Commentary/the vegan view
Scott Harris Big ag a mighty foe of animal liberation In the most recent issue of Planted, I teased a future story — seeking the best responses to veggie-phobics’ knee-jerk defenses to their continued animal eating. My intentions, while pure (of course), were waylaid by what I figured to be a somewhat rare opportunity: a Russian. Kirill, a 16-year-old boy, came into our world (Holt) via Yekaterinburg, Russia, and Foreign Links Around the Globe. While exposed to whatever the Russian equivalent of American propaganda is, Kirill hadn’t had the pleasure of hearing all the dogma force-fed to American kids from the moment they start playing our version of “life.” No McDonald’s commercials. No food pyramids provided by our friends at the National Dairy Council. No Future Farmers of America (FFA) or 4-H. No “Beef: It’s What’s For Dinner.” When my then-16-year-old son — Sawyer is now a healthy, strapping 17-year-old — and I filled out the paperwork last year to apply to be a host family, we were totally transparent. We disclosed that we are vegan and that we cohabitate with eight cats. We shared that while we wouldn’t restrict what a foreign exchange student ate outside of the house, we wouldn’t allow meat in our house. We looked forward to deep and thoughtful conversations about vegetarian philosophies and history and practitioners. Heck, with Leo Tolstoy in our corner (“As long as there are slaughterhouses, there will be battlefields,” “A vegetarian diet is the acid test for humanitarianism.”), this should be a wonderful experience. Shouldn’t it? Sometimes lost in looking at where we are is remembering how we got here. I’ve been a vegetarian-in-training since 1975 and an actual vegetarian since 1978 (one month apart from my parents at Camp Tamarack) and vegan since 1993. As a nerd, I read a lot. As a loudmouthed activist, I’ve surrounded myself with the best and brightest and most passionate of farmed animal advocates. I’ve attended meatouts, meetups, rallies and conventions. If asked, Penny Wharvey McGill from “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” would concede, “I’ve got my bona
fides.” That said, I have found myself at a distinct disadvantage. Maybe it’s hubris or maybe naiveté to have assumed that through a calm yet consistent and firm exposure to this ethos, the veil would be lifted and the matrix would be exposed for what it really is. Maybe the story isn’t done being written yet, but Kirill is no closer to being a vegetarian — let alone, a vegan — than he was when he first arrived here about seven months ago. Honestly, I would love a world where humans would stop eating meat and using non-human animals for entertainment,
“That’s what finally left me reeling, as I realized these ag-gag bills were about to make it impossible for us to show the world just how horrible farmed animal abuse is.” research, sport or tools. I would also love a world where sexism, racism, homophobia, classism and every other stupid “ism” that exists stopped existing. When it is so clear and evident to some of us that oppression and torture are oppression and torture no matter what the rationalizations are, it is inexplicable to us that it persists. The fact that Kirill has, despite his current home surroundings, joined FFA and attended FFA leadership conferences, and volunteers to look after the farmed sheep at the school’s barn, reinforces that the deck is tremendously stacked against “us.” There is an assumption that Mason High School sits in the shadows of Okemos and East Lansing’s academic behemoths. There is another assumption that MHS pales in comparison to the greater diversity of Lansing schools. These assumptions are wrong. There is a further assumption that MHS, when compared to her sister school districts, is still heavily agrarian in mission and composition. This assumption is fair. The school property literally nestles the Ingham County
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Fairgrounds. The school’s FFA and the community’s 4-H are very strong in Mason. As Mason graduates often stay close to home, it’s common for generations of residents to come together in support of animal husbandry. Kirill arrived in Lansing on Sept. 1 last year, the day before Mason schools reconvened. Due to a perfect storm of bureaucracy and random unluckiness, his was the last schedule to be completed. Subsequently, many of the classes that might have been available to him, were not. Kirill ended up with three consecutive trimesters of botany and greenhouse management and three consecutive trimesters of zoology and veterinary science. The former brought us fresh greens in the fall and maple syrup in early spring. The latter brought Kirill into the barns of Mason. Both classes brought him into FFA. As Kirill would become more engaged and active in FFA, I would find more literature in our house and notes on our computer about raising chickens, cows, pigs and sheep. I would find articles about dairy and egg production. The articles would be well-written and a matter of fact. Initially our conversations about animal agriculture were give-and-take, and respectful. I am a seasoned advocate, capable of delivering responses sincere and humane without sounding rehearsed or fanatical. “I’ve got this one.” But I didn’t. Upon first becoming a parent early in the first Clinton term, I came to learn that the period of time my wife and I would have unfettered influence over our kids would be far more limited than I could have imagined. By the time Maddie, our eldest, started kindergarten, she spent far more time during her day hearing voices other than ours. With Kirill arriving the day before school started — after 16 years growing up in a country where some Russian | Continued on Page 22 Scott Harris is a single parent of two awesome vegan kids and cohabitates with eight cats. Besides being an animal rights activist, he owns an independent bookstore and insurance agency, both in Lansing. Scott enjoys baseball, classic rock, clever banter and laughing at his own jokes. Contact him at harriss@voyager.net.