for water came as response to the Dustbowl disaster of the 1930s, itself produced by farming ill-adapted to the natural conditions.
Intensive pumping of the High Plains aquifer began after the Second World War.
By 1978 there were 170,000 wells drawing off 23 million acre feet of water each year.
(An acre-foot represents the amount of water required to cover one acre with water one foot deep.)
From grain fields to slaughterhouses
This is what is needed to support a livestock industry worth $10 billion a year, from grain fields to slaughterhouses such as the Holcomb abattoir of the Iowa Beef Co., covering fourteen acres.  [30]  
The gasoline, diesel fuel, natural gas and electricity required to pump the water up several hundred feet from the shrinking aquifer are as finite as the water itself, and sometime in the next century the High Plains will be forced back to dryland farming, with such descendants of the present population as remain facing other environmental disasters: poisoning of the remaining groundwater by herbicides, fertilizer and vast amounts of nitrogen and phosphorus from the manure excreted day by day in the feedlots.
Some of the latter ends up in the air as gaseous ammonia.
At the end of the 1980s, Frank and Deborah Popper of Rutgers University began arguing that an era of agricultural 'pullback' lay ahead, and the future of the Plains might hold — though later they said that it was more a metaphor than a concrete proposal — a 'buffalo commons' in which native animals such as the buffalo would roam over federally-owned grasslands once more.
Unsustainable grazing and ranching sacrifice drylands, forests and wild species.
Brazil's military dictators who came to power in the early 1960s hoped to convert their nation's Amazonian rainforests, which cover more than 60 per cent of the country, to cattle pasture and thus make Brazil a major beef producer on the world market.
Amazon — Big company million-acre spreads
A speculative frenzy ensued, with big companies acquiring million-acre spreads which they promptly stripped of trees in order to get tax write-offs and kindred subsidies from the junta.
Big ranchers, rather than the peasant settler-pyromaniacs of song and story, accounted for most of the destruction. 
Within a decade or so, degraded scrubland had yielded money to the corporations but few cattle, and none of these could be sold on the world market because they were diseased.
Indeed the Amazon is a net beef-importing region.
Meanwhile many of the two or three million people who lived in the rainforest have been evicted with each encroachment of the burning season.  [31]  
San Francisco
Such are the assaults on the environment and on the poor, whether in the Amazon basin or in the Republic of Turkmenia, where the Soviet leadership sank 3,500 wells for cattle use, which in turn produced arid rings of desert as much as a mile wide, as cattle stripped the land round the wells clean of vegetation.  [32]  
By 1990 about half of all American rangeland was severely degraded, with the narrow-stream bank habitats the worst in memory.
Australian pastures show the same pattern.
In the drylands of South Africa, overgrazing has made over seven million acres useless for cattle and thirty-five million acres of savanna are rapidly becoming equally useless as overgrazing takes its toll.
Humans are essentially vegetarian as a species and insatiate meat-eating brings its familiar toll of heart disease, stroke, cancer.
The enthusiasm for meat also produces its paradox: hunger.
A people living on cereals and legumes for protein need to grow far less than a people eating creatures that have been fed by cereals.
For years Western journalists described in mournful tones the scrawny and costly pieces of meat available in Moscow's shops, associating the lack with backwardness and the failure of communism.
But from 1950 meat consumption in the Soviet Union tripled.
By 1964 grain for livestock feed outstripped grain for bread and by the time the Soviet Union collapsed, livestock were eating three times as much grain as humans, all of which required greater and greater imports of grain until this use of precious foreign exchange made the Soviet Union the world's second largest grain importer, while a dietary 'pattern' based on excellent bread was vanishing.
Prodded by World Bank plunge into schemes
Governments — prodded by the World Bank — plunged into schemes for intensive grain-based meat production, which favours large, rich producers and penalizes small subsistence farming.
In Mexico the share of crop land growing feed and fodder for animals went from 5 per cent in 1960 to 23 per cent in 1980.
Sorghum, used for animal feed, is now Mexico's second largest crop by area.
At the same time, the area of land producing the staples of poor folk in Mexico — corn, rice, wheat and beans — has fallen relentlessly.
Mexico is now a net corn importer, with imports from rich countries such as Canada and the US wiping out millions of subsistence farmers who have to migrate to the cities or to El Norte.
Mexico feeds 30 per cent of its grain to livestock — pork and chickens for urban eaters — and 22 per cent of the population suffers from malnutrition.
Multiply this baneful pattern across the world.
Meanwhile, the classic pastoralists who have historically provided most of the meat in Africa from grazing systems closely adapted to varying environments are being marginalized by privatization, closing off of access rights, and plans by governments to shift them to settled farming and prevent their wandering ways.
Elsewhere, small farmers are similarly marginalized.
Grain-based livestock production inexorably leads to larger and larger units and economies of scale.

Last of Four Parts of a Short, Meat-Oriented History of the World, From Eden to the Mattole
Cutting Up Mochie
By Alexander Cockburn
Come now to a Parable of Swine.
Not so many years ago in North Carolina, the pig barons sensed opportunity for their 'right to work' state.
In the traditional hog belt of the mid-west, unions and laws against some forms of agribusiness still protect the medium-sized farmer.
Today, in North Carolina the hog industry is headed the same way chicken production went thirty years ago, with the vertical integration pioneered by Purdue and others wiping out a million small chicken farmers across the country.  [33]  
The coastal plains and piedmont of North Carolina are now pocked by vast pig factories and pig slaughterhouses.
People living here sicken from the stink of twenty-five-foot deep lagoons of pig shit which have poisoned the water table and decanted nitrogen and phosphorous-laced sludge into such rivers as the Neuse, the Tar-Pamlico and the Albemarle.
Ammonia gas burdens the air, just as it does in northern Europe — doing more damage in Holland than factories or cars — where at least open lagoons are banned and the pig shit must be 'injected' into cropland rather than sprayed over it, as is the habit in the United States.
In North Carolina it is as though the sewage of fifteen million people were being flushed into open pits and sprayed onto fields, with almost no restrictions.
That's where the seven million pigs worth of manure goes.
Small hog producers have been bankrupted or become 'contract' producers for the giants, bearing the up-front costs. 
The economies of scale produce fewer jobs than in the chicken business or in the tobacco industry, which it is increasingly replacing.
To insulate themselves from popular outrage or even regulatory surveillance, the pig barons have either bought political protection or gone directly into politics, there writing or endorsing laws favourable to themselves.
Most conspicuous in this art is Wendell Murphy, head of Murphy Farms, the biggest pig business in the country, selling $200 million worth of hogs in 1994.
Murphy joined the state legislature in 1982 and soon augmented the steady stream of laws protecting hog and chicken interests.
In North Carolina legislators may make money off the bills or amendments or votes they offer so long as they can assert that such profit possibilities do not cloud their judgement.
Presumptively unclouded, Murphy pushed through or supported laws exempting his business from sales taxes, inspection fees, property taxes on feed, zoning laws, pollution fines.
Laws imposing harsh penalties on animal-rights activists were also advanced and ratified.
In 1993, after Murphy had left the assembly, one of his executives was still there to press successfully for a bill that blocked environmental researchers from getting state agriculture department records on hog-farm sites and sizes. 
In 1991, when Murphy was still installed as tribune for the pig business, the North Carolina legislature brazenly passed Senate Bill 669 allowing the nc Pork Producers Association to collect a hog levy which could be used to lobby state legislators, fight lawsuits and pursue purposes prohibited with money derived from a federal check-off.
Pork is power in North Carolina.
In 1988 when a particularly dear friend of the hog, chicken and turkey industries — Senator Harold 'Bull' Hardison — was running for the Democratic nomination for lieutenant governor in North Carolina, Murphy gave him $100,000.
A few days later Hardison got another $100,000 from Marvin Johnson, head of Raeford Farms, one of the biggest turkey processors in the country.
The legal maximum in such primary elections is $4,000.
The State Bureau of Investigations uncovered these illegal disbursements but announced in 1993 that, given the two-year statute of limitations, Murphy and Johnson could not be touched.
Hardison had done his part by advancing the laws protecting the pig barons from environmental laws and sales taxes. 
The pig men of North Carolina have a friend even higher up the political chain, in the form of us Senator Lauch Faircloth, a Republican who is part owner of Coharie Farms, the thirtieth largest hog producer in the country.
Faircloth also owns more than $1 million worth of stock in two slaughterhouses.
In Congress he is now ensconced as chairman of the Senate Subcommittee on Clean Water, Wetland, Private Property and Nuclear Safety.
Just as with Don Tyson, Arkansas' chicken king, North Carolina's pig barons have the place sewn up, even without Murphy there as an elected representative.
John M. Nichols, the Republican who leads North Carolina's House committee on Health and Environment is also a member of its House Agriculture Committee.
He is now building a 2,400 sow farm in Craven County that will raise pigs for Murphy.
Leo Daughtry, North Carolina's House majority leader, owns a part-interest in Johnson County Hams, which cures about 60,000 hams a year.
Murphy's old seat is now occupied by Charles Albertson, a professional country-music singer and former employee of the us Department of Agriculture, who won his seat with the help of pork money.
After two terms in the North Carolina House, he rose to the senatorial purple in 1993, where he was immediately named chairman of the Agriculture, Marine Resources and Wildlife Committee.
Such is the swollen empire of pork in North Carolina.
Its reeking lagoons surround darkened warehouses of animals trapped in metal crates barely larger than their bodies, tails chopped off, pumped with corn, soy beans and chemicals until, in six months, they weigh about 240 pounds, at which point they are shipped off to abattoirs to be killed, sometimes by prisoners on work release from the county jail.
Near the town of Tar Heel, in Smithfield's Carolina Foods abattoir, half the workforce are Latin American immigrants; a number of others are prisoners.
The sows are killed after about two years or whenever their reproductive performance declines.
It takes maybe eight to ten people to run a sow factory, overseeing two thousand sows, boars and piglets.
A computerized 'finishing' farm, where the pigs are fattened, may just require a part-time caretaker to check the equipment and clean up between arriving and departing cohorts of hogs.
The noise in these factories is ghastly, and many workers wear ear pads against the squealing and crashing of the animals in their cages.
When the Raleigh News and Observer did a series on North Carolina's pig barons in early 1995 — following a pioneering article in Southern Exposure in 1992 — readers were told they could call the paper's number in Raleigh, 549­5100, extension 4647 and listen to a recording of this terrible sound.
Thus do we travel toward necropolis from Olmsted's visit to Porkopolis nearly a century and a half ago.
Art met meat early on.
Nearly 20,000 years ago a paleolithic artist drew an auroch-wild ox — in black pigment on the walls of a cave at Lascaux, near what is now called Montignac, in the department of the Dordogne in France.
He made the auroch-ancestor of the Spanish fighting bulls, and of the Longhorns — eighteen feet long, its outline first sketched out with bird feathers, then etched in with a stone blade.
The artist prepared the surface with fat and oil, then blew powdered ochre onto it through a bone tube.
In the lower gallery at Lascaux there's a picture of a man lying dead.
He had evidently been attacked by an auroch, which itself had a lance in its flank and entrails hanging from its belly.
Before him, on a pole, is a bird.
Throughout the cave there are many paintings of pregnant animals.
Art here was surely an instrument of magic, an expression of ritual; magic not contrived in sorrow and repentance, but in hope; art enlisted, in Arnold Hauser's words, 'to secure the path to future enjoyment.'

The relationships between people and other creatures in the paleolithic period necessarily remain mysterious.
Discussing how hunters and gatherers perceive their environments, Tim Ingold cites one example:
Among the Cree Indians of Northern Canada, it is believed that animals intentionally present themselves to the hunter to be killed.
The hunter consumes the meat, but the soul of the animal is released to be reclothed with flesh.
Hunting there, as among many northern peoples, is conceived as a rite of regeneration: consumption follows killing as birth follows intercourse, and both acts are integral to the reproductive cycles, respectively, of animals and humans.
However, animals will not return to hunters who have treated them badly in the past.

One treats an animal badly by failing to observe the proper disposal of the bones, or by causing undue pain and suffering to the animal in killing it.
Above all, animals are offended by unnecessary killing: that is, by killing as an end in itself rather than to satisfy genuine consumption needs.
They are offended, too, if the meat is not properly shared by all those in the community who need it.
Thus meat and other usable products should on no account be wasted.  [34]  
The 'path to future enjoyment' was next secured by the domestication of animals, which turns out to be the main topic of the Middle Eastern Holy Books, much of which consist of bragging about the size of herds and flocks.
The self-sustaining family farm or the journeys of the pastoralists were well on the path to destruction by the mid-nineteenth century, with the rise of the modern commodity markets.
But the values of family-farm life remain an important ingredient of the culture of consumption: not 'Murphy Hog Industries', but 'Murphy Farms'.
Not 'John's Slaughterhouse', but 'Farmer John' in Los Angeles.
Hence, restating Hauser, the 'needs of everyday life' today require that we use the magic of art to conceal the slaughter house.
Our 'needs' are a continual supply of meat, not provided by the chances of the hunt, nor by the family farm with Peter the Pig and Daisy the Cow, but refrigerated in plastic wrap, dissociated from an animal context and accompanied by the quiet assurance that it can always be obtained by money.
The modern cave painter should depict a credit card and a Safeway.
But art mostly has not made the transition from the pre-industrial state, when 90 per cent of the world was peasant and 10 per cent 'other,' with the latter living off the surplus of the former.
From this world come most of our values and sentiments about the animals we have domesticated for work, companionship and food. 
The British artist Sue Coe, who now lives in New York, escorts us to our modern state.
In terms of art history the only previous depictions of this sort were of the Day of Judgement, of Inferno, as for example displayed by Coppo di Marcovaldo in the Baptistry in Florence.
Coe gives us the meat machinery of the slaughterhouse depicted as the day of judgement, with no heaven, only the purgatory of the feedlot, and the hell-fires of death.
And finally, on a personal note.
I wrote those last words and went forth with my friends Karen and Joe Paff to chop up the carcasses of two sheep on the tailgate of Joe's pick-up outside my house: one for my deep-freeze, the other for the Paffs.
Our neighbours, Greg and Margie Smith, had raised the sheep on their fields a couple of miles further down the Mattole River.
Eating Mochie
Unlike Sue Coe, I'm not a vegetarian.
She once sent me a wonderful print of hers called 'Modern Man Followed by the Ghost of His Meat', a fellow accompanied by an accusatory posse of pigs, chickens, cows and sheep.
The posse after me would be ample enough, starting with the crow my mother trapped during the Blitz in London, continuing with whale — wartime London again — and then picking up with the bullocks I helped consume, raised by local butchers on their farms around the southern Irish town of Youghal where I grew up.
These days I live in Humboldt County, in the Mattole Valley, a couple of hours drive south of Eureka.
The ranchers here run cattle on the hills, or the river bottom or the King Range, which is controlled by the Bureau of Land Management.
The sheep have come and mostly gone.
Here it's cattle, raised and grazed and shipped off to the feedlots.
I suppose my house goes through a couple of sheep, a pig and a hindquarter of a cow each year.
The pig would be one raised by a 4-H kid — Cisco Benemann's was the best so far — from around Ferndale, an hour over the hills, and killed and cut up by a local butcher.
The cow for the last two years was called Mochie, raised by Michael Evenson.
At a Christmas party last year I ate a good piece of beef, said so, and Michael told me it was from Mochie and sold me a hindquarter.
He gave me this little piece of Homeric history about her origins, which go back to the early 1970s, when a number of counterculture folk headed north from the Bay Area and settled in southern Humboldt.
Michael bought Mochie's grandmother as a day-old calf in a Fortuna auction in 1972.
She gave good milk in Michael's three-cow dairy.
At the age of sixteen or seventeen, she'd had fourteen calves and earned retirement.
She died in the pasture of natural causes at the age of twenty-two.
Her last calf was a heifer, who herself had fourteen calves.
Michael sold her to a couple that wanted a milk cow, and he got back the calf she was about to have:
So the animal you had part of was that calf that came to me.
I was out of milking and dairy by then.
I had very few animals and the pasture was in perfect condition.
About sixty acres.
When I first got there we figured about fifteen acres a cow but after we reseeded it, this dropped down to ten.
When you reseed, you reseed a balanced diet, with perennial and annual grasses, so the soil is always alive with something.
A lot of variety.
It was a mix Fred Hurlbutt, a rancher in Garberville, developed.
My animals were slaughtered in winter and the butcher thought they'd been on grain.
I don't grain feed animals.
Too concentrated and unbalanced.
My animals always had choices, in the kind of grasses to eat and where to sleep.
I had cross fencing but they were generous enough pastures and choice.
I had goats in the 1960s and they really taught me animals like choices.
They let you know when they're not happy.
There have never been any diseases on my place.
Bullocks I'd slaughter after about two years.
I don't lie to my animals.
I tell them the only way I know, using English, that I'm going to slaughter them.
I give them as much love and care as I can.
Then, when they're slaughtered they will be part of my body, part of your body.
You do the same in your garden.
The couple I sold Mochie's mother to are hippies living east of the Eel River.
She's a midwife and he grows lettuce.
They're new settlers, and they were the ones who called the calf Mochie.
Ground valued life
I never sent any animal to a commercial slaughterhouse.
Mochie was four and she was breaking fences and wandering.
I used a 30.30 and shot her behind the ear, out through the eye.'
Michael is off red meat now.
A friend of his, the late John Iris, who started the Wild Iris Institute for Sustainable Forestry, got bone cancer when he was fairly young.
In the military he'd worked in missile silos in Europe, and with nuclear warheads in Vietnam.
He lived in Briceland and went on a macrobiotic diet.
Michael joined him, eating fish and chicken, but nothing from the nightshade family, for example tomatoes or potatoes.
No milk, no red meat, 'even though I had a freezer full of beef and a cow I was milking.
I felt better.
I'm realizing now my life has changed because I no longer have twice daily contact with cows.
I wouldn't say life is more peaceful.  It became more turbulent.'
So much for versions of pastoral in the Mattole Valley.
Most people don't have the option of getting Greg Smith to kill them a lamb.
Probably most people wouldn't want to cut it up.
Someone in the supermarket in Garberville the other day went to the manager and complained because the meat-counter man had some bloodstains on his apron.
But even so, there are options.  If you don't like the thought of debeaked chickens sitting in a wire box all their lives, don't buy them.  [35]  
Dead chickens for sale
Figure out if you can have a meal that squares with ethical standards you can live with, or even vaguely aspire to.
If you don't want to eat a piece of an animal tortured by hog barons, then cut up by prisoners, aside from campaigning against such cruelties and conditions, ask yourself, is there a way out, at a level that goes beyond eating the pre-Fall diet, only so long as Sue Coe's paintings remain vivid in your mind.
This essay appears as part of
  Dead Meat   presenting Sue Coe's record, in the form of paintings and diaries, of slaughterhouses in the United States.
Dead Meat is published by Four Walls Eight Windows Press, in New York, and paintings in it may be seen at the St. Etienne Gallery, 20 West 57th St, New York.
[1]  God's line is that it's Man's and Woman's fault.
He set up a vegetarian world, and then the founding parents, exercising free will, wrecked everything, and creatures fell to eating one another.
'Vegetarianism was also encouraged by Christian teaching, for all theologians agreed that man had not originally been carnivorous. . .Many biblical commentators maintained that it was only after the flood that humans became meat-eaters; in the period of disorientation following the Fall they had remained herbivorous.
Others, noting that Abel was a herdsman, suggested that it was the Fall which had inaugurated the carnivorous error, and that the liberty of eating flesh which God gave Noah was merely the renewal of an earlier permission.
Commentators argued over whether meat-eating had been permitted because man's physical constitution had degenerated and therefore required new forms of nutriment, or because the cultivation of the soil to which he was condemned required a more robust food, or because the fruits and herbs on which he had fed in Eden had lost their former goodness.
But everyone agreed that meat-eating symbolised man's fallen condition.
'God allows us to take away the lives of our fellow creatures and to eat their flesh,' wrote Richard Baxter in 1691, 'to show what sin hath brought on the world.'   The death of brute animals to supply the wants of sinful man could even be made a paradigm of Christ's atonement.'
Keith Thomas, Man and the Natural World, New York 1983.
Stew Albert reports to me that the prevailing Jewish interpretation of Genesis is slightly different.
It holds (Dominions not withstanding) that God mandated that humans not eat flesh.
And that mandate was withdrawn only after the great flood.
No reason is offered by God for changing his mind ­ but some theories have it, that the flood was brought on as divine punishment because humans kept fighting among themselves.
So God decided (as an act of kindness) that the second time around humans would have an increased food supply and maybe they would fight less.  God's fabled powers of foreknowledge cleared faltered on this point.
Of course the Hebrew tribes eventually would learn that not all meat or food of the sea was permitted to them.  But that came later.
[2]  Man is 'this thing,' Francis Bacon wrote in The Wisdom of the Ancients, as he proposed his principles of scientific investigation in the early seventeenth century,' in which the whole world centres, with respect to final causes; so that if he were away, all other things would stray and fluctuate, without end or intention, or become perfectly disjointed and out of frame; for all things are made subservient to man, and he receives uses and benefits from them all. . .so that everything in nature seems made not for itself, but for man.'
In Bacon's view, the Fall had suspended man's sovereignty over nature; and to restore this prelapsarian dominance was the proper aim of all science, whose true aim, as he put it in the Novum Organum, is 'to extend more widely the limits of the power and greatness of man,' and to endow him with 'infinite commodities.'
Tyson or Purdue should have Bacon's portrait on every chicken shed.
Always alert to the possible utility of nature to man, Bacon was riding along in his coach in the early English spring of 1626, when the notion of experimenting with frozen chicken crossed his mind.
He stopped the coach, descended, bought a fowl and stuffed it with snow thus contracting the chill from which he soon died in Lord Arundel's house a few weeks later. 
Bacon discusses vivisection in somewhat muffled terms:
'To prosecute such inquiry concerning perfect animals by cutting out the foetus from the womb would be too inhuman, except when opportunities are afforded by abortions, the chase, and the like.
There should therefore be a sort of nightwatch over nature, as showing herself better by night than by day.
For these may be regarded as night studies by reason of the smallness of our candle and its continual burning.'
Novum Organum, Book ii, 41.
But while Bacon was indulging himself in these niceties, his doctor, William Harvey — who also looked after Arundel — was busy vivisecting.  Bacon published the Novum Organum in 1620.
Harvey published his treatise on the circulation of the blood, De Motu Cordis et Sanguinis in Frankfurt in 1621.
It began with the words, 'When, by many dissections of living animals, as they came to hand. . .I first gave myself to observing how I might discover. . .'
He presumably discussed his work with Bacon, who did not feel affronted enough to change doctors.
On the other hand, see the extraordinary passage on vivisection, amnesia and pain, 'Le Prix du Prográs', in Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer's Dialectic of Enlightenment, Verso, London 1979 (this was presumably Adorno):
A recently discovered letter by the French physiologist, Pierre Flourens, who once enjoyed the bittersweet fame of having been elected to the French Academy in competition with Victor Hugo, contains the following striking passage:
'I still cannot decide to agree to the use of chloroform in general surgical practice.  As you probably know, I have devoted extensive study to this substance and was one of the first to describe its specific properties on the basis of experiments with animals.

My scruples are founded on the simple fact that operations with chloroform, and presumably also with the other known forms of narcosis, have an illusory success.  These substances act solely on certain motor and coordination centers and on the residual capability of the nervous substances.
Under the influence of chloroform, the nervous substance loses a considerable part of its ability to absorb traces of impressions, but it does not lose the power of sensation as such.  On the contrary, my observations suggest that in conjunction with the general innervation paralysis, pain is experienced even more strongly than in the normal condition.  The public is misled by the fact that after an operation the patient is unable to remember what he has undergone.

If we told our patients the truth, it is probable that not one of them would wish to have an operation performed under chloroform, whereas they all insist on its use now because we shroud the truth in silence.  'But quite apart from the fact that the only questionable gain is a loss of memory lasting for the duration of surgery, I consider that the extended use of this substance entails another serious risk.  With the increasing superficiality of the general academic training of our doctors, the unlimited use of chloroform may encourage surgeons to carry out increasingly complex and difficult operations.  Instead of using these methods on animals in the interests of research, our own patients will then become unsuspecting guinea pigs.
It is possible that the painful stimuli which because of their specific nature may well exceed all known sensations of this kind, may lead to permanent mental damage in the patient or even to an undescribably painful death under narcosis; and the exact features of this death will be hidden for ever from the relatives of the patient and the world at large.  Would this not be too high a price to pay for progress?'
If Flourens had been right here, the dark paths of the divine world order would have been justified for once.
The animal would have been avenged through the suffering of his executioners: every operation would have been a vivisection.
The suspicion would then arise that our relationship with men and creation in general was like our relationship with ourself after an operation — oblivion for suffering.
For cognition the gap between us and others was the same as the time between our own present and past suffering; an insurmountable barrier.
But perennial domination over nature, medical and non-medical techniques, are made possible only by the process of oblivion.
The loss of memory is a transcendental condition for science.  All objectification is a forgetting.
Despite these admirable remarks, Adorno and Horkheimer do not seem to have had much empathy with animals, if 'Man and Animal' — which comes a few pages later in the book — is anything to go by.
Walter Benjamin's paragraph on 'Gloves' in One-Way Street, Verso, London 1979, expresses a positive revulsion towards animals.  Like Adorno and Horkheimer, he was better at describing domination than affinity.
[3]  C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain, New York 1962.  Cited in Matt Cartmill, A View to a Death in the Morning: Hunting and Nature through History, New Haven 1993.
Christian and Marxist shook hands over this deal.  Cartmill reports that in the 1930s 'some Marxist thinkers . . .urged that it was time to put an end to nature and that animals and plants that serve no human purpose ought to be exterminated.'
[4]  The historian Geoffrey de Ste. Croix declared that he was not aware of any general Christian condemnation of slavery before the petition of the Mennonites of Germantown in Pennsylvania in 1688, and the Mennonites were founded by a sixteenth-century Anabaptist, whose attitude to property was communist in outlook.
See G.E.M. de Ste. Croix, The Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World. London 1981.
'Presumption is our natural and original malady.  The most vulnerable and frail of all creatures is man, and at the same time the most arrogant.  He feels and sees himself lodged here, among the mire and dung of the world, nailed and riveted to the worst, the deadest and most stagnant part of the universe, on the lowest story of the house and the farthest from the vault of heaven, with the animals of the worst condition of the three [i.e. those that walk, fly and swim], and in his imagination he goes planting himself above the circle of the moon, and bringing the sky down beneath his feet.
It is by the vanity of this same imagination that he equals himself to God, attributes to himself divine characteristics, picks himself out and separates himself from the horde of other creatures, carves out their shares to his fellows and companions the animals, and distributes among them such portions of faculties and powers as he sees fit.  How does he know, by the force of his intelligence, the secret internal stirrings of animals?   By what comparison between them and us does he infer the stupidity that he attributes to them?'
Amplifying his essays a few years later, Montaigne added after the passage just quoted, the famous sentence:
'When I play with my cat, who knows if I am not a pastime to her more than she is to me?'
From 'Apology for Raymond Sebond,' The Complete Essays of Montaigne, translated by Donald M. Frame, Stanford 1965.
[6]  By the mid sixteenth century Giovanni Battista Gelli, a Florentine scholar, was writing Circe, a dialogue in which the enchantress of the title tells Ulysses she will restore the animals she transmogrified back into his original crew, so long as he can secure their agreement.  The animals remain unpersuaded.  You men, the doe replies to Ulysses's invitation to resume the form of a woman, 'make mere slaves and servants out of us. . .Among animals, any animals you want to name, the female partakes equally with the male in his pleasures and diversions.'   Only one, an elephant, makes the return journey and shouts triumphantly, 'What a marvelous sensation it is to be a man!'   But he was a philosopher.  R. Adams, ed., The Circe of Signior Giovanni Battista Gelli, Ithaca 1991.  Cited in Matt Cartmill, A View to a Death in the Morning.
[7]  Sir Thomas More, Utopia, edited by Edward Sturz, Yale 1964.  Keith Thomas discusses the legend of jury exclusion of butchers in Man and the Natural World.
[8]  Quoted in Animal Factories by Jim Mason and Peter Singer, New York 1990.
[9]  See Cartmill, A View to a Death in the Morning.  This concept of eighteenth-century promotion was resumed by a French biologist, Charles Bonnet, who thought that man would eventually move on 'to another dwelling place, more suitable to the superiority of his faculties', and then the beasts would be elevated accordingly: 'In this universal restoration of animals, there may be found a Leibniz or a Newton among the monkeys or the elephants, a Perrault or a Vauban among the beavers.'
[10]  Christians were deeply involved in the development of the human slave trade between the fifteenth and eighteenth centuries, since enslavement could be the prelude to conversion, just as the 'beef Christian' Indians of the Californian ranchos run by the Franciscans took on board spiritual grace along with their ribeye.  The vaqueros tending these Western herds could maybe trace some of their skills in part back through Andalucian and Marisman herders to the West African Fulani of the pre-Columbian era, some of whom may have been taken as slaves to Spain.  See Terry Jordan, North American Cattle-Ranching Frontiers, Albuquerque 1993.
[11]  Alfred Crosby, Ecological Imperialism: The Biological Expansion of Europe, 900-1900, Cambridge 1986.
[12]  See Terry Jordan, North American Cattle Ranching Frontiers.  Jordan suggests this in the context of his estimate that cowboys of African descent were extremely uncommon on the western cattle frontiers.
[13]  Bertrand Russell, A History of Western Philosophy, New York 1945.
[14]  Donald Worster, An Unsettled Country.  Changing Landscapes of the American West, Albuquerque 1994.  See particularly the chapter, 'Other People, Other Lives.'   Seton's calculations, cited below, are discussed by Worster. 
[15]  See Alexander Cockburn, 'Grisly Fate of Ursus horribilis', The Nation, July 1995.
[16]  See Worster, An Unsettled Country.
[17]  Edward Everett Dale, The Range Cattle Industry.  Ranching on the Great Plains from 1865 to 1925, Norman 1960.
[18]  Massimo Montanari, The Culture of Food, Oxford 1994.
[19]  Siegfried Giedion, Mechanization Takes Command, New York 1948.
[20]  Cited in William Cronon, Nature's Metropolis.  Chicago and the Great West, New York 1991.  Cronon's chapter, 'Annihilating Space: Meat' is a spectacular piece of work.
'One native son, from over in the neighbourhood of Licking Hills, started the yarn about the efficiency of the Cincinnati packers.
'Speaking of sausage,' said this humourous neighbor, 'those connecting links between hog and dog almost remind me of an affecting incident that occurred some years ago at a brisk village below the mouth of Deer Creek on the Ohio called Cincinnati.  An ancient maiden friend of ours was taking a stroll on the outskirts of town one pleasant summer morning, accompanied by a favorite black poodle dog — her only protector.
Walking leisurely along the flowery banks of Deer Creek, her cheek fanned by "gentle zephyrs laden with sweet perfume" , she at length came to the residence of a fat and furious German, which, it was hinted, had been the scene of many an inhuman butchery.  At the front corner of the house she noticed a fresh pork hanging at the end of a large copper pipe which seemed to communicate with the interior of the house.
Her poodle made a jump at the treasure, but no sooner had he reached the spot than he was caught under the ear by a steel hook and suddenly disappeared from the sight of his doting mistress.  She, poor soul, horror-stricken by the mysterious disappearance, rushed frantically into the house in search of him.
But alas!   Like Distaffiana, she might have well exclaimed, "Oh wretched maide — O miserable fate.  I've just arrived in time to be too late!"   For by the time she had reached the back part of the premises, all that remained of her ill-fated poodle was a blue ribbon which she had tied around his neck, seventy-five links of fresh sausage, and a beautiful black woolly muff.'
T.D. Clark, 'Kentucky Yarn and Yarn Spinners', The Cincinnati Times-Star, Centennial Edition, vol. 10, no. 100, 25 April 1940, 'Business, Industry, Kentucky Section', p. 6; from B.A. Botkin, ed., A Treasure of Mississippi River Folklore, New York 1955.
[22]  This story is told by J. Frank Dobie, in The Longhorns, Bramhall 1941, a vivid evocation of this breed.  The pastorals included stories of escape.  A steer called Table Cloth had dodged the shipping pens for over a decade:
'After returning from marketing the last fall shipment, the boss proposed that certain men take their Winchesters and bring in Table Cloth's hide and carcass.  He thought he was offering an opportunity for big sport.  He was surprised at the opposition that rolled up.  'Hadn't Table Cloth fairly won life and liberty?   For fifteen years now the whole Shoe Sole outfit had been after him — and he was still free.  He was getting old.  He had never really tried to kill a man.  He had simply outplayed his opponents.  He could not be called mean. . .By God, he deserved to live among the cedars and canyons he loved so well — and the boss agreed.'
Dobie was a wonderful writer.  His description of the Texas brush country in Chapter 17 is a particular gem of landscape literature.  Worster writes:
'Domesticated creatures like cattle and sheep have. . .been vital to the western experience, and we have hundreds of books and articles on the industries that raised those animals for slaughter.  The animals themselves have seldom if ever appeared in that literature as anything resembling Black Elk's "Four-legged people" . . .
The shining exception to the general cowlessness of the range histories is J. Frank Dobie's The Longhorns, which gives a full, appreciative account of that breed's instinct, habits and psychology — an animal, Dobie writes, that refused to be 'dumb driven cattle' but insisted on following 'the law of the wild, the stark give-me-liberty-or-give-me-death law against tyranny', a behaviour that got them labeled 'outlaws' and replaced by more docile Herefords.
Worster adds, 'Even Dobie has trouble maintaining any interest in cows that are not so wild or so much a maverick.'
[23]  On anti-vivisection, see two entries from the Encyclopedia Britannica, 11th edition, 1910­11.  The anti-vivisection movement was very strong at that time, and the editors felt it necessary to print a six-page, 9,000-word defence of vivisection, by Stephen Paget, frcs, Surgeon to the Throat and Ear Department of Middlesex hospital and honorary secretary of the Research Defence Society.
'It may be interesting to compare the pain, or death, or discomfort among 86,277 animals used for experiments in Great Britain in 1909, with the pain, or death, or discomfort of an equal number of the same kinds of animals, either in a state of nature, or kept for sport, or used for the service of human profit or amusement.
But it would be outside the purpose of this article to describe the cruelties which are inseparable from sport, and the killing of animals for food, and from fashion; neither is this the place to describe the millions of mutilations which are practised on domestic animals by farmers and breeders.
As one of the Royal Commissioners recently said, the farmyards, at certain times of the year, simply "seethe with vivisection".  The number of animals wounded in sport, or in traps, cannot be guessed.  Against this vast amount of suffering we have to put an estimate of the condition of 86,277 animals used for medical science.
Ninety-five per cent of them were used for inoculation.  In many of these inoculations the result was negative: the animal did not take any disease, and thus did not suffer any pain.
In many more, e.g. cancer in mice, tubercle in guinea pigs, the pain or discomfort, if any, may fairly be called trivial or inconsiderable.
It could hardly be said that these small animals suffer much more than an equal number of the same kind of animals kept in little cages to amuse children. . .'
The equally lengthy essay on furs, by Walter Parker, deputy chairman of the fur section of the London Chamber of Commerce, had this detailing of sales at what was the headquarters of the fine fur market, the public auction sales in London.  The figures are, for the year ending on 31 March 1906, total number of skins in each category:
The chief exceptions to this list were the Persian and Astrachan lambs, also ermine and Russian squirrels.  These were processed and sold in Russia and Germany.  All told, about 24 million creatures.  The maximum from an elephant's tusk was eight ivory billiard balls, so in that same period, many thousands of the mighty pachyderm went down each year.
[24]  For material about Tryon, Oswald, Cowherd etc., see Keith Thomas, Man and the Natural World.  On squeamishness, see William Hazlitt, in 1826: 'Animals that are to be made use of as food should either be so small as to be imperceptible or else we should not leave the form standing to reproach us with our gluttony and cruelty.  I hate to see a rabbit trussed or a hare brought to the table in the form it occupied while living.'
[25]  For material on the Nazis and their attitude to animals, vegetarianism, vivisection, see the essay by Arnold Arluke and Boria Sax, 'Understanding Nazi Animal Protection and the Holocaust,' in Anthrozoos, vol. 5, no. 1, 1992, also correspondence in the following year.  Arluke and Sax review a wide variety of material on these themes. Anthrozoos is put out by the excellent Delta Society, based in Renton, Washington.  The Society encourages the match-up of old or disabled folk with appropriate dogs.
[26]  For a different, and in my opinion, somewhat superficial view, see Adorno and Horkheimer:
'When industrial magnates and Fascist leaders want to have pets around them, their choice falls not on terriers but on Great Danes and lion cubs.  These are intended to add spice to power through the terror they inspire.  The murderous Fascist colossus stands so blindly before nature that he sees animals only as a means of humiliating men.  It is he who deserves the criticism unjustly leveled by Nietzsche at Schopenhauer and Voltaire that they "knew how to mask their hate of certain men and things as compassion for animals."
The Fascist's passionate interest in animals, nature, and children is rooted in the lust to persecute.  The significance of the hand negligently stroking a child's head, or an animal's back, is that it could just as easily destroy them.  One victim is fondly stroked shortly before the other is struck down, and the choice made has nothing to do with the victim's guilt.  The petting demonstrates that all are equal in the presence of power, that none is a being in its own right.  A creature is merely material for the master's bloody purposes.  Thus the Fuehrer takes the innocent into his service, picking them out regardless of merit just as, for no apparent reason, they may be slaughtered.  Nature is so much filth.  Only the cunning power that knows how to survive has any right on its side.'
'Man and Animal' in Dialectic of Enlightenment.
[27]  This account of the Valle de Mezquital is drawn from Elinor Melville's impressive work, A Plague of Sheep. Environmental Consequences of the Conquest of Mexico, Cambridge 1994.
[28]  Quoted in Alan Durning and Holly Brough, 'Taking Stock: Animal Farming and the Environment,' Worldwatch Paper 103, July 1991; a very useful essay, with much data on raising and consumption of livestock, and good discussion of environmental consequences.
[29]  See Terry Jordan, North American Cattle Ranching Frontiers.
[30]  For an account of the exploitation of the Oglalla aquifer, see Donald Worster, An Unsettled Country, particularly the chapter, 'The Warming of the West.'   All predictions of global warming should be treated with reserve, caution increasing with the supposed precision of the forecasts.
[31]  There is an extended discussion of Amazonian deforestation and its causes in Susanna Hecht and Alexander Cockburn, The Fate of the Forest.  Developers, Destroyers and Defenders of the Amazon, Verso, London 1989.
[32]  This and following examples from During and Brough's 'Taking Stock'.
[33]  Hog farming in North Carolina has been the subject of some fine journalism, notably David Cecelski and Mary Lee Kerr's 'Hog Wild' in Southern Exposure, Fall 1992, and an excellent five-part series in the Raleigh News & Observer, first published 19­26 February 1995, and reprinted 19 March 1995.
[34]  'From Trust to Domination', in Aubrey Manning and James Serpell, eds, Animals and Human Society, London 1994.
[35]  As with organically-grown produce, there are purchasing co-ops and kindred organizations, that seek out free-range animals, humanely raised.  This does not deal with the moral absolute, but it does address less environmentally destructive, more artisanal and ultimately more equitable forms of production.  Not the full bill of rights to be sure, but a slightly more elevated bill of fare.
Humans and their governments will do terrible things to other humans and to other animals if allowed!
Cody speaking for our farm animal companions - download video mp4

Photo: internet
Cody speaking for our farm animal companions
For the animals
A little bit of empathy for the animals
They also have a life, like your children or your family.
Eastern Grey Kangaroo called Doodlebug orphaned at birth.
Doodlebug holding tight to the teddy bear lies next to it, practices his kicking against it and cuddles the stuffed bear.
The little kangaroo has been nursed to health to live in the wild but still comes back for the occasional feeding or cuddle.
PDF and now EPub versions for small tablets and Kindle, Nook and varied e-readers
The Game - The Enslavement Dream - Manor House Oath Highway.
Part of an email I sent:
I've just posted a new book, available free on .pdf and epub format.
The book is also available by chapter from
The chapter link below has a section on animal treatment on the planet.
Scroll/Search down to:
Kewe gives a rendering of a speech ‘He makes before a Galactic Council.
Best wishes:
Humans and Animals —
The majority of these are raised in factory farms where they are stacked in cages in windowless sheds where they can't live naturally (or happily) in any sense of the word.
Debeaked and declawed without anesthesia, they feel the pain of this for the rest of their lives.
Broiler chickens are selectively bred and genetically altered to produce bigger thighs and breasts, the parts in most demand — this breeding creates birds so heavy that their bones cannot support their weight, making it difficult for them to stand.
Fed a diet deficient of iron to keep their flesh pale and appealing to the consumer, veal calves spend each day confined alone with no companionship deprived of light for a large portion of their four-month lives.
     Meet your Meat       
     Give turkeys something to be thankful for this year    ...end the tradition of cruelty     
      Investigating and preventing animal rights extremism and eco-terrorism is one of the FBI's highest priorities      
Experiments on animals
Animals Intense Cruelty
I really don't understand humans!
Arsenic that’s pooped out by chickens fed as food to cows in intensive farms!
The alarms rings at 3:45 AM. I reach for the ibuprofen
without it my hands are too sore and swollen to even close....much less hold a turkey's legs.
Animal cruelty Halal meat
The idea that a chicken might be of value to the chicken
Dolphin asks diver for help
Whale - pain - death

Murdered by the Japanese
Whale - pain - death

Murdered by the Japanese
many other species in grave danger

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